Chapter 1120
Raon stepped onto the stage of the sparring arena for the first time, his gaze fixed on the opponent waiting for him.
'That girl is...'
Standing across from him was the blue-haired youngster who had greeted him at the entrance when he first arrived at the Unyielding Blade.
"I am Bellua, a practitioner under the Unyielding Blade. It is a profound privilege to test my steel against you, Sword Emperor."
The girl offered a deep, disciplined bow as she introduced herself to the guest.
"My path is the True Phantom Variable Sword."
Her emerald eyes shimmered with focus as her fingers tightened around the hilt of her weapon.
"I am Raon Zieghart."
Raon responded with the formal salute of a warrior, showing her full respect despite the gap in their standing.
"She is my personal pupil."
Brigitte looked on from the sidelines, arms crossed, offering a sharp nod of acknowledgment.
"She may be young and her internal energy unrefined, but her natural affinity for the blade is monstrous. Do not hold back—give her a thorough lesson."
A smirk played on Brigitte's lips as she gave him permission to completely overwhelm her student.
"The disciple of the Queen of Swords..."
Raon studied Bellua’s composed green eyes and gave a slow nod.
'I sensed something unique about her the moment we met at the Unyielding Blade’s gates.'
Even at her tender age, Bellua possessed a piercing clarity in her gaze, radiating the unmistakable pressure of a high-tier genius. While her true limits would only surface in a clash, her raw potential seemed to rival the likes of Burren, Martha, or Runaan.
"Bellua! Treat this as a life-or-death struggle!"
Brigitte barked the command, demanding her disciple hold nothing in reserve.
"Understood!"
With a sharp, determined shout, Bellua unsheathed her blade, her intent to obey her master clear in her stance.
"I shall grant you the first three exchanges."
Acting as the senior combatant, Raon drew Heavenly Drive and offered her the advantage of the opening moves.
"You are deploying your actual blade?"
Evelyn’s eyes rounded in shock, clearly startled to see him draw his primary weapon for such a young opponent.
"Is it truly necessary to use such a lethal sword against a child?"
She tilted her head, wondering if a wooden practice tool wouldn't be more appropriate.
"A mage wouldn't comprehend the etiquette of the blade."
Martha gave a derisive snort at the suggestion.
"The etiquette of the blade?"
Evelyn’s interest piqued; if it concerned Raon’s way of life, she wanted to understand.
"I-it’s a matter of honoring the duel."
Dorian offered a small shake of his head as he looked toward Evelyn.
"This is a formal dueling ring, not a casual training hall. For a swordsman, crushing an opponent with total sincerity is a greater sign of respect than playing around with half-hearted strikes."
He explained that Raon’s choice to draw his sword was actually a tribute to Bellua’s spirit.
"I understand now."
A soft smile returned to Evelyn’s face as the logic clicked.
"As they say, even a lion exerts its full power when hunting a hare."
She pressed her palms together over her heart, whispered praises for Raon’s noble approach.
"I am coming!"
With a piercing cry, Bellua launched herself forward. Her blade streaked through the air like a blue comet, plunging toward Raon’s chest. A sharp metallic ring echoed as Raon parried the strike with Heavenly Drive, a thin smile touching his lips.
"Impressive."
Her attack carried the subtle trickery of the phantom style. While the tip seemed destined for his chest, the lethal weight of the strike had actually been diverted toward his flank.
"Again!"
Unfazed by the initial block, Bellua pivoted and struck again, this time slashing for Raon’s throat. Azure flames surged from her steel, fanning out like the wings of a majestic bird. With another heavy clash, Raon intercepted the strike—not at his neck, but at his shoulder—shattering the illusion of her technique.
"You were concealing your true depth."
This time, her swordplay blended both misdirection and fluid transformation. A lesser warrior would have had their arm severed without ever realizing the blade had moved.
"The kid has some bite, doesn't she?"
Martha couldn't help but voice her surprise at the girl's execution.
"Incredible... at that age, I was just trying to stay hidden..."
Dorian stared, mouth agape at the sheer level of talent Bellua was displaying.
"This is my final strike!"
Bellua slammed her foot down, driving her sword forward in a powerful thrust. As the steel whistled through the air, the mana within it shifted into the forms of various predators. The atmosphere vibrated with the sudden release of force.
The spectral beasts conjured by her blade moved independently, lunging at Raon’s various weak points. Although her refinement was still raw, the move integrated the phantom, variable, severing, and precision styles into a single cohesive strike.
"Hyaaah!"
A trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth from the sheer strain of the technique, yet her grip never wavered.
'A magnificent synthesis.'
Raon watched with genuine interest as the four distinct styles merged as naturally as tributary streams feeding into a vast ocean.
'Superior craftsmanship.'
Bellua was currently too weak to manifest the true lethality of the True Phantom Variable Sword, but with maturity, she could eventually turn an entire battlefield into a graveyard of illusions. With a low growl, Raon swung Heavenly Drive in a diagonal arc. Brilliant crimson fire erupted, incinerating every one of Bellua’s spectral beasts.
The holy flames seemed to scrub the very air of her residual energy.
"Observe. This is how that technique is meant to reach its zenith."
