Chapter 28
Every movement appeared wild and random to anyone watching from the outside.
But for Theo, every swing and strike had a purpose so certain.
The battlefield, once ordinary, transformed into a field of dense energy, where each attack moved beyond the normal flow of time, rewinding second by second from -1, -2, -3, until every technique wove ripples of tension that bewildered the senses.
There was no pause, no break.
Only a collection of techniques moving simultaneously, defying the logic of nature, yet perfectly aligned with Theo's unwavering intent and concentration.
Each spinning, slicing, and gliding sword cut through space with terrifying power and precision, striking a single focal point, the root of every threat that had to be destroyed.
The Core of Lu unleashed such intensity that the surrounding field vibrated, the ground cracked, and the air seemed fractured by power beyond ordinary human scale.
Theo stood at the center of the whirlwind, his body calm even as every strike demanded the highest level of focus and awareness.
His left arm, previously paralyzed from the explosion, was hardly a hindrance as the Totality Technique redirected his focus and strength to all movements arising around him.
It was not just a display of swordsmanship, but a manifestation of the creativity and genius of a writer capable of turning theory into a dangerous reality.
In an instant, all techniques surged forward, targeting Cru directly, leaving no room to defend or evade.
Every movement was flawless precision, a harmony of power and strategy born from complete mastery over sword and spacetime concepts.
The battlefield became a brutal symphony, a blend of chaos and order, where each sword carried Theo's intent to utterly annihilate the root of the threat.
The pressure was so palpable that anyone standing too close would feel vibrations nearly shattering bones and shaking the Core of Lu.
'At least sixty percent of all the sword techniques I possess have already been deployed.
Slashes from bottom to top, from top to bottom, diagonally to the left, horizontally to the right—all moving with a single intent, one focal point.
You!!'
As a result, due to the sheer number of techniques deployed, Theo's gaze became increasingly lost within the whirlpool of attacks he had created.
Sword strikes flowed from bottom to top, from top to bottom, crossing diagonally from lower left to upper right, and straight horizontal lines guiding the tip of the sword toward the opponent's face.
Every motion flowed without pause, as if the battlefield were shaped by a rhythm and symmetry only understandable by a mind commanding all those techniques.
Theo's eyes, initially wide with vigilance, slowly narrowed following each pull and swing; his body adjusted position, held its breath, and assumed a stance reflecting readiness for the most formidable threat.
This position was not merely defensive, but the reflection of a true samurai aware that every step and swing determined life and death.
Theo's concentration was one hundred percent on a single point, the last place Cru was, even as energy radiated in all directions.
There was no room for error.
Every technique arising from the combined maneuvers had a shared purpose, and every movement generated ripples of tension spreading through the surrounding air.
The ground shook beneath his feet, dust and debris flew, emphasizing that the battlefield itself resisted uncontrolled power, yet power that was guided with perfect precision.
Theo's body endured all that pressure.
Even when his weak left arm served as a reminder of human limitations, he still managed to adjust so that each strike reached its endpoint unhindered.
As the techniques roared on, Theo's aura of strength and creativity radiated with intensity beyond measure.
Every sword was not merely a piece of metal in motion, but a manifestation of intuition and strategy born from the deep knowledge of a writer and warrior.
Each swing, each rotation, each strike moving backward beyond normal time flow became a staggering combination of chaos and order, creating a domain where anyone witnessing it would feel the near-physical tension pressing upon them.
Everything focused on a single point.
'So you're there, Cru.
I sense your aura to the right—slightly behind, yes?
My left hand can still move.
It hurts, but I can still grip the sword.
Right hand ready, elbow facing backward.
Our distance is very close, just two steps to slash your neck.
One strike… just one lightning slash, and then—'
Tssuuuung!
'Trap? Five steps of my own becoming a fatal mistake—'
BOOM!
'Beast!!'
Fuuuuuh!
'My body balance is disrupted, and time cannot find a proper footing.'
Wussssh!
'Is this what it feels like to face an Administrator unleashing their true power?'
Baaaam!
'Uhkk—!! Ghh—p… my stomach…!!'
Usssshh!
'Not an ordinary punch.
Like being hit by the laws of nature themselves.
Sa… you channeled it through your fist, didn't you?!
My Meridians are burning, my Energy Seed—almost shattered!
Rise!!'
The explosion then shook the air, sending ripples of energy that made the ground around Theo tremble violently.
Theo sensed Cru's presence just to his right, slightly behind, and without hesitation placed the sword in his left hand despite the pain, while his right arm moved, forming an elbow backward, ready to counter any strike.
The close distance allowed Theo to hold his ground without taking multiple steps back, yet ambition and adrenaline made him forget to calculate the usual five-step sequence he normally performed as both a writer and a warrior.
Only a few seconds later, Theo realized he had fallen into Cru's trap.
An explosion behind his back propelled his body forward uncontrollably.
His balance was shaken, and every step became precarious.
In that moment, Cru swiftly aimed a fist at Theo's stomach, concentrating force that not only pierced meridians and muscles but also penetrated the spiritual senses that normally provided Theo with instinctive awareness as a true samurai.
Theo was forced to retreat several meters, covering his mouth with his right hand as blood trickled out, though not excessively, while his left hand, still gripping the sword, pressed against his aching stomach, holding the pain while trying to remain stable.
The strike could not be underestimated and came without warning for Theo.
The fist that launched from Cru's Sa was no ordinary punch; it nearly shattered Theo's heart into pieces, undermining the Energy Seed that had long formed the foundation of his strength.
Every cell in his body trembled, yet years of reflex and experience as a battle-savvy writer kept him from falling fully, even as his body was forced to absorb extreme pressure and force moving at lightning speed.
'Blinking—with slow, deliberate tempo?
And it's not just an eye movement, but a herald of a coming storm.
My options are limited—first sword technique or second?
Or all remaining abilities?
But if I force this left arm, the Parameter could explode—death is a certainty, not just a possibility.'
Usssshhh!
'Alright—sword, switch to the other hand.
One hand bears the weight of this entire narrative.
Do not deceive yourself, Theo.
Count steps meticulously, estimate time with precision.'
DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, and DEATH!!
The sword stood upright, forming a barrier before his chest.
No flashy swings, no heroic composition.
Just a piece of steel challenging your fate, Cru.'
Theo stared at Cru from afar, his body still trembling from shoulder and left arm injuries, while his mind raced, calculating defensive strategies.
To be continued…