The wind brushed against me as I stood across from Ren. This time, I'd disconnected our link—no shared senses, no synced thoughts. Just me. Him. And the blade.
I stepped in, swinging my sword to the left. My feet pivoted sharply, redirecting my stance. Ren caught the attack cleanly, parrying with ease and responding with a flurry of strikes.
Each one came faster. Harder.
Still, I felt it—my sorrow wasn't drowning me. It was flowing with me. For the first time, my body felt light. My soul wasn't being pulled in opposite directions. I was in balance.
My strength rose slightly. Just enough.
And in that clarity, I whispered the chant in my heart.
"First Art: Sorrow's Dance."
My blade grew lighter. So did my movements. Every step felt like a memory in motion. With a single swing, I sent Ren flying several meters back. He landed and instantly switched his footwork.
His stance—sharper. Tighter. It wasn't the same form anymore. Each attack he launched felt heavy enough to end the fight.
His growth was terrifying.
And then, his sword flickered.
He was faster. Too fast.
He stabbed straight forward.
Just before it connected, I kicked off the ground and leapt, flipping over him. My feet connected with the bark of a tree behind him, and I pushed forward mid-air. My blade came down, cutting the wind clean.
Right before our blades could meet again—
A familiar, menacing laugh cut through the air, making me freeze.
"Night, what do you think you're doing without me?"
My body shuddered.
"Master!!!"
---
Pain exploded in my skull.
Sylvia sat casually on my back like I was a cushion.
"I feel so defeated…" I groaned. "How do you still have this much stamina?"
She didn't even break a sweat. Not one.
I glanced to the side. A whole pile of shattered wooden swords lay there—mine. She broke every single one. They cracked like they were made of glass.
I sighed, then looked up at her.
"…Sylvia."
She tilted her head.
"When we first met, I didn't know anything about you. Even now, I still don't."
She didn't respond.
"I want to know. Who are you… really?"
Her expression shifted for a moment—subtle, but it was there.
A pause.
Then, with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, she said,
"…You're not ready for that answer yet, Night."
I frowned, but said nothing. Something about her... felt both broken and whole at once. Just like me.
But I would wait.
Because one day, I'd be strong enough—not just to protect, not just to destroy—but to understand the people standing beside me.
And maybe, just maybe, understand myself too.