Danial’s tension eased slightly. So, this figure wasn’t an intruder but rather an avatar of the swordsman who had created the technique. His mind calmed as the System’s explanation settled in. He had nothing to fear—this was an opportunity.His heartbeat began to slow as curiosity replaced his initial fear. If this was the man who had created the Sword Drawing technique, Danial didn’t want to miss a single detail.The figure stepped forward into better view. The man wore simple robes, their fabric plain and unadorned, the color a faded gray as though worn by time. His face was humble, almost serene, with deep-set eyes that spoke of experience and wisdom. He looked more like a wandering hermit than a powerful warrior—an unassuming figure who might have gone unnoticed in a crowd. But as Danial stared, the man’s presence became increasingly overwhelming. Beneath that humble exterior was an aura of immense power, like a storm quietly raging beneath the surface.The hologram slowly drew th
Danial dumbfoundedly stared at the System panel, the words burning into his mind as if mocking him."1 billion???" His voice echoed through the empty realm, disbelief twisting his face. "What the hell are you talking about? Do you know how much 1 billion represents!?"The System’s cold, emotionless voice replied instantly, cutting through his protests. "This is the condition for leaving the Realm of The Broken Stars."Danial’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He gritted his teeth, feeling the tension in his jaw. For a few moments, he stood there, fists trembling, before he exhaled sharply and collapsed onto the ground. The weight of the challenge before him was crushing. His mind raced, trying to come up with a loophole, an alternative, something—anything—that could get him out of this impossible situation. But as the minutes dragged on, the harsh reality began to settle in."There’s no other way," Danial thought bitterly. "I’m stuck here until I complete one billion repetition
Determined to make something of himself, Howland started practicing martial arts on his own, copying the movements he had seen. At first, it was crude and amateurish, but his dedication soon paid off. As he grew older, he joined a local martial sect, where his talent became apparent. His progress was swift, and before long, he had surpassed most of his peers. By the time he entered his thirties, Howland had crossed the Mortal Level and stepped into the Master Level of cultivation, a feat that elevated his family’s status almost overnight.People in his hometown began to look at him with awe, and his family enjoyed the benefits of his success. They were no longer the struggling merchants they once were but respected members of the community. And as his reputation grew, so did his ambitions. He wanted more than just local fame—he wanted to make a name for himself in the capital, where the true powerhouses resided.His opportunity came when he was offered a position at the prestigious Ph
Danial stood in the vast, silent expanse of the Realm of Broken Stars. The realm itself was disorienting—there was no sense of time, no wind, no sound other than the rhythmic swishing of his sword. Every swing reverberated through the arcane array, but the place was deathly silent otherwise.Danial had long since lost track of how many swings he'd done. One billion—the target the System had set for mastering the Sword Drawing Technique, a number that felt so incomprehensibly large that it almost mocked him.He swung the sword, the weight of each strike sending tremors through his body. At around 250 swings, his muscles gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily, the sword slipping from his hand. His entire body was drenched in sweat, and his arms felt like lead.Panting, he looked up at the counter that hovered in the air, glowing with an almost mocking brightness. The numbers blinked back at him, a mere 250."I’ll never reach it…" Danial groaned, letting his head fal
Danial stared at the fading soul of the swordsman, his mind swirling with questions. "What did he mean?" he thought. The cryptic words echoed in his head: "I hope we meet again, young man." He wanted to call out, to ask about the technique, about the realm, about the nature of the swordmaster's existence—but it was too late. The soul dissolved into shimmering wisps of light, drifting into the infinite void of the Realm of Broken Stars, leaving Danial alone.He exhaled heavily, the weight of the intense training and the surreal experience settling in. The silence of the realm wrapped around him once again, and he turned his attention to the floating System, its familiar presence a small comfort in this strange place."Can I leave now?" Danial asked, his voice flat with fatigue. He could feel every muscle in his body aching from the relentless training, despite the rapid recovery cycles the realm had provided.The System emitted a soft ding and its cold, emotionless voice answered, "The
Danial hurried out of the hall, finally coming to a stop just outside its entrance. He leaned against the stone wall and exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the near confrontation with Master Howland lift from his shoulders. As the cool breeze from the academy grounds swept over him, he glanced down at his hands, lost in thought. The memories of the Realm of Broken Stars flickered in his mind, and his fingers twitched reflexively as he recalled the sword drawing technique he had practiced there.“All those years in the Realm… It was real,” he mused, flexing his fingers. “But would I be able to replicate that Sword Drawing technique here?” The thought gnawed at him. “I couldn't use internal energy while performing the technique there, but I could when I was recovering. What would happen if I used it now?”His curiosity burned stronger than ever. He needed to test the technique. Without hesitation, he made his way to one of the training halls reserved for swordsmanship and other physi
