Single for Eternity
Chapter 95: I should learn to use Weapons

Chapter 95: I should learn to use Weapons

The jade-haired brat lunged at me, scimitars flashing with malicious intent.

I sidestepped to the left, his twin blades slicing nothing but air.

’Maybe it’s time I learn how to use a weapon,’ I thought to myself, ducking beneath a follow-up slash that would’ve taken my head off if I’d hesitated a second longer.

From the very moment I’d transmigrated into this world, it had been fists. Straight hands, nothing else. I had relied on my instincts, my experience, and raw brute force—but now, facing an opponent like this, I was starting to see the cracks in that strategy.

If the admins of this twisted world were hellbent on turning my life into a meat grinder, then I needed to adapt. Fast. And that meant evolving past bare-knuckle brawling.

The brat cackled when his first attack missed, his laughter unhinged and giddy, like a child who’d just discovered he could set ants on fire.

He lunged again, his body flickering in erratic, zig-zag motions that made it hard to predict his next move.

At a glance, it seemed amateurish—reckless even—but the rhythm was disruptive. Unsettling.

Every dodge I made felt just a fraction too close. Maybe I wasn’t as clean as I thought. Maybe he wasn’t as trash as I wanted to believe.

And then there were the blades themselves.

They dripped.

At the very tip, a faint hiss echoed every time the edge kissed the air, acidic droplets evaporating mid-flight into a poisonous green mist. Fumes so noxious they sizzled against the boulder near my shoulder.

Poison.

This little maniac was swinging twin scimitars laced with toxin like he was having the time of his life. Each slash was a dance of death, and I was just barely staying ahead of the tempo.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to kill him.

That hesitation—where did it come from?

I’d fought before. Killed before. In this world and my previous one. I’d massacred an entire nest of creatures—burned them alive, shattered their bodies, crushed their skulls underfoot.

But they weren’t human.

And somehow, that distinction mattered. For reasons I didn’t even fully understand.

Why did I care if someone looked like me? Was it morality? Sympathy? No. Nothing that noble.

It was bias. A deep-rooted, evolutionary prejudice toward my own race. I looked at this brat and saw a human face.

Eyes, mouth, expression—features I recognized. And so, some primal part of me decided, this one gets a pass.

It wasn’t right.

But it was real.

The brat grinned as he drove me back, forcing me toward a jagged black boulder. Then, with a burst of speed, he kicked off the ground and spun mid-air like a deranged Beyblade.

His twin scimitars whirled with him, forming a spiral of greenish silver. I instinctively flipped backward, avoiding the brunt of the strike—but not all of it.

A thin line of pain danced across my shoulder. I landed smoothly, but the sting was immediate. Faint. Sharp. Almost elegant in how precise it was.

He saw it.

His face lit up with cruel delight.

"Hahahaha... now, you’re dead meat," he howled, eyes wide with glee. "Just a scratch, but that’s all it takes. You’re done, idiot!"

The scimitars’ tip had landed. Just the tiniest nick. But he knew what it meant.

’So I was right,’ I thought, inspecting the wound. ’The poison is real. Coated at the edge. Some kind of acidic neurotoxin, maybe.’

But as fast as his smirk bloomed, it wilted.

[ System: Resistance to poison increased. ]

[ System: Nascent Rift Core Saturation Level: +2% ]

The wound on my shoulder sizzled faintly—then sealed. Flesh reknitted, nerves realigned, and within seconds, it was as if nothing had happened.

I flexed my fingers, rolling my neck. Energy buzzed faintly beneath my skin, dancing along my veins. That sensation again—my Core was growing. Feeding.

The brat’s laughter died in his throat.

He stared. Mouth agape. Eyes shaking. Like a gambler watching his royal flush combust in the dealer’s hands.

"Wha—what the hell...?" he muttered.

I smiled.

Not wide. Not manic. Just a calm, quiet thing that made his knees twitch.

"Oh. Sorry," I said casually, brushing nonexistent dust from my sleeve. "Did you think that’d work?"

The silence between us stretched.

His hand trembled on the hilt of his scimitar.

My eyes locked onto his.

For the first time in the fight... he took a step back.

And then I lunged.

My prejudice—the subtle weight of it—was still there. But I wasn’t the type of man to let old instincts rule me forever. I believed in evolution, in adaptation.

Mercy? Morality? Ethics? Good deeds? They sounded good in fairytales and bedtime stories. But here, in a world forged from chaos and cruelty, such things were just illusions—costly ones. If holding onto those ideals meant losing my life, then I would abandon them without hesitation.

Survival came first. Always.

I launched forward, pushing off the edge of the boulder at my side. My body moved like a coiled spring, and my fist—coated in the ever-shifting armor of my Symbiote—shot forward like a comet.

Crack!

My knuckles slammed into his gut with a sickening thud. The impact folded him like paper. He staggered, eyes wide as a violent gush of water burst from his mouth. His scimitars clattered slightly, almost slipping from his grasp.

Shock flickered across his jade-colored eyes—disbelief, confusion, maybe even betrayal.

But the brat didn’t fall.

He spun, dragging in a ragged breath, and somehow landed upright on his feet. Wobbly. But standing.

There it was again.

That look.

Gone was the wild-eyed psychopath from earlier. In his place stood a fighter—steadied, focused. His erratic aura vanished, and in its place came clarity.

He stared straight into my eyes, not with bloodlust, but determination. A warrior’s gaze.

His hands tightened around his twin scimitars. Slowly, deliberately, he inhaled and exhaled, centering himself. And then, without a single wasted movement—

He lunged again.

I clicked my tongue in irritation, shifting my stance to meet him. ’Why the hell do you have to find nirvana mid-fight?’ I muttered. ’You were doing great as a bloodthirsty lunatic.’

He didn’t respond. He had transcended some inner wall mid-combat and was now fighting like someone who’d seen death and made peace with it.

His first strike came from the right. I barely ducked in time, his blade whistling past my temple. The second came from the left, a feint turned into a real stab. I caught his wrist mid-motion, halting the blow just inches from my ribs.

A drop of poison oozed from the edge of the blade.

It sizzled against my cheek.

Pain flared, acid biting into my skin.

I hissed and clicked my tongue again, this time from real annoyance. "Tch. Now I’m pissed."

With a growl, I hurled him away, but the brat was prepared. Even mid-flight, he twisted, springing off the nearest wall like a cat. In the blink of an eye, he countered with a powerful kick that slammed into my gut.

BOOM.

I was sent flying like a ragdoll, crashing into the massive double doors of an ancient tomb-like structure—one I hadn’t even noticed in the chaos.

The wood cracked. Dust spilled from its creases. And something... moved inside.

A thrum. Like the tremor of the earth. A subtle quake, as though something enormous had stirred from slumber. Something old.

But I didn’t pay it any mind.

My eyes locked back onto the jade-haired brat, who now stood at a slight crouch, his weapons angled like fangs ready to bite. The fight wasn’t over. Not even close.

’Simpy,’ I called inwardly, reaching toward the consciousness residing within my body. ’Let’s beat this brat.’

A familiar purring resonated inside me. Like a content cat—happy, proud, eager. My Symbiote responded not with words, but emotions. Warmth and exhilaration coursed through my veins, and in the next breath, I felt it surge.

The jade-haired brat attacked again.

His scimitars moved like fangs in the air, carving a deadly arc toward me. This time—I didn’t move.

I stood still.

I waited.

The instant his blades closed the distance, just inches from my chest—

The Symbiote unfurled.

It came alive like a tidal wave of shadows and crimson light, bursting from my side in a violent spiral. A monstrous limb—half-arm, half-claw—erupted from my right oblique, extending outward to intercept the blow.

The brat sensed it at the last second.

He recoiled. Fast.

But not fast enough to hide the fear that flickered across his face. His eyes locked onto the writhing appendage—fluid yet defined, alien yet perfectly synchronized with my body.

My Symbiote fully emerged now, resting just beside me like a loyal hound, ready to pounce.

"C’mon," I said, lifting my arm and curling my fingers in a taunt. "The fight’s just getting started."

The air between us was electric.

The brat tensed, teeth gritted, blades ready.

And behind me, the ancient tomb shuddered again.

This time, louder, echoing.

This time, like a warning.

Or a countdown.

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