His subconscious was keeping him in combat, but charging headfirst into a long-range domain of thousands of sword strikes—Sanchin guard or not—was leaving him trapped in a brutal grind.
It was like trying to fight through a tsunami of crimson petals, while a blizzard of red blossoms rampaged and rained on him, with each petal containing a sword technique of a Martial Master.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
By activating her Martial Mind, Iaiashin had hoped that her Martial Embodiment would make him succumb and faint—or perhaps that the sheer pressure would shake him out of his trance. But whatever nightmare he was reliving, it refused to fade.
His strength, speed, and combat instincts had all been terrifyingly enhanced, along with a cold, unyielding ruthlessness... yet it seems his techniques and martial style remained the same.
...Overwhelming Suppression, wasn't it?
Is there really no choice but to put him in a near-death state? she wondered.
How long will this shiny golden form last?
As Iaiashin contemplated her options while continuously casting hundreds of sword techniques from her stationary stance, she suddenly noticed a change.
Something shifted.
Enhanced by the cognitive boost of the Super Saiyan transformation, Merun's subconscious battle mind began to process the assault.
Even operating purely on instinct, his reflexes began using that heightened cognition to weave through some of the falling petals, choosing to tank the rest with his unyielding Sanchin stance.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
But slowly...
His subconscious began making better and better decisions. His instincts analyzed the barrage in real time, discerning which attacks needed to be prioritized and which ones could be ignored; which ones were fast and which ones were slow; which ones were real and which ones were fake; which ones aimed to slow him down and which ones were truly fatal.
Iaiashin's chest rose and fell.
There wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes.
Only intoxicating excitement as a startling idea sparked in her head.
"Can he do it?..." she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.
His tremendous growth and near-invincible body astonished her. It was as though he was taking his sweet time learning her techniques in the middle of battle.
It wasn't mindless flailing. His cold, teal-green eyes instinctively recognized a fatal line of attack, and his body slipped past the incoming edge.
He was adapting.
He interpreted the first set of petals—the quickest and most lethal of them all, yet also the most predictable. It was as if it were born out of a single will, a single destiny; knowing that made it easy to react to as he dodged each and every petal of Blossoming Blade: Bloom.
Next, he interpreted the deadly petals that encircled him—annoying, constricting, seeking to bind his limbs in a suffocating cage. He understood its intent: control through confinement.
Feeling the tension in the air, he learned to quickly maneuver to another spot whenever it closed in and to never be stationary, slipping through the tight traps of Blossoming Blade: Thorn Basket.
Then came the heavy, thicker descending petals—rising and falling everywhere. After a few moments, feeling the changes of every spot it existed; he finally understood.
It was a sanctuary that crushed intruders beneath its weight. He smiled as he remembered how Earth's Saiyans loved gravity training rooms as he stepped through fields and fields of Blossoming Blade: Garden.
He then sliced through the dense, floating, overlapping petals. These petals were like floating shields of steel wind designed to smother attacks and deny advance.
Its intent was protection through sheer density. He recognized where the blades overlapped the most; was actually its weakest part as he burst through them with quick Ki blasts to part the foliage just enough to thread his body through the roof of Blossoming Blade: Canopy.
Then he felt the spiraling petals of the Blossoming Blade: Falling Petal—microscopic, erratic, drifting together like quiet tsunami toward his blind spots like vipers. Their intent was subversion and absolute patience. His Saiyan instincts felt the subtle, spiral air currents they rode, seeing their rather slow preparation; needing the other petal's combination to strike properly. Fortunately, he had already seen through some of the petals.
Finally, he deciphered the fragile, ghostly petals that looked paler than the others. These petals of Blossoming Blade: Wilt carried lingering echoes of a strike that had already passed. Its intent was deception, an embrace of the end. Instead of striking at the phantom, he ignored the dying petals entirely as he focused on the real threats.
His sharpened cognition analyzed the battlefield as if it were slow motion, watching the rhythmic cycle of the Blossoming Blade art. Step by step, his instincts processed the timing, adjusting his stance and reading the flow rather than trying to brute-force through it.
Then...
He closed his eyes.
His golden ki expanded outward like a domain of its own, allowing him to sidestep, dismantle, and redirect every strike brought upon him using his expanded ki sense.
As he learned and understood each technique, his mind absorbed the information contained within every petal.
Every blooming petal carried history.
From within his mind, he saw a faceless swordsman bound to their blade as they fought tirelessly, perfecting their craft as time sped up, training through countless seasons as time accelerated around them.
Patient.
Graceful.
Unwavering.
It was a sword that embraced the beauty of nature—not merely how flowers bloomed, but how they spread, protected, faded, and wilted, willingly making way for new life.
As he overcame each unique sword strike, the image of the swordsman grew clearer and clearer.
Slowly, step by step, Merun began weaving through the storm. As his movements refined, the deafening choir of steel striking steel gradually faded, softening into nothing more than the quiet flutter of petals.
As he worked his way through the tempest of red bloom, the ringing of Sanchin disappeared entirely.
The arena was absolutely quiet as petals danced around him.
His mind became perfectly clear.
And finally—
He recognized the swordsman.
Passing through the endless crimson blossoms, he looked upon the figure he had believed to be his greatest enemy.
But the sense of familiarity, affection, and gratitude he had felt toward her overwhelmed the nightmare illusion completely. He no longer saw an apocalyptic devourer of stars.
He saw her.
Her martial path.
Her memories.
Her lifelong desire to guide those who came after her.
In an instant, the rage and desperation vanished, replaced by regret and worry.
His teal-green eyes regained absolute clarity, no longer being driven by instinct.
He stopped right beneath the gigantic steel tree.
"...I see you."
Merun lowered his head into a deep bow.
"...Sorry."
Iaiashin said nothing.
Her eyes remained wide as she quietly processed what had just happened.
Slowly, she reached out.
Her fingers rested upon his golden hair.
Then gently ruffled it.
"You found me. You did beautifully." she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth.
He did it.
He truly did it.
Somehow, she knew, he understood her technique, her martial path was laid bare before his eyes and he found her through her martial arts!
After all, each martial artist, especially at her realm, were so incredibly unique. Seeing one understand and comprehend her techniques to the point where he could wade through it peacefully?
For some reason, she felt a bond with him as she felt... seen?
How odd...
Merun laughed awkwardly at the sudden, unfamiliar show of affection. But before he could offer his thanks, her touch on his head suddenly went limp as he heard Nanatsutaya clang on the ground.
His instincts reacted instantly, and he caught her as her body collapsed forward into his arms, her glowing Martial Heart finally settling into rest as her Martial Embodiment of the Steel Tree also disappeared.
She chuckled weakly against his shoulder.
"Haha... I just need a little rest." Her voice softened into a sleepy murmur.
"...Do not go upstairs until I wake..." Her eyes finally closed as she dozed off.
Holding his sleeping master quietly in his arms...
The golden flames surrounding Merun slowly flickered away as his hair and eyes returned to black.
Silence returned to the subterranean chamber.