Sara stood across from Danial with a smirk, clearly amused by his confidence. "I hope you have a suitable technique," she teased. "If you think you can even scratch me with your little sword trick, you're dead wrong."Danial’s lips curved into a mysterious smile, his gaze steady. "We'll see about that."In the audience, Alex sneered at the sight, his eyes flashing with disdain. "Does Danial seriously believe he can compete with Sara in swordplay? The guy must be out of his mind." He crossed his arms, chuckling to himself.Leonard, more familiar with Danial’s odd resilience, shrugged, his tone cautious. "Let’s just watch first. There might be more to him than we’re seeing."Alex scoffed but kept his focus on the duel, mumbling, "It’ll be entertaining, at least. Can’t wait to see him humiliated."Just as the audience was settling in, two more people entered the dueling hall—Elysia and Oliver, both engaged in an important conversation. Elysia, known as one of the academy’s “Gods of War,”
With a sharp cry, Sara swung her saber downward, unleashing a massive golden arc of energy that roared toward Danial, splitting the air like a comet blazing through the sky. The platform trembled under the force, and the watching students could only stare in awe at the spectacle of raw power. The golden arc, now a radiant force of destruction, sliced through the air, closing in on Danial with terrifying speed.Danial’s expression hardened, but he remained motionless, waiting. His eyes, fierce and focused, calculated every second, every inch, measuring his moment to act.Buzz.His sword trembled violently as he swung upward with incredible precision. The blade cut the air with such ferocity that it seemed to slice through the atmosphere itself, creating a vacuum behind it. The force of his upward swing crashed into the golden arc, and for a single, blinding moment, there was silence.Then—BOOM.An explosion rang out, loud and violent. The golden arc was split cleanly down the middle, i
Danial’s mind raced as the hooded figure’s words echoed in his ears. “Fine meal? What does that mean?” A chill ran down his spine. There was no time to dwell on fear. His gaze shifted to Kuro, slumped and barely conscious, and a surge of determination coursed through him. No matter what, I’m getting us out of here.He glanced at Crystal and made a subtle hand gesture, signaling her to prepare. She caught his movement, her eyes widening in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. Taking a deep breath, she began circulating her internal energy, her frosty aura intensifying as she prepared for whatever was to come.Danial turned back to the hooded man, mustering every ounce of courage he had. His voice trembled slightly, but he managed to ask, “W-what do you mean? And who are you?”The hooded figure tilted his head, his hidden gaze boring into Danial. “You are not qualified to know,” he said, his voice low and dismissive. Without further ado, he raised his hand, which began to glow a
Santigo leaned back in his chair, the flickering light casting long shadows across the room. His smile stretched wider, full of mockery and malice, as his gaze shifted lazily between Danial, Pavan, and Crystal. "Took you long enough," he drawled, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "I was almost about to start another session with Kuro, but you arrived on time. Tsk tsk, what a pity."Danial’s eyes darted to Kuro, his chest tightening at the sight of his friend slumped over, bruised and barely conscious. Rage bubbled beneath his calm exterior, his fists clenching so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. He knew what "session" meant—and judging by Kuro’s state, it was far worse than he’d imagined.Gritting his teeth, Danial stepped forward, his fists clenching at his sides. “What do you want from us, Santigo?” His voice was low but edged with anger. “We’ve never crossed paths. We have nothing to do with you. So why drag Kuro into this?”Santigo waved his hand dismissively as if bru
The trio made their way through the desolate industrial district, their steps echoing faintly against the cracked asphalt and rusted pipes that sprawled across the ground. The Lapanzo Foundry loomed in the distance—a massive husk of steel and concrete, its faded name barely visible on the old factory’s rust-eaten board. Broken windows and gaping holes in the walls stared back at them like the hollow eyes of a corpse, and the air was heavy with a metallic tang mixed with an unexplainable decay that clung to their senses.There were no birds, no stray dogs, not even insects. The silence was unnatural, almost suffocating. Each breath they took felt too loud as if the factory itself might hear them.Pavan looked around, his face pale and his voice just above a whisper. "Yeah, this is the place where I’m going to die."Danial shot him a sideways glare. "No one is going to die." His voice was steady, but his jaw was clenched.Ahead, the board with “Lapanzo” scrawled in faded letters jutted
