Chapter 24 The Shaving Wind
Duke Victor's soldiers, twenty men in heavy plate armor, charge forward with leveled spears. They are seasoned veterans, Rank 30 and 40 Spirit Elders who have bullied this province into submission for years. To them, Lakan is just a small obstacle.
Lakan doesn't manifest his wings yet. He simply breathes in the Seven-Tone Chaos rhythm, his pulse syncing with the golden vibration of the Araw Kampilan.
"Severing Rhythm: Opening Movement."
Lakan blurs. He doesn't move away from the spears; he moves into them.
"Tapyas (The Shaving Wind)!"
As the first spear-tip lunges for his throat, Lakan doesn't block it head-on. He tilts Araw at a precise 15-degree angle. The blade "shaves" along the wooden shaft of the spear. The friction isn't silent—it produces a high-frequency screech as Lakan's soul power vibrates the wood.
The vibration travels up the spear like a lightning strike, hitting the soldier's hands. His nerves instantly go numb, his grip shatters, and the spear clatters to the ground. Lakan continues the motion, his blade dancing from one spear to the next in a single, fluid "shaving" arc.
Clang. Clatter. Clang.
In three seconds, ten soldiers are standing empty-handed, their arms shaking uncontrollably from the "Shaving Wind" that paralyzed their muscles.
"What... what kind of sorcery is this?" one soldier gasps, staring at his useless, tingling hands.
"It's not sorcery," Lakan says, spinning Araw into a reverse grip. "It's physics. You met my edge; I just decided you didn't need to hold yours anymore."
"Useless trash!" Duke Victor roars. He leaps from his horse, his body swelling as his Martial Soul, the Black-Widow Spider, manifests. Six hairy, chitinous legs burst from his back, and his skin turns a sickly, mottled purple.
Seven soul rings (Yellow, Yellow, Purple, Purple, Black, Black, Black) erupt around him. The air fills with a pungent, acidic green fog.
"Fourth Soul Skill: Venomous Rain!"
The Duke spits a barrage of concentrated acid needles, each one capable of melting through solid steel. They cover every inch of Lakan's escape path.
Lakan's eyes turn into deep pools of violet-gold. Adarna's Gaze of Truth tracks the trajectory of every needle. He doesn't panic. He transitions into the second form of the Severing Rhythm.
"Daloy ng Tubig (Flowing River, Still Water)."
Lakan's body becomes eerily fluid. As the first wave of needles reaches him, his soul power manifests as a swirling, transparent current around his blade.
Still Water: This is the defensive aspect. Instead of cutting the needles, Lakan's soul power acts like a calm pond. The needles hit the "current" around him and lose their momentum, circling his body in a controlled vortex of green liquid. He "absorbs" the energy of the attack into his own rhythm.
Flowing River: This is the redirection. With a sharp twist of his hips and a snap of the Kampilan, Lakan releases the stored energy. The acid needles don't fall; they are launched back at the Duke with twice the original speed and a golden "Phoenix" heat added to them.
"WHAT?!" The Duke screams, forced to use his own spider legs to shield his face as his own venom splashes against his armor, hissing and smoking.
Lakan stands amidst the melting cobblestones, his white robes untouched by a single drop of acid.
"You rely on poison because your heart is rotted, Victor," Lakan says, his voice amplified by the Song of Life. "You thought a Rank 72 Avatar could suppress a Noble Soul? Your spirit is heavy and slow. You aren't a spider; you're just a bug caught in a web you didn't realize I was weaving."
Lakan points Araw at the Duke. "I've shown you the Wind and the Water. Now... shall we see if your 'Black Widow' can survive the Endless Thread?"
Duke Victor's multiple eyes twitch in fear. He realized too late that the child standing before him isn't just a Spirit Hall envoy—he is a predator of a much higher order.