The Battle and The Chef

I began to walk away from Jack, who was still in front of me.

The man in an understanding type of tone said, “Good choice kid. I can seriously respect that.”

The man relaxed a little and began making his way to his cloak which was on the ground. As I walked back, I picked up the wooden spoon behind me and observed it some more. I touched my left index finger to the tip of the round spoon and blood began trickling from my finger. Holy shit. This dude was serious about everything he said. I was shocked, truly, but I still wasn’t going to give up. I couldn’t. I’m not about to go homeless because some dude named “The Chef” told me to back off. As the man picked up his coat, I had a menacing idea. I winded my arm holding the spoon back and launched it towards the man. He dodged it easily and looked up at me exhibiting both annoyance and anger.

“Okay. Yeah. I’m going to kill you.”

He rapidly ripped out a silver spoon and whisk from the belt on his waist and launched them at me with ridiculous speed. I dodged the silver spoon but got scraped on my right leg by the whisk. It hurt like crazy. This guy’s sharpness was seriously no joke, but my training was no joke as well.

I rushed the man with all the speed that I had and that I’ve accumulated through my intense training.

Jack exclaimed, “So you're a fast one huh?”

He pulled the silver pan that was dangling from his waist as I closed in. I noticed as he touched it that a pulse ran through it like when he touched the wooden spoon. I guessed that meant he sharpened it with his ability. As I neared his body, I went in to punch his face with one of the punches that I threw for days while training. He easily dodged it and swung his pan at my torso which I made sure to dodge now knowing that it could easily cut me. As he missed his swing, all the tools clanked on his belt. He began swinging his pan in a frenzy with no real skill being displayed, and I was dodging rather easily. Upon one of his swings, I countered with a punch to his face sending him stumbling to the side and dropping his pan. There was a little blood coming from his mouth. He touched his mouth and looked at his hand which now had some blood on it. He gritted his teeth as he focused back on the fight at hand. He quickly ripped another whisk from his belt and launched it at my left leg, and so I jumped to avoid it when a fork suddenly came crashing into my right shoulder. It truly was unbelievably sharp as it perfectly stabbed me and went completely through my shoulder leaving only half of the fork sticking out in front and behind my shoulder. I came crashing down from the sky landing harshly on the ground.

“They always jump when it’s coming for their leg. Predictable.”

He picked up the pan that he dropped and began walking towards me. I ripped the fork out of my shoulder and threw it at him, but he blocked it with his sharpened silver pan. I tried to get up quickly, but he bashed his pan onto the left side of my body with an excruciating force both slicing me deep and sending me flying towards a tree. The pain was insane. It was like I got hit by a car and cut by a sword at the same time. I was holding my side trying to stop the bleeding as much as I could, but Jack ran at me while I was on the ground attempting to continue his beating. He went in for another smash with his pan, but I jumped back off the ground and to the side stumbling to rebalance myself which led to Jack hitting the tree that I was smacked into. The tree received both a deep cut and dome from the pan now exhibiting the properties of both a sword and a jackhammer. Jack’s hair was becoming messy from all the swinging that he was doing, and the tools on his belts continued to clank on his body loudly.

“Just stand still so that I can end this already buddy.”

I decided that the only way I can win this fight is if I went on the offensive, so I did. I stopped pressing my hand on my injuries and made a rush for Jack. He swung his pan downwards heavily, this time in a vertical fashion as if he was aiming for my head. It was like he was playing a whack-a-mole game. I barely dodged the furious strike as it both smashed and cut the floor. Upon seeing the pan on the floor, I took my foot and slammed it on the pan, sending it deep into the ground with all my might. Jack tried to free the pan with both his hands, but before he could pull it out of the dirt even a little, I kneed him right in the face using my right quad with ferocious power, sending him flying backward as he finally let go of his pan and squealed. The utilization of my quads instantly reminded me of my weight training as I worked my way all the way up to a seven-hundred-pound squat. Jack was now screaming from the pain in which I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.

“AHHHHH DAMN IT! IT HURTS YOU STUPID BR-”

Before he could finish his sentence, and while he was still on the ground, I continued my attack. I crashed my fist using all my strength with a low jab-like motion right into Jack’s stomach, but this time he didn’t fly back from my strength or grunt from the impact. My fist was bleeding, and I couldn’t comprehend it right away. Jack’s hand was on his black shirt which now wrinkled like a diamond. He looked up at me smiling while blood ran down from his mouth slowly. He sharpened it. He actually sharpened his shirt. I pulled my fist back from where it collided with his sharpened shirt now stepping back and holding my torso’s previous injury once more. I gritted my teeth angrily

“Damn, you're not kidding! You can really sharpen anything huh?”

Jack responded swiftly while getting back up and spitting out the blood in his mouth, “I literally already told you that, and you still fell for it. You really are retarded.”

I began to realize how crazy this ability actually was. He can sharpen anything. This meant that besides weapons and clothing, he can even possibly sharpen his skin, but if this was the case then did that mean his sharpening was permanent? Or, did it mean that his sharpening was only temporary? If he’s thought of sharpening his shirt, then surely he’s thought of sharpening a part of his body sometime in his life, but I didn’t see any signs of anything like that on his skin. Maybe that meant that Jack’s ability was temporary assuming that he did sharpen his skin at least once. I had to take a gamble.

