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The Asura Kingdom lay in the northern reaches of the Central Continent. Encircled by the Red Dragon Mountains, winter winds sweeping in from the sea climbed the terrain, bringing relentless snowfall.
Thus, the buildings all had steeply pitched roofs—designed to shed melting snow.
The classroom building was the second tallest structure in the Boreas estate.
In the misty rain, its eaves loomed faintly.
It wasn't winter; no snow fell.
Yet the rainwater should've cascaded freely down the roof tiles.
But for months now—
It had met an obstacle.
At the ridge of the roof, beside a skylight:
Rainwater flowed around a pair of bare feet as it diverted along the tiles.
"One hundred ninety-seven!"
Within the curtain of rain, veiled by morning fog—
A blade cut through the downpour.
This was someone's "skip-class" hideout.
"Two hundred!"
The sword halted.
Allen exhaled slowly, his breath swallowed by the rain—smothered in the damp air around him.
Sheathing his blade, he gazed down at the fog-shrouded city below.
The Boreas estate stood atop Roa's highest hill. From this vantage point, the entire city unfolded beneath him.
Through the mist, streets crisscrossed like arteries, dotted with ant-like figures and toy-sized carriages moving to and fro.
Roa's "pulse" was laid bare before his eyes.
Visible even through the rain.
Four months ago, Allen had stumbled upon this perch—perfect for overlooking the city.
Since then, it had become his refuge during "leave requests."
The view helped him grasp that elusive "domination" feeling—to "correct" his Sword Heart.
His gaze shifted toward the estate's opposite end.
Even through the downpour, a towering shadow pierced the gloom.
Roa's tallest spire.
Sauros' favorite spot for surveying his domain.
When reading the novels, Allen hadn't grasped the appeal.
Now, standing here, he understood.
It wasn't the height Sauros loved—
But the thrill of controlling Fittoa itself.
Squinting, Allen tilted his head northwest, toward the sky.
Only clouds and rain met his eyes.
Yet, after four months of clear-day observations, his mind filled in the blank:
The spatial rift left by Teleportation magic.
A black-red orb wrapped in mana ribbons.
So distant it verged on invisible—unless you knew where to look.
But Allen had spotted it immediately that first day.
He was hypersensitive to that landmark.
It had reminded him of the novel's scene where Rudy climbs the tower, interrupting Sauros' "private time" with Riel. Back then, his focus had been on the catgirl's reactions, making him miss the subsequent plot point.
Only upon seeing the rift himself did he recall:
Sauros would later call Rudy over to witness the anomaly—right outside that very tower's window.
And mention noticing the orb years prior.
That event was set the day after Eris' tenth birthday.
Currently, Eris was nine.
Winter would pass. Spring would come.
Then her tenth birthday.
Two years later—Rudy's tenth birthday.
Again, the day after—the orb would "activate."
"Time flies... It's already been half a year at Boreas. Two years and nine months till the Displacement..."
He studied his blade, feeling the humid air cling to his skin.
Then—
Removed his glasses.
Tucked them away.
Released his control over the Flow secret technique.
Within seconds, rain soaked through his hair and clothes.
Coolness followed—
Quelling the restlessness in his chest.
His experiment—shifting his Sword Heart from "Follow desire, align action" to "Dominate, control"—
Had failed.
These four months had restored his Silent Sword to its peak.
Yet that "barrier" before Light Sword—paper-thin yet insurmountable—remained.
This Sword Heart didn't suit him.
Or perhaps Sword Hearts simply couldn't be changed at will. By Ghislaine's standards, even attempting such a shift was "remarkable."
In her view, his Silent Sword's recovery was less about the new Sword Heart and more about four months of mimicking her "empty swings" to refine fundamentals.
Pushing wet hair back, Allen's sharp gaze—absent for years—returned.
Internalizing the mantra:
"Follow desire, align action."
Wrist lifted—
The blade trembled!
His soaked sleeve jumped once against his arm!
The rain continued falling, seemingly undisturbed.
But in Allen's pupils—
A white line faded in the downpour.
Still just the Silent Sword at its peak.
Then—
CRASH!
The skylight beside him burst open!
A head of paint-red hair vaulted onto the roof!
Allen's sharp eyes nearly crossed as he teleported to the eaves below via Silent Sword speed—
—just as Eris stuck the landing.
Her vibrant hair darkened to wine-red under the rain's weight.
Six months had left little mark on her—barely any height gain.
But her expression had mellowed.
No longer the perpetual (╯°□°)╯ scowl.
Calmly, she raised a hand—
Chopped horizontally through the rain!
A pale streak parted the droplets.
A white-tailed fish piercing the morning's watery curtain.
Hand withdrawn.
Rain kept falling.
A seemingly mundane motion.
Then—
Eris' head snapped up!
Locking onto Allen with laser focus!
He met her stare, eyebrows lifting in surprise.
"Not bad... Using rain perception to grasp the Water God style's essence? Astonishing instinct. And—"
"Most of the bloodlust is gone. Blending Water God concepts into Sword God techniques... Rapid progress. Impressive."
Eris' face remained neutral.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Right on cue—
Her demeanor melted in the humid air.
Color flooded back, brightening even the dreary rain.
The familiar, exuberant voice rang out:
"See?! Amazing, right, Allen?!"
Arms crossed, chin raised—the very picture of smugness.
Every gesture, every twitch of her (╭ರ_•́) pout screamed:
Praise Eris!
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