Zachary was in the worst situation possible. He had freed himself from the initial siege, but he was still locked in a death-match with two Awakened Monsters.
In an ideal world, Zachary might have been considered an awakened monster himself.
It was a well known fact that a human with a Soul Core could be considered a Beast. And Zachary had the [Conqueror's Soul] Attribute, that made his Soul twice as potent. The effects that the saturation of the Core had on the body was subtle but pretty straightforward, it enhanced the anatomy and phisiology until they reached their maximun capacity and they stood at the peak as Dormant humans.
The Core formed through Flow Control was different. While mantaining it active in his heart did enhance his Body ever so slightly, his Body still remained with a Dormant potency. It was only after the essence flowed through his arteries toward his body that his potency raised to something close to a Pseudo-Awakened.
So in an ideal situation, where Zachary had complete mastery over Flow Control he could stand against the Stone Saints as equals... Unfortunately, he was far from ideal situations.
Zachary lagged behind in power, defense, numbers, and even battle mastery. He had been growing at a tremendous rate since arriving at the Forgotten Shore, a growth rate that had continued with his hunts in the Dark City. But these weren't any normal monsters...
They were Nether's children.
They were the army birthed in the Darkness of the Underworld that managed to shed divine blood. Once designed to bring peace, they instead marched towards the heavens and made the Dark Skies bleed. A single, broken Saint had nearly ended him; now, two vengeful wraiths stood ready to cull a Blasphemer.
To bridge that gap, Zachary had only one weapon left.
"Tempo," he whispered through clenched teeth.
The battle would flow under his terms, or it would not flow at all.
Like the release of a drawn bow, his taut muscles uncoiled. He propelled himself forward, a flash of motion piercing the dark veil of rain. Ender's Solace shone dangerously, huming with the essence that sharpened its edge to a molecular sliver.
He reached the female Saint in a heartbeat. She was ready. She caught his thrust on the curve of her shield, twisting her stone body to let the dark blade glide harmlessly into the air. Danger Sense surged instantly. In the same fluid motion, the Saint used the opening to drive the heavy rim of her shield toward Zachary's skull.
He didn't fight the momentum. He followed the glide of his sword, twisting his entire frame to deliver an essence-enhanced back-kick to the taller Saint closing in from the side. The blow was blocked by a shield, but it created the sliver of space he needed.
Zachary bolted toward the yawning darkness of the Cathedral. If he could lure one more into the domain of the Fallen Devil, he could find his open—
Danger Sense screamed. Zachary twisted mid-air, catching a bashing shield strike with his armored shoulder. The impact sent him gliding across the wet stone, away from the safety of the doors.
The female Saint didn't pursue. She stood tall, a silent, immovable wall between him and the Cathedral.
'They've already lost a brother to the dark,' Zachary realized as he pushed himself up, his lungs burning. 'They won't give me another chance to use the devil against them.'
The taller Saint was already closing in from his flank. Zachary dropped into a low crouch, Ender's Solace in his left hand, while sparks of light began to swirl around his right.
Once again, they moved.
The female statue closed on him with impossible speed. At his side, Cinder Eyes alerted him to the incoming arrival of the tall wraith. Focusing to the limit, Zachary saw the diagonal slash blurring toward his temple. Flowing essence to his arm, he met the stone blade with the reinforced edge of Ender's Solace, guiding the force away with the Gentle Sword.
Finally, Antlered Wrath took form in his right hand. Grabbing the warhammer close to the head, he delivered a heavy, blunt thrust to the uncovered chest of the statue. The attack lacked the momentum to cause lasting damage, but the Stone Saint was pushed back, giving him the precious second needed to meet the tall Saint already looming over him.
He twisted Ender's Solace in his hand and attached it to the steel cables at his waist. Danger Sense was screaming. Grabbing the hammer correctly, he brandished it to meet the incoming falling sword. His arms groaned under the pressure of the clash, but Zachary used the pointed end of the hammer as a hook, twisting the sword downward into the stone.
Releasing the hammer, he grabbed Ender's Solace again. Lowering his body into a firm posture, he drew the sword from his waist with daunting speed. The statue was ready, covering its side with its shield; sparks flew as the blade ricocheted. But Zachary didn't stop. He followed the path of his sword, twisting his body to deliver a lightning-fast cut above the shield's rim.
CRACK.
A deep fissure appeared beneath the visor of the helmet. Danger Sense shrieked again.
