"When blades speak, words become meaningless."
The moon hung heavy above the Verdant Forest, its pale light streaking through the canopy in broken shafts. The rain that had once fallen softly now turned sharp, slicing through the darkness like threads of silve
And beneath that shimmering rain — two figures clashed.
The stillness shattered with a single, echoing boom.
A shockwave rippled outward, tearing through the trees, shaking the roots beneath the soaked earth. Leaves burst into the air like shrapnel, caught between the colliding forces of two cultivators whose power made the forest tremble.
The first figure stood upon a fallen branch, straw hat tilted low, water streaming down the brim. His presence was calm yet suffocating — the kind of calm that belonged to a mountain that had endured a thousand storms.
His blade rested loosely in his hand, a short blade, its edge gleaming faintly through the rain. The energy radiating from him pulsed with heavy rhythm Chaos Pulse Realm, second stage.
He was steady. Grounded. Every inch of his presence was ironclad control.
Across from him stood another figure, his aura sharp and cold.
Prince Noah Asterion.
His long black hair clung to his back, silver eyes glinting with confidence and cruelty alike. The chaos energy around him flickered like distorted light — beautiful, unstable, dangerous.
Chaos Pulse Realm, fifth stage.
Between them, the rain seemed to slow, every droplet suspended midair, reflecting the faint glow of their chaotic auras.
The forest held its breath.
Then—
Noah moved.
With a sudden twist of his wrist, he swung his katana upward, slicing through the nearest falling droplet.
Ping!
The droplet shattered, compressing his chaotic energy until—
Boom!
It exploded outward like a bullet, whistling through the air toward the straw-hatted man.
In that same instant, the man's eyes glinted under the brim. His blade flicked — not to block, but to answer.
He too struck a droplet of rain.
The air trembled.
Two tiny spheres of water — each infused with deadly chaos energy — collided midair, detonating in a spray of vapor and wind.
The shockwave shredded the branches nearby.
And then, the world erupted into movement.
Both men disappeared — streaks of light and water weaving through the forest.
Their blades sang against one another, the echoes of steel colliding in a rhythm too fast for mortal eyes to follow.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Each strike carried the weight of killing intent.
Noah's swordsmanship was a dance of illusions. His movements blurred, bending like reflections on disturbed water — unpredictable, flowing, almost ghostly. Every strike came from a direction that defied logic, his chaos energy twisting reality around him.
The straw-hatted man's blade, however, was the opposite.
His style was firm. Absolute. Each strike was direct, each movement anchored like the roots of an ancient tree. There were no wasted gestures, no deception — only precision.
When Noah's sword became mist, his opponent's blade became thunder.
When Noah disappeared, the man's presence anchored the world around him.
It was illusion against reality, wind against stone, and neither yielded ground.
The rain itself had become their weapon.
Every droplet that fell was caught, condensed, reshaped, and hurled. Each flick of their wrists launched high-speed projectiles of chaos water, their collisions lighting the forest in brief flashes of energy.
The storm raged — not from the heavens, but from their clash.
Noah's eyes narrowed, lips curving into a cold smile. "You've improved, whoever you are," he said quietly, his voice echoing faintly between the thunder of their blows.
The man didn't reply. His movements answered instead — a sharp, clean slash that forced Noah back two steps.
For a moment, they paused.
Their blades dripped with rain and blood alike.
The night wind howled between them, carrying the smell of ozone and steel.
Noah exhaled slowly, eyes glowing faintly silver in the darkness. "Your energy… firm and steady. You're no assassin. You're someone who's used to command."
Still, no response.
The only sound was the steady drip of water from the man's blade.
Then Noah smirked. "Fine. Keep your silence."
He raised his sword again, chaos flaring around him like a silver flame. "But silence won't save you."
The next strike was faster than sight.
Boom!
The ground exploded beneath Noah's feet as he vanished, reappearing directly above his opponent. His blade descended in a flash of light, slicing through the rain.
The straw-hatted man met it head-on, his smaller dagger clashing against the full force of Noah's strike.
The impact cracked the air itself.
Waves of chaos rolled outward, bending the trees backward, flattening the grass. The forest glowed briefly — the collision of energies painting the world in blinding silver and green.
Then the sound came.
BOOM!
The two were thrown backward, each sliding across the soaked ground.
For a moment, they simply stared at one another through the sheets of rain.
The forest had gone eerily quiet again — only the steady rhythm of raindrops breaking the silence.
Noah adjusted his grip on his katana, his lips curving faintly. "You're not bad," he said softly. "But you're not on my level."
He stepped forward, his aura surging — raw power pressing down on the forest like a falling sky.
The straw-hatted man's stance didn't waver. He lifted his dagger, its tip glowing faintly green as chaos energy rippled along its edge.
No words were exchanged this time.
The air between them shattered as they moved again.
The sound of steel and thunder mixed until they were indistinguishable. Every blow sent sparks flying. Every parry carved trenches in the earth.
Their movements blurred together — two storms colliding, tearing apart the calm of the night.
And then, suddenly, the forest split open with another boom, brighter and louder than the rest.
For a heartbeat, it seemed as if even the rain had stopped.
The two figures stood apart once more — one breathing heavily, the other calm but bleeding faintly along his shoulder.
Lightning flashed overhead.
In that flicker of light, Noah smiled — cold, cruel, victorious.
And the straw-hatted man, despite the blood running down his arm, smiled back.
Not with arrogance. But with quiet defiance.
As if to say: You're not the only one who knows how to endure.
The rain began to fall harder again, masking their faces.
Their auras flared once more — and just as they were about to clash again, the scene cut away.
———
Back in the Capital of Asterion, the night was serene.
Inside the royal palace, the Crown Prince, Kaen Asterion, sat cross-legged on a silk mat before a low table.
A porcelain teapot rested between him and a figure cloaked in black — a masked guest, silent and motionless.
Kaen poured the tea calmly, his movements unhurried, graceful. The faint sound of the liquid pouring filled the room, blending with the soft hum of the distant rain outside.
The mask's reflection shimmered faintly in Kaen's golden eyes.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Kaen smiled faintly, tilting his cup. "The moonlight is lovely tonight, isn't it?"
The masked figure nodded once.
And in that stillness — just as the moonlight painted the surface of the tea a soft silver — the world seemed to hold its breath again.
Whatever conversation they were about to have… would change everything.
But before a single word could be spoken—
The chapter ends.
"When the rain falls upon blades, only those who endure the storm will see the dawn."