He ripped his pan off the ground and came running at me now screaming a battle cry as he swung his pan at me. He swung downwards vertically once more, and I barely dodged again. I paid close attention to how the pan affected the ground this time. It seemed to affect the ground the same way it did last time which meant that his ability might be permanent. I assumed this since there’s been simply no sign of a weapon he’s imbued with sharpness losing its sharpness whatsoever over any given period of time. I decided to ditch the idea. I kicked his pan like a football which was near the ground now sending it flying towards the tree he previously hit. It fell on the ground after bouncing off the tree’s tough bark. When I kicked the sharpened pan, it actually sliced my shoe a little demonstrating how sharp it really was. Jack immediately pulled out a silver ladle which was on his waist and sharpened it. He launched it at me spinning, and I dodged it which led it to stab a different tree behind me. It was sticking out of the tree as if it was a sword or knife.

I have to somehow rid him of his tools, but I don’t think I can do that normally. I’m going to have to let him hit me!

He rushed me with another ladle managing to land a strike on my chest leaving another deep cut and bleeding cut. The wound was worse than I thought as the pain was beginning to make my head spin. After he finished hitting me, there was a window of opportunity. I ignored the blood and pain and quickly grabbed the belt that he had on his waist and yanked it making sure to toss it immediately. All the tools clanked tremendously as I snatched and disposed of the belt carrying them. Unfortunately, while I was able to get rid of one of the belts, this still left me open for another strike which I tried my absolute best to avoid.

Jack bellowed like a mad man with crazy eyes, “AHHHHHH!”

Jack struck me, this time on my mid-abdomen creating another slice and contusion. I was about to pass out, but my willpower kept me awake. I couldn’t die here. I just couldn’t. There was one belt left that I had to rid Jack of, and it couldn’t be through taking damage like last time or I might actually die. I had to be crafty. I jumped back to create some space to assess my plan further.

Jack cried, “Kid you put up a good fight, okay? Okay? If you continue this, you’ll really get to see what the chef’s got cookin’ in the kitchen!”

I didn’t respond. I was just thinking. Jack only had two utensils left on his second belt which was on his arm: a silver fork and tongs. I had to make him use them. I have no chance when he’s using his weapons, so I need to make this a fistfight. I ignored the bleeding and pain that I was feeling and threw my body into further battle by attacking him again. He swung his ladle leftwards and horizontally towards my head, but I ducked and avoided it. I swiped quickly at the ladle to rid it from his hand which I succeeded in. The ladle stumbled on the ground cutting many flowers on its way downward. Jack rapidly ripped the strapped tongs from the belt on his arm and tried to snap them at me like I was a lobster or something. He seemed to be trying to snap my right hand as he aimed for it. I dodged quickly and kicked his open torso sending the tongs flying out of his hands. He only had a fork left. He immediately took it out without a care in the world for recovering balance and flung it at me. I was wide open from the kick that I just launched as the fork stabbed the left side of my chest. The pain was immense.

Jack whined like a little kid, “Damn it! I barely missed the heart!”

He had no more weapons. Yes, I was hurt greatly, but now I had the advantage. I was stronger and more skilled in fighting than Jack Swivel, and I used this to my advantage.

I ignored all bleeding, deep cuts, regular cuts, bruises, and even the urge to pass out as I got into the boxing stance that I was in for three days during my intense training. I ripped out the fork that was in my chest and initiated my stance. Just like when I was training and in this stance specifically, I began to feel no pain anymore. I was too focused on what I had to do. I was too focused on victory. Jack looked at me with a wrinkled nose and gritted teeth angrily, and he touched his two fists together. I saw a pulse run through them as he sharpened them. It was now one on one. I stood still focused and patient. We were both bleeding greatly. There was no more talking between us except one final statement from Jack.

The Chef exclaimed while bringing his fists up to his chin in a stance similar to mine, "Come on you son of a bitch! I don't need my tools to kick your ass!"

He threw a rapid left jab which I effortlessly dodged, swinging back and landing an easy blow to his head. Blood and teeth flew from his mouth as he tried his best to keep his feet planted and turned back to me regaining balance. I simply retreated to my stance waiting for another swing. It was a simple pattern at this point. He swung, I dodged, and I quickly countered. This happened five more times before he began to wobble and struggle to keep his arms up. He turned his body, not being able to keep balance. His back was now slightly facing me in a diagonal fashion since he couldn’t face me straight. He clearly couldn’t see. He was… wide open.

Jack exerted, “You… son of a…”

I viciously swung my arms around his throat and brought both him and me down on the floor. I put him in the strongest chokehold I could ever put a man in as he struggled his best to break free. It was futile. He wasn’t escaping this. He lost. I win. He tried reaching for his belt, but there were no utensils left. He tried to grab my arms and force them open, but I was simply too strong. He began clawing at my arms with his sharpened nails, sending blood flying everywhere. He even tried hopelessly sharpening my arms which only made it harder for him to break free. I began to scream desperately trying to keep him in this headlock so that he could just pass out already. He was beyond tough. He just wouldn’t give up!

I had him in that chokehold for at least five minutes as I gritted my teeth trying to ignore the sharp pain from his sharpened nails. Eventually and finally, he began struggling slower and slower until his body gave out and until he couldn’t move anymore. I held him in that chokehold for an extra two minutes just in case, but upon checking his eyeballs, his eyes were completely blank. I had to lift his eyelids to check if he was really unconscious and finally realized that he truly was passed out.

I realized as I almost passed out that… I won.