Disengaging from the tall statue, he retrieved the warhammer. Twisting his waist and channeling essence to his legs, he delivered a crushing blow to the smaller Saint. She raised her shield in a successful block that rang through the plaza like a funeral bell.
"One," Zachary whispered, the word drowned by the cacophony of rain.
Instead of returning to his posture, he seized the inertia of the heavy hammer, sending essence to his back to control the swing. He twisted his entire frame, delivering a devastating blow directly into the dark floor of the plaza.
"Two."
Debris and heavy drops of water exploded upward, meeting the downpour in a chaotic spray. The female Saint was caught off guard, losing her balance momentarily. Zachary seized the chance, gripping his jian and applying his Insight of the Heavy Sword. He delivered a vertical slash aimed at the statue's head, ready to nail her to the ground.
But even in her awkward position, she was a Battle Master. She raised her shield with incredible dexterity, redirecting his slash. From behind the cover, her stone sword lunged forward, aimed directly at Zachary's unguarded heart.
Danger Sense urged him to action. Instinctively twisting his torso, he caught the thrust on the steel spaulder of his shoulder. The metal dented with a groan—as did Zachary's shoulder—but the reaction was perfect. He had just performed a desperate armor technique.
Using the brief opening, Zachary delivered a superficial cut along the Saint's arm, drawing a spray of ruby dust. Following the incessant warning in his mind, he turned his attention back to the other wraith. Retrieving Antlered Wrath, he caught a heavy cut against the long shaft and used the momentum to disengage entirely.
"Fuuu."
Zachary exhaled a hot breath that rose as mist. Across from him, through the heavy veil of rain, two pairs of burning rubies followed his every move. Despite the cold water washing over him, steam was rising from his shoulders.
He was burning up.
Blood and essence pumped through his heart as his Core thrummed with incredible pressure.
He knew from his previous clash that these creatures were incredibly adaptable—to the point of creating a technique similar to Nephis to counter his reactions. He couldn't allow them that chance.
The moment they did, it would be the harbinger of his defeat.
He had to keep the battle flowing under his terms, rapidly shifting between the heavy, blunt force of the hammer and the sharp, fast slashes of his sword. Each time Danger Sense detected a shift in their behavior, he immediately changed the tempo.
In other words, the initiative of the battle was always with Zachary through the fight.
"Ten seconds..." Zachary whispered as the heavy footsteps drew nearer. He couldn't help but laugh honestly at the sound. "Hahaha... I can't do this."
Just ten seconds of high-intensity combat was enough to reach that conclusion. Because while his attacks were finding their mark and he held the tempo, the Children of Nether held the battlefield. He looked at the wet stone at his feet. While he was fighting, they had been subtly herding him—moving him further and further away from the Cathedral.
Danger Sense buzzed continuously, a sharp pain like a hot nail driven into the edge of his skull. A heavy headache was blooming. Zachary winced, focusing to the absolute limit as he gripped the warhammer with both hands.
"Bring it on."
The rhythmic clatter of stone on metal was the only clock Zachary had left.
The female Saint lunged, her stone sword a blur of grey through the dark veil of rain. Zachary didn't meet her head-on. He shifted his weight, following the attack path through Cinder Eyes and parrying it with Ender's Solace. His wrist trembled painfully. With a wince he drove his blade into the wet stone to anchor it, he grabbed the warhammer instead and flicked it up in a rising arc, catching the Saint under the rim of her shield.
"Three."
The impact shuddered through his bones, but he didn't stop to admire the work. Jumping aside from a stone kick, he snatched his sword and rolled on the wet ground, his Core humming in his chest. Flow Control was the only thing allowing him a reprieve in this fight, but it still wasn't perfect. His body wasn't tempered enough to endure the crude reinforcement for long; he had to use it sparingly, choosing the exact right moments.
This was a marathon, and he couldn't allow himself to fall before his enemies did.
The surrounding ruins seemed to close in on him. The heavy rain turned the blackened streets into a labyrinth of slick obsidian and treacherous shadows. The Dark City felt alive—a cold, indifferent witness to the execution.
The Saints moved with an insidious, terrifying method. They weren't just fighters; they were natural hunters. They didn't lunge recklessly. Instead, they circled, their heavy boots splashing rhythmically in the dark water as they stripped Zachary of his space and his breath.
Every time he tried to find an opening, a shield was there. Every time he tried to retreat, a stone sword cut off the path.
The tall Saint stepped in, a horizontal cleave aimed at his waist. Zachary dropped, the hammer swinging in a tight, punishing circle that shattered the stone pavement beneath the Saint's feet.
"Four."
He swapped again—leaving Antlered Wrath behind as he retrieved the blade from his belt. He delivered a flurry of three lightning-fast stabs against the female's shield, not meant to kill, but to keep her eyes on the blade while his feet repositioned.
The tall Saint saw through the feint, his shield bashing into Zachary's side. Zachary took the blow on his armored shoulder, the iron spider-plate buckling further, but he used the momentum to spin, grabbing the warhammer from where he'd left it behind him.
"Five."
The strike caught the tall Saint across the thigh. Dust and stone chips sprayed into the rain.
The air was thick with the scent of ozone and wet stone. Zachary's heart thrummed against his ribs like a trapped bird. He could feel the Saints adapting, their movements becoming more synchronized, their ruby eyes tracking the rhythm of his swaps. They were waiting for fatigue to turn his "Tempo" into a stumble.
He pivoted, dodging a twin-thrust from both wraiths. He drove the hammer's head into the ground, using it as a pivot to swing himself behind the female Saint. He brought the hammer around in a devastating backswing.
"Six."
The blow caught the side of her shield. The vibration of the strike was so loud it momentarily deafened him. Zachary's vision blurred with the effort, his lungs screaming for air that was more water than oxygen. Steam billowed from his skin, his body heat clashing with the freezing downpour.
The tall Saint lunged over his companion's shoulder, the stone blade aimed at Zachary's throat. Zachary didn't move back. He stepped into the guard, the hammer already coming down in a vertical crush that forced the Saint to raise his shield with both hands to catch the weight.
"Seven."
Zachary stared into the ruby eyes of the tall Saint, his own crimson gaze burning with a feral, exhausted light. And with a hot breath, he moved again, his frame cutting through the downpour as he closed on the statues.
He was ready to change weapons when Danger Sense shifted—dangerously.
With a vein throbbing in his forehead, Zachary dodged beneath a slash and ducked a sudden boot aimed at his head.
Something had changed.
Just as he was about to grab Ender's Solace at his waist, the female Saint suddenly matched his acceleration and thrust with the edge of her shield. But instead of aiming for him, she aimed for his fingers.
He could swear he heard the sound of a nail sealing a coffin as he accepted the realization: the Stone Saints were beginning to target the moment he shifted weapons. They wanted to disarm him.
Their counteroffensive had begun.
Prioritizing his hands, Zachary released Antlered Wrath at the right moment. The weapon was sent flying behind him with a loud clang. Zachary didn't remain there, already moving into his counterattack—lowering his posture and grabbing the sword as if he were a samurai unsheathing his blade. Channeling essence to his shoulders, he drew Ender's Solace as a dark line that cut the rain.
The stone sword was already over him, but Zachary met the clash with a perfect counter. Gliding Ender's Solace over the edge of the stone blade, it rose like a coiling snake, aiming at the unarmored armpit of the stone revenant.
A mix of the Gentle and the Swift Sword!
A spray of ruby dust met the dark rain as the female statue quickly retreated, salvaging her arm. But Zachary wasn't given time to breathe—the other statue was already attacking his left side. Zachary knew it was too late to dodge, so instead he met the slash with his raised left arm, intending to block with his vambrace.
Iron screeched under stone, yielding at the end. Zachary's head throbbed as Danger Sense continued screaming warnings. The blade went through steel, flesh, and just as it was about to reach bone, Zachary released the sword in his right hand and shoved the stone arm away with his now-free palm. With his left arm freed from danger, he grabbed Ender's Solace midair and thrust from behind the shield, driving the blade into the armpit and locking the limb in place.
Without missing a beat, Zachary seized the stationary shield and brought it down, using it as support to vault over it. He delivered a reinforced knee to the helmet, cracking it—and finally met the grey face of his executor. Still airborne, he twisted over the Stone Saint, gripping Ender's Solace and wrenching it free, carving another cut across the right shoulder as he propelled himself away.
But at that moment, the female Saint arrived—ready to catch the Blasphemer while he was still in the air, unable to dodge. Danger Sense screamed as a deadly thrust shot toward his face. Pushing his focus to the limit, Zachary saw the attack line and met it with a slash of his own.
This time he didn't redirect it. He couldn't—he lacked firm footing.
