The words faded and instantly i forget them.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
Her voice cut through the air like a sharpened oath.
"Who are you?"
Her sword kissed my throat, but her eyes held more danger than her blade. That same presence from before—divine and corrupted—pushed against my chest like invisible gravity.
I didