Return Of The Strongest Player

Jake's thoughts ran at tremendous speeds, but were cut short by the buzzing sound that entered his ears. When the buzzing faded, a soft, clicking sound replaced its predecessor. All other sounds were filtered out.

He turned around as fast as he could, but it was too late by then.

But what he saw…

Gary's screams resounded across the arena, and everyone halted their battles to check out what was going on. Jake, still confused as to how Gary landed a cut on his bicep, became even more confused as he viewed his assailant's tattered body on the ground.

'What… the fuck?'

Gary's devilish smile now remained as a vestige of the past. His eyes were clouded by the viscosity of his own blood. Cuts and bruises lined his skin, allowing the crimson liquid to seep from within.

With a pained expression reflecting his misery, Gary, instead of Jake, lay on the ground, unable to move an inch.

Thud!

"What the fuck, man!?" Evan spoke mercilessly to the blank Jake. His every word was like a jab to Jake's stomach. "This was supposed to be a spar, a spar! Look what you've done to Gary! Fuck…"

The students suddenly believed Jake was in the wrong. Although some protested, assuring others of his innocence, it was to no avail due to the majority believing he was guilty. Jake stood blankly across this all.

Without a shred of guilt, he approached Gary.

Although he was blocked by several students, he shoved them all onto the ground, making his way to the muscular man. Bending down, Jake brought his mouth closer and closer to Gary's ear.

Then, he whispered a few words before leaving the arena.

Gary remained still, a faint smile hung on his lips. The change in expression went unnoticed by everyone… except Arthur.

*

Gary was immediately rushed to the infirmary.

After that, the spars continued as before. Once they ended, everyone returned to their dorms without questioning the incident. They believed Jake was in the wrong, and since he was the son of the Garcias, blaming him was easier.

Although, it did seem like it was truly his fault.

Once classes had ended, Jake exited the school building with a few folders in his arms. His expression was indifferent as he gazed at the pouring raindrops and the dark sky. It was already dusk.

Unfolding his umbrella, he walked forward, but that's when a shadow appeared in the corner of his eye.

"Arthur?" Jake raised an eyebrow, glancing at the shadow.

"It's truly a pity," said an unknown voice. Although his crimson eyes seemed to belong to Arthur, his voice differentiated drastically. The shadow walked forward with soft footsteps. His presence was undetectable.

The nightly breeze swept across Jake's face, and a hint of moonlight fell upon the shadow's face.

His hideous face came under the moonlight, and chills shot down Jake's spine. It wasn't Arthur or anyone he knew. No, it was someone he knew, but after so many years… Why was he back? For what purpose?

"I should have ended you several years ago," said the hideous man, and the moonlight willingly shifted from his face to the object in his hand. It was a blood-stained dagger, the same one he possessed several years ago.

Jake's eyes widened, and a lump appeared in his throat. The shadowed figure walked forward, but Jake didn't resist. He simply stared at the approaching with eyes that screamed for help, but no one came.

The sheer trauma prevented him from moving a muscle.

"Speak, Garcia," said the shadowed figure, licking the blood from his dagger. "Speak! It's no use hunting a wet cat."

Jake didn't respond.

"Resist, god damn it!" The shadowed figure suddenly brought his face within a finger's length of Jake's. His insane expression was vivid, and the blood stains on his face proved he'd been murdering left and right the entire day, or perhaps weeks. "I don't like people who don't care for their lives. Beg, Garcia."

Silence.

"He…hahaha!" The shadowed figure laughed uncontrollably, squirming for no particular reason. "You were a lot more hot-blooded back then. Your father was a bitch back then, and he still is. I'm so glad to have returned."

His uncontrollable laughter continued, and Jake's expression grew paler.

"Nothing beats hunting in Arcadia," the shadowed figure continued to rant, and Jake shrunk like a wet cat. "This scent… I missed it dearly."

At that moment, he glanced at Jake. "Where have my manners gone? Aren't you going to welcome me back, Jake Garcia? I heard you made a new friend recently. Where is he? I didn't come to Arcadia to hunt just one person. I'll dispose of your so-called 'friend' too, while I'm at it."

Silence.

"Who is he, Jake?"

"Ar…Arthur… So–lace," Jake spoke in a trembling voice. His eyes were bloodshot, and he stared at the ground as if he'd lost the purpose to live.

"Good boy," replied the shadowed figure, patting Jake on the head. The latter shrunk at the physical contact, but didn't move away. "I should probably do what I came here to do, now. It's been nice talking to you after so long. Pray we don't meet in hell."

Swoosh!

As the gust of wind swept past Jake, so did the shadowed figure. Without being able to resist, Jake suffered a fatal wound on his torso. As a long scar formed on his stomach, blood emerged from his lips.

Coughing, Jake fell to his knees. 'I couldn't even resist…'

Although his thoughts were jumbled, these words lingered in his mind. With a soft chuckle, he fell face-first into the ground. At that moment, blood sprayed from all openings in his skin. Eventually, he was a bloody mess.

The chilly breeze was harsh on his skin.

The shadowed figure smiled devilishly before fading into the wind, as if his existence was a hoax.

The last and only vestige of his existence was the scar on Jake's torso.

From that day, Jake was dead.

At least, for the shadowed figure.