Instead, he used the Insight of the Gentle Sword, turning the enemy's attack into a vector that redirected his fall. He flew away from the Saints and landed near Antlered Wrath on the broken ground.
The female Saint turned immediately, but Zachary was already above her, driving the nailed end of the hammer into her shield. Cracks spiderwebbed outward as he blasted her back.
"Nine."
The headache was now ever-present. Twisting his body, Zachary dodged a consecutive strike from the stone sword. Channeling more essence into his legs, he closed in on the tall Saint—only to be met with immovable stone and a deadly edge.
They moved through a shattered street, amid the ruins of a dead city and the constant weeping of the sky. Zachary felt a persistent shiver down his spine. This wasn't born from Danger Sense, but from instinct—because while he controlled the momentum of the fight, the Stone Saint was utterly indifferent to it.
The stalwart use of the round shield was one thing. The devious way the blade twisted toward his heart and neck was another. If not for the nightmarish pain of Danger Sense, Zachary would already be dead. Cinder Eyes tracked perfectly how the dark longsword cut through the veil of rain toward his neck. He placed his sword against his vambrace and glided along the edge, locking blades at the guards—
—but the shield snapped up in front of his face, forcing him to retreat.
Danger Sense warned again. The female Saint was closing in, hammer still nailed to her shield. Zachary leapt to meet her, lowering his stance and widening his footing. Channeling essence into his waist, he twisted sharply, smashing shoulder and elbow into the raised shield.
Dahrio's Guard-Breaking Technique!
With a thunderous gong, the female Saint was sent flying once more. Zachary used the recoil to retrieve the warhammer from her shield. The tall statue was already upon him—but Zachary only smiled, essence surging through his arteries.
"Ten."
Hammer and sword met in the rain. A blinding kinetic explosion followed as the stone blade and arm shattered into ruby dust and grey debris. At the last instant, the Saint twisted its body, barely salvaging itself.
The short Saint reentered the fight immediately, striking for Zachary's exposed back. But he was ready. Using the momentum of his charged attack, Zachary spun and hurled the hammer at her.
Fearing another thunderous blow, the female Saint raised her shield fully—but the impact was deceptively light.
Understanding flickered behind ruby eyes. She tried to snap the hammer's shaft with her shield.
Zachary unsummoned it instantly.
'They're wary of the hammer now,' he thought tiredly as the maimed Saint leveled its shield's edge at him. 'They won't let me summon it again.'
But oh well... 'It served its purpose.'
They didn't allow him a moment to rest, diving back into a relentless offensive. Now that the hammer was out of the equation, Zachary had to double his effort to keep his claim over the tempo. He sharpened his focus to a razor's edge.
The female statue closed on him, but Zachary didn't focus on her. Instead, he dashed toward the broken Saint, ready to finish the job. Now that the most dangerous part of the monster—its arm—was gone, Zachary thought he could finally deal the death blow.
How mistaken he was.
The sharpness of the stone sword had always been the threat that kept him on edge. He thought that now—stripped of its main weapon and exposed—the Stone Saint would fall back into a supporting role. Instead, the broken revenant matched his dash and thrust with the edge of its shield, twisting its body mid-motion to carve diagonally with the rim.
Not only had the Stone Saint kept its deadly edge, but the momentum of its attacks had increased. Just as before, it had shed all pretense of defense and gone "all in" on the attack. It used the shield with unparalleled technique—sophisticated and deadly—using wide movements as cover for its shorter comrade and even using the wind pressure to spray rain into Zachary's eyes.
Zachary dodged a thrust that threatened to cave in his chest. Instead of retreating, he used the piercing warning of Danger Sense to pave a way in, aiming for the broken side. He drove the enhanced edge of Ender's Solace into the statue's fractured flank.
The sword went in with difficulty. Planting his feet heavily, Zachary wrenched the blade free, sending broken stone and ruby dust spraying messily into the air. But the broken wraith didn't even flinch. It twisted backward, crashing its shield against his armored shoulder.
Zachary groaned in agony, the rain swallowing his scream. The female Saint was already there to receive him. Her stone sword lunged for his neck, but the dark blade glided away, missing his eyes by mere centimeters. Locking his legs at the last moment, he created the feint that allowed him the opening to disengage completely.
The Bewitching Sword.
Now that Antlered Wrath was gone, the only way to keep the tempo going was to shift between battle styles as rapidly as possible. The Simple Sword gave him options, but there was a deeper nexus that allowed it all to make sense: the Broken Sword style. That devious, adaptable style allowed Zachary to shift between techniques without missing a beat.