Raon leveled the burning Heavenly Drive toward her. From the glowing red edge, dozens of butterflies took flight. Clad in scarlet light, they danced around Bellua in complex patterns before ascending toward the sky. A thunderous roar shook the arena.
The butterflies converged, spiraling into a towering cyclone of fire before slowly dissolving into nothingness.
"Ah..."
Bellua’s sword slipped from her hand, her eyes welling with tears as she witnessed the display.
"So that... that is the perfected True Phantom Variable Sword..."
She reclaimed her weapon with shaking fingers, her voice thick with awe at the beauty of the strike.
"Not quite the perfected version—more like my own interpretation of it."
Raon offered a small, humble smile.
"The synergy of those styles is truly remarkable."
The True Phantom Variable Sword shared many principles with his own Fire Spirit technique from the Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation. Analyzing her style provided him with fresh insights that could further sharpen his own repertoire.
"Th-thank you for the guidance."
Bellua bowed deeply, her worldview clearly expanded by the encounter.
"You have a long road ahead, but I believe you will go far. Perhaps..."
Raon started to offer further advice but paused, keeping his thoughts to himself.
'She is likely the future of the Unyielding Blade.'
Her potential far outstripped the other representatives of her sect he had encountered previously. If she remained on this path, she would undoubtedly become their strongest sovereign.
"Wait, wasn't that our True Phantom Variable Sword?"
"Did the Sword Emperor already master our secret arts?"
"No... he looked like he was seeing it for the first time just minutes ago."
"Are you telling me he mimicked it after one look? And then optimized it?"
"Ridiculous. Is that the terrifying talent of a Sword Emperor?"
The surrounding disciples of the Unyielding Blade stared in disbelief, their worldviews shaken by Raon's genius.
-Those fools are ready to throw in the towel.
Wrath clicked his tongue, sensing the defeatism spreading through the crowd.
-You really can't help yourself, can you? Why must you flaunt such disgusting talent and scare them off?
The demon gestured dismissively, accusing Raon of being a show-off.
'I don't think they're quitting.'
Raon smiled and looked toward the assembled martial artists.
"Please, try to replicate what I just showed you!"
"I would give my life for the opportunity! Please, show us the evolution of our path!"
"Sword Emperor! No, Sword God! Please, test me next!"
Instead of being discouraged, the Unyielding Blade practitioners were electrified, surging forward with a desperate hunger to learn.
-Th-this is...
Wrath shook his head, baffled by their reaction.
'I think I understand them now.'
Much like the Holy Sword Alliance, these people are zealots for their craft. Showing them a glimpse of the absolute peak of their style didn't break them; it gave them a new god to follow.
'This benefits me as well.'
Had they given up or fought without heart, the exercise would be pointless. But if they fought with the desperation Bellua showed, it would sharpen his own skills regardless of their lower level.
In fact, the brief clash with Bellua had already refined his grasp of variable and phantom movements, and the resonance of his Fire Spirit had grown noticeably deeper.
"Next opponent!"
Raon called out, his competitive spirit rising, yet the crowd suddenly parted.
"Um..."
Dorian shuffled toward Raon, speaking in a low, urgent tone.
"This isn't the training grounds, Lord Raon. This is a sanctioned tournament. Your match is over, so you have to step down now."
He gestured frantically for Raon to leave the center stage.
-Puhehehehe!
Wrath clutched his midsection, howling with laughter.
-Look at the great Sword Emperor being shooed away like a stray dog after all that grandstanding!
'...'
"Huff! Huff!"
Dorian exhaled sharply, narrowly avoiding a blade held by a middle-aged master with a salt-and-pepper beard.
'Why is this so damn complicated!'
The swordsmanship of this Unyielding Blade Elder was an intricate nightmare. Even with Mind’s Eye reading the man’s intent, the sheer volume of variations made it nearly impossible to predict the next move.
'Does he really have a hundred different forms?'
The warriors here usually mastered a single technique for life. This man followed that rule, yet every single swing seemed to belong to a different style.
"You have a nimble set of feet."
The Elder offered a cold smile, seemingly amused by Dorian’s evasion, and pressed the attack with a fresh sequence. Dorian parried the strike, his brow furrowing in concentration.
'It shifted again.'
The Elder’s blade lunged for his throat in yet another unfamiliar pattern. The sheer complexity was starting to make Dorian’s head spin.
"It seems you’ve reached the end of your rope."
The Elder lowered his stance, preparing a new formation.
"Few can endure the relentless evolution of the Waterfall Sword."
He nodded to himself, as if Dorian’s exhaustion was a foregone conclusion.
"The Waterfall Sword?"
Dorian panted, staring at his opponent.
"The Waterfall Sword is a living technique. It adapts during the fight, adding new layers and forms to systematically dismantle the enemy’s defense."
The Elder explained that the style grew more labyrinthine with every second that passed, ensuring no two strikes were ever the same.
"This is the conclusion."
He signaled for Dorian to surrender and thrust his blade in a bizarre, twisted trajectory. Dorian took a sharp breath, watching the steel approach from a logic-defying angle.
'I see the pattern now. I know how to break it. But...'