Danial sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers interlocked and his face stoic, though his mind churned with conflicting thoughts. Pavan, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, threw his arms up in frustration. "Danial!" Pavan snapped, his voice rising. "Are you even listening to me? How can you sit there so calmly when Kuro’s life is on the line? And Crystal—she’s a target too!" Danial finally looked up, his eyes sharp and cold. "Calm? Do I look calm to you, Pavan? I’m just not panicking like you are. If we lose focus now, Kuro’s as good as dead. And if Crystal gets caught in this... it’ll be worse." Pavan stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair. "Then tell me, what’s the plan? What are we doing? Because I can’t just stand here waiting for them to kill Kuro." Danial leaned back, exhaling deeply. "We can’t afford to act recklessly. Whoever this is, they’re not some common thug. They know Kuro’s strength, and they still managed to take him down. That tells me this is pers
Santigo paced around Kuro, his leather boots thudding against the cold, damp concrete floor. The dim overhead light flickered sporadically, casting ominous shadows across the room. The sharp edges of Santigo's features seemed exaggerated in the erratic glow, giving him an almost predatory appearance."Ah, cousin," Santigo drawled, his tone mockingly sweet as he circled Kuro. You look so pitifully tied up like this. I must say, it suits you—a star brought down to earth, groveling in the dirt."Kuro's wrists were bound tightly behind his back, and his legs were shackled to the chair he was forced to sit on. His clothes were torn, and his breath was ragged, but his eyes burned with a fiery defiance that refused to be extinguished.Santigo crouched down to meet Kuro’s glare, his grotesque grin widening. "Tell me, cousin," he whispered, his voice laced with venom, "how does it feel to have the tables turned for once? To be... insignificant?"Kuro’s chest heaved, his breath shallow but stead
Pavan’s hands shook uncontrollably as he processed the words he had just heard. His friend’s life was hanging by a thread, and the weight of the situation bore down heavily on him. His normally composed demeanor was in tatters, replaced by fear and anxiety.Danial, though visibly calmer, felt a storm brewing within. His sharp mind worked through the possibilities, piecing together how this could have happened. Kuro is strong, far stronger than most people realize. For someone to have captured him, this isn’t just about strength—it’s planning, manipulation… or something far worse.Pavan’s voice broke through Danial’s thoughts. “D-Danial, we can’t handle this on our own. We need to go to the authorities, to someone who can—”Danial interrupted, his tone firm but low. “We can’t.” His eyes locked onto Pavan’s. “You heard him. If we go to the authorities, Kuro’s life is the first thing he’ll take.”Pavan clenched his fists, frustration, and helplessness written all over his face. “But… wha
The emissaries from Emsgate couldn’t hide their broad smiles as Tanya descended the arena steps. Their demeanor was almost triumphant, as though Tanya’s victory over Viktor was a personal affront to Somerland. Tanya, however, walked with a quiet pride, ignoring the subtle gloating. Behind her, the terrain of the arena shifted and morphed back to its original flat state, the transformation accompanied by a low rumble.Viktor, meanwhile, trudged down the steps on the opposite side, his head hung low. The sting of defeat gnawed at him, and the weight of representing Somerland felt heavier with each step. In his heart, he felt as though he had disgraced his homeland.Waiting for him near the entrance was his master, a tall man with graying hair. The master’s sharp eyes softened as Viktor approached, clearly burdened. Placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, he spoke firmly yet kindly:“Viktor, just because you lost does not mean you failed to prove your worth. Your worth is measured by how ha
Elyisa put her hand into the ballot and took out two folded paper slips. She unfolded the slips with an air of authority. “Tanya from Emsgate and Viktor from Somerland,” she announced, her voice echoing throughout the stadium. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the audience as she reached into the twist and terrain ballot. Unfurling the next slip, she declared, “They will be fighting in a mountainous area. They will have to complete the fight in under four minutes, or both participants will be disqualified.”The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and startled whispers.“Four minutes? Is that even enough time for a proper fight in such rugged terrain?” one spectator exclaimed.“And they’ll both be disqualified if no winner emerges? That’s brutal,” another muttered, shaking their head.The tension was palpable as Tanya, seated among the participants, felt a pang of nervousness grip her chest. Her hands balled into fists on her lap as she stared at the giant screen displaying her name
As the first rays of sunlight graced the sprawling Capital, a vibrant energy filled the air. The second day of the Tournament of Sovereign Might had arrived, and the anticipation was palpable. Crowds thronged the streets, surging toward the massive stadium like waves, eager to secure their seats. Yesterday's attendance had been monumental, but today, it seemed to have doubled. Vendors called out, selling snacks and memorabilia, while children tugged at their parents, buzzing with excitement. The tournament fever had gripped the Capital, and all eyes were on the arena.Inside the stadium, the atmosphere was electric. Spectators filled the stands, the din of their chatter building into a crescendo. The VIP sections gleamed with luxury, reserved for the most influential figures in society: the Greatest Families. Clad in their signature styles, representatives from these families arrived in a display of opulence and prestige, each taking their place in the exclusive area.In the Kirk fami