Swallowing a sigh, he sent essence from his core to his legs and jumped into action, puddles bursting where he landed. The broken statue closed on him again, ruby dust bleeding from its wounds, yet it still stood tall.
Zachary swept his dark jian in a low, desperate arc. He wasn't aiming for stone; he was aiming for the water. He slashed the surface of a deep puddle, sending a wall of black grit into the Saint's visor. It was a "Fool's" trick—a moment's distraction—but it gave him the half-second to lunge back at the female Saint as he followed the warning in his head.
Danger Sense was no longer a warning; it was a physical assault. It felt as if a white-hot needle was being twisted into his brain, synchronized with the pounding of his heart. He parried a strike, the force nearly snapping his wrist. He was fighting on fumes, essence, and pure spite.
Backing away from a horizontal shield bash, Zachary quickly thrust his sword vertically, piercing the broken Saint's arm. He was about to twist the blade to sever the limb when Danger Sense screamed agonizingly. Retrieving the blade, he immediately slashed backward to parry an incoming strike.
But his blade met nothing. Instead, his sword glided over the armored arm of the female Saint and became lodged in her inner elbow. Ruby dust barely flowed from the joint. Zachary tried to disengage, but the sword remained locked. He looked into the darkness of her visor, and within the burning ruby embers, he found a vindictive glow.
They were going to break Ender's Solace.
With a chill running down his spine, Zachary immediately unsummoned his Soul Companion. It was the right decision, but the consequences were dire: he was now disarmed. A shield immediately slammed into his side, and Zachary struggled to let the impact glide over his spaulder.
He backed over the wet stone, that persistent chill refusing to disappear. Danger Sense was now a constant, throbbing headache that threatened to shatter his focus even as it sharpened his reflexes to a dangerous degree. He was trapped in a paradox of pain and precision.
'They... they noticed the enhanced edge,' Zachary realized, gulping loudly as he watched the Stone Saints vault over a broken wall toward him. 'They're stripping me of my strengths, little by little.'
Zachary clenched his teeth in fury, sparks appearing in his palm. But at that moment, the statues appeared before him, interrupting the call of his Memory.
He tried to back away, searching for the smallest opening to summon a Memory, but his executors wouldn't allow it. They moved with deadly precision, closing in from both sides in perfect harmony. The coordination helped Zachary realize a terrifying truth: he was only fighting two Awakened Stone Saints, but they had once been a Legion—an army of countless ranks ready to make the heavens bleed.
'How did I even think of clashing against them?' Zachary thought as he dodged two consecutive slashes, twisting his body to prevent his head from being turned into a pile of mush by a shield.
The reality remained clear: they weren't giving him the slightest opening. He felt suffocated. Sooner or later, he would trip or falter, and that would be the end.
'If they won't give me an opening, I'll take one.' Zachary steeled his resolve and called his essence back from his legs. His speed dropped immediately.
The revenants noticed the change instantly. The broken Saint lunged over him, its shield extended like a battering ram. Zachary clenched his teeth, bracing for the impact, and channeled every drop of essence into his left, armored arm while his right held a blocking position.
CLANG.
The sound cut through the rain and shattered his eardrum. Zachary felt his humerus and radius give way slightly under the strain. But he rode the blow, letting the force propel him away. He crashed through the front of a decaying building, disappearing into a mess of rubble and dark water.
He slammed into a wet wooden table and rolled pathetically across the floor. As he turned toward the corner of the dark room, Cinder Eyes caught something unnatural: a skeleton. A human skeleton.
But there was no time to dwell on the dead. Zachary scrambled up and ran toward the back wall, away from the approaching Saints. He crashed through the rotted black stone and fell back into the open, landing on a lower street of the Dark City.
'I need to stop doing this...' he thought, his internal lampooning cut short by a sharp pain in his side. 'I can't allow being shoved through buildings to become a habit.'
With a wince, he felt the metal biting into his shoulder. His spaulder had finally reached its limit, bending unnaturally into his flesh. He tore the mangled armor away, and in the same motion, sparks appeared in both his hands.
A low rumble echoed from the building above. Just as the female Saint came flying down from the hole he'd made, the Memories finally materialized: Ender's Solace in his right hand and Midnight Shard in his left. Zachary crossed the blades in front of him, catching her deadly slash with the austere tachi.
Sparks flew into the dark, weeping sky. In the moment of the clash, his mind was sent reeling back in time.
"Double swordsmanship?" Eddard asked, sounding amused. He looked down at Zachary, who was sitting tiredly on the dojo floor, a broken lip betraying the beating he had just received.
"Yes, teacher," Zachary answered as he wiped his bloody lip with his sleeve. It had been two weeks since he had started training with the mundane geezer, and while he hadn't been able to clinch a single victory, he hadn't lost a single time either. The benefits of being a Dormant fighting a mundane, perhaps.
"Don't you think it would be cool, going around fighting Nightmare Creatures brandishing twin swords?" Zachary asked, imagining scenes from his favorite webtoons.
Eddard looked at him for a few seconds before erupting into thunderous laughter. "Hahahaha! You're barely able to wield a stick, and now you're thinking of using two?"
Color crept into Zachary's cheeks as he listened to the old captain mocking him loudly.
"Hahaha! Listen here, you brat," Eddard said with a final chuckle before his eyes turned serious. "Someone who focuses on a single sword is an expert. Someone who uses two swords is just a dumbass who bites off more than he can chew."
He paused, his gaze intensifying. "Now, someone who uses three swords... you'd better run."
Zachary gulped. "Why?"
"Either he's a crazy person running around with three swords, or he's a true expert capable of handling them perfectly," Eddard said, his eyes distant as if he were picturing such a person.
Zachary nodded for a second before saying absentmindly, "And four swords?"
Eddard turned to him sharply with a weird frown. "Where would you even find someone with four arms, you fool?"
"Where would you find someone with three?!" Zachary immediately argued back. "Isn't it more logical to find someone with four arms rather than three? It seems more balanced and symmetrical."
Eddard looked at him with a dejected expression before sighing in resignation. "It seems I hit you too hard for your own good. You're dumber than before..."
Zachary frowned at the words, whispering, "Damn geezer—"
"What did you say?!" Eddard snapped.
Zachary flinched, but he refused to back down. "It seems age has really caught up to you... You—"
"—Damn old bastard!" Zachary cursed in the present as he parried a shield with the dark tachi and thrust with Ender's Solace, only to back away immediately, unable to complete the attack.
Zachary stumbled a few steps and finally saw where he was. Through the thick veil of rainwater and mist, he recognized the dark, broken square. Monster remains lay there quietly, cold witnesses to the execution that would soon bring them a companion for their eternal rest. He was back at the Stone Saints' plaza—the place where it had all begun when he had commanded his Echo to lure one of them away.
Whether by purpose or some twist of Fate, the Stone Saints had herded him through the Dark City and back to their territory. It was as if they wanted to entomb the Blasphemer in the holy ground where their fallen brothers might return.
Zachary didn't have time to dwell on the irony, as his trembling hands betrayed his current problem. Eddard had been telling the truth all along. Using two swords at the same time was incredibly difficult. To wield a sword properly, one needed a strong foothold and firm torque from the waist. With two swords, those mechanics became chaotic, each weapon disturbing the other's path without reaching a satisfactory result.
That was why most fighters focused on a single blade; the effort was more worthwhile than attempting to master something that might never yield results. But a single blade wasn't enough for what Zachary needed now.
'Focus, you damn bastard,' Zachary thought. He rolled across the wet floor, his hair clinging to his skin as he stood up and dodged a second strike. His plan was ready.
He would use the unbroken edge of Midnight Shard for defense and guard-breaking, while dealing damage with the enhanced edge of Ender's Solace. By splitting their roles, he could focus his full attention on a single blade for each intent.
Channeling essence into his legs and arms, Zachary jumped into action. The Stone Saints met his daring advance with their own. The finale was dawning on them.
Zachary met the charge with his blades crossed. The mechanics of the fight shifted instantly. On his left, Midnight Shard acted as an immovable anchor, catching the heavy stone strikes that threatened to shatter his guard. On his right, Ender's Solace hummed, a predatory needle looking for the slightest gap in stone armor.
He moved with a frantic, calculated desperation. The taller Saint, despite his missing arm and shattered helmet, was a nightmare of blunt force. He used his shield not just for defense, but as a crushing weight, leaning his entire stone mass into every bash. Zachary caught one such strike on the flat of Midnight Shard, the vibration rattling his teeth, before he spun away to deliver a lightning-fast riposte with Ender's Solace.