His body felt like lead. He had spent too much energy just staying alive. Even though the solution was clear, he lacked the physical fuel to execute the counter.
'I did my best. Maybe it’s okay to stop here...'
Just as he was about to concede, his eyes drifted toward Raon. Raon was watching with a piercing, serious expression, silently demanding that he finish what he started.
'Right.'
I’m the one who’s been tormented and empowered by a demon king because of that man! With a mental roar, Dorian bit his lip until it bled and lunged forward. In that instant, his body moved with a velocity that shocked even him.
'Wait, why am I moving this fast?!'
It wasn't just speed; it was raw, overwhelming power that shattered the Elder’s intricate formation. With a violent crash of steel, the Elder was sent reeling backward, his weapon spinning out of his hand and clattering to the floor.
"Th-this..."
The Elder scrambled to recover his sword, but Dorian’s blade was already at his throat.
"I-it’s over."
Dorian gasped for air, holding the tip of his sword steady against the man's skin.
"So you were playing the long game, hiding your true strength. I concede."
The Elder raised his hands in a gesture of defeat, impressed by Dorian’s tactical patience.
"Incredible!"
"As expected of the Sword Emperor’s right hand!"
"He beat an Elder! We thought he was just a nervous wreck, but his sword is the real deal!"
The arena erupted in cheers for Dorian’s victory. But Dorian wasn't listening to the crowd.
"Seriously..."
He looked down at the Gluttony bracelet on his wrist, letting out a long sigh.
'Was it this thing that gave me that burst?'
A moment ago, he had been completely drained. But when he made the choice to push past his limits, a reservoir of power far beyond his natural capacity had surged through him. It was undeniably the influence of the demon king’s artifact.
'They mentioned that I could grow stronger through my focus on logistics and supply, didn't they?'
If the claims made by Raon and the demon were true, he had the potential to reach heights he had never even dreamed of.
"Yes! I can do this!"
Dorian pumped a fist in the air, bolstered by a new sense of ambition, only to see Raon standing right in front of him, nodding silently.
"Did you come to congratulate me? Truly, Lord Raon is the only—"
"No."
Raon gave a simple shake of his head.
"Huh? Then why are you..."
Dorian’s smile faltered.
"I am your next opponent."
Raon’s grin was far from congratulatory; it was the look of a predator.
"While you were taking thirty minutes for your match, I finished mine instantly and have been waiting for you."
"Ah..."
Dorian’s jaw dropped as he met Raon’s icy stare.
"I will grant you ten minutes to recover."
"W-wait! I withdr—"
Before he could finish his surrender, Raon moved like a blur, appearing instantly to clamp a hand over Dorian’s mouth.
"A warrior of the Light Wind Palace does not know the word 'forfeit'."
Raon pressed the cold flat of Heavenly Drive against Dorian’s neck.
"Mmph..."
Tears pricked Dorian’s eyes—tears of genuine terror that far outweighed any fear he felt toward the Elder.
"You tried to embarrass me earlier, didn't you?"
Raon let out a low hum, making it clear he hadn't forgotten the earlier interruption.
"N-no, that was just... it wasn't time for your turn yet..."
Dorian stammered, trying to plead his case.
"Irrelevant. Let us have a productive session."
Raon’s cold smile remained fixed, showing he wasn't interested in excuses.
-He really is a monster.
Wrath sighed, witnessing the blatant bullying.
"Ugh..."
Dorian tried one last time to beg for his life, but the words wouldn't come.
"Ten minutes have passed."
The moment the clock ran out, Raon unleashed a ferocious strike with Heavenly Drive. Dorian turned and sprinted across the arena with a terrified shriek.
"I don't want to be strong! Just let me live in peace!"
With a steady stride, Raon tapped the pommel of his sword against the forehead of the now-unconscious Dorian a few times before making his way back to the main dueling stage.
"It seems the tournament brackets were honest after all."
He let out a short, sharp laugh as he watched his next opponent approach from the opposite side.
"Meeting in the quarter-finals... how fortuitous."
He loosened his wrist, locking eyes with the Queen of Swords, Brigitte, who stood confidently before her followers.
"The Divine Sword Assembly is a serious contest, but it is also a celebration. We would never dream of tampering with the spirit of the event."
Brigitte gave a nonchalant shrug, as if the matchup were purely the work of destiny.
"The Sect Leader versus the Sword Emperor... and only in the quarter-finals?"
"It’s way too early for this! But I can't wait to see it!"
"Who's your money on?"
"Our leader, obviously!"
"I don't know... the Sword Emperor looks like he's on another level today."
The Unyielding Blade disciples watched with bated breath, the air thick with tension.
"Let us begin."
Raon drew Heavenly Drive, his posture shifting into the low, predatory stance of a hunting wolf.
"I assume you won't require any special treatment just because you are my elder."
As he spoke, he channeled the essence of the Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation, causing a shimmering heat to dance along the silver length of his blade.
"Naturally."
Brigitte tilted her chin up and unsheathed her own sword. Her expression hardened into a mask of absolute frigidity.
"I will show you the heights that we sisters have achieved through our lifelong devotion to the blade."