The blade bit into the tall Saint's thigh, but the female Saint was already there.
She lunged, her movements a blur of grey through the mist. Danger Sense screamed, the white-hot needle in Zachary's brain pulsing with agonizing frequency. He saw the shift in her boots—a tell-tale sign of a diagonal slash that would lead into a vertical follow-up.
Zachary leaned back, timing his dodge to the millisecond, his eyes fixed on the arc of the stone blade. He was clear. He was safe.
Then, the world tilted.
The stone sword didn't follow its natural arc. For a fraction of a second, the female Saint loosened her grip, letting the hilt slide through her palm as she thrust her arm forward. The blade gained a few extra inches of reach—just enough to bridge the "safe" gap Zachary had calculated.
The stone edge bit into his flesh, carving a line from his hip to his shoulder.
Zachary shuddered, a cold chill washing over him. He looked down at the wound, seeing the dark red line where Blood Weave worked overtime to keep his life-force from spilling onto the wet stone.
He had seen the attack. He had sensed the danger. But she had manipulated the timing and the distance specifically to trick his perception.
Another phantom sound of a nail hitting a coffin echoed through the square. They weren't just fighting him anymore; they were dissecting him.
They had begun to adapt to Danger Sense.
He took three wide steps back, his feet leaving dark trails on the wet floor. He was on the verge of shuddering again when the Stone Saints pursued him. Biting his lip until he tasted copper, he forced himself to focus, embracing the splitting headache and the stars dancing in his vision. Zachary gently redirected a shield strike with Midnight Shard, preparing to thrust his jian into the broken wraith's unguarded chest—but the female Saint was already there.
Zachary didn't meet her attack. He backed away immediately, the pain in his chest and the unreliable buzz of Danger Sense urging him to retreat. But he wasn't granted that mercy. The Stone Saints were warriors; they smelled victory.
He was at the ropes, barely fending off the onslaught, backed into a corner of stone and blades. The constant noise of Danger Sense was now working against him—a warning that felt more like a threat.
What if I trip? What if I flop? What if I sink? What if I fall?
The questions swarmed his mind, clouding his judgment. Zachary tried to purge them, twisting the tachi and delivering three sharp thrusts with Ender's Solace against the female Saint's shield. She received them gladly, twisting her stone sword over Midnight Shard. The blade's path bent unnaturally in his vision, a deceptive arc meant to kill.
Zachary closed his eyes. Focusing on his other senses, he parried the sword away, finally meeting the heavy lunge of the broken statue.
What if I can't? What if I hurt? What if I collapse? What if I fail? What if I lose?
The broken Saint refused to let him disengage. It locked its feet in place and shoved its shield with relentless strength, pinning Zachary. It was only for a second, but a second was all it took. Zachary raised his leg, charging it with essence, and delivered a kick to the statue's knee. The Saint faltered, and Zachary finally found the space to wrench himself back—just as the stone sword whistled toward his neck.
What if I die?
A flash of absolute clarity pierced Zachary's mind. In a desperate motion, he twisted his neck sharply. The stone edge sheared his ear away with a wet, sharp sound. But as the female Saint readied her follow-up, he vanished from her sight, moving swiftly like mist—no, like a cloud.
CRACK.
The sound of breaking stone resounded through the plaza. The female Saint stumbled back as ruby dust began to flow from a superficial cut on her neck. Zachary reappeared a few steps away, turbid air escaping his mouth in a thin, misty line.
It was Dahrio's footwork. The Witness Battle Arts were beginning to take form under the starless sky of the Forgotten Shore.
"What if I win?"
The words pierced through the roar of the downpour.
Unbeknownst to Zachary, ever since his fight against the Demon—since he had stood a breath away from death's door—illegible fear had made him play it safe. He had been afraid of tasting that void again. It was an instinctive shackle etched into his subconscious. His clash against the Spire Messenger had been bolstered by the certainty of the cohort; his hunts in the ruins had been controlled, never allowed to deviate from the script.
Those shackles had become heavier as his foretold death became an unbearable sentence. An invisible limit had formed in his soul, chaining his potential.
Now, he was free.
Hesitation was defeat. He was not going to lose.
The Stone Saints turned to face him through the rain, their ruby eyes burning with heavy contempt. No one had given them so much trouble and lived as long as the Blasphemer before them. Zachary met their momentum with his own, sinking into a low posture, both blades ready for the final clash.
"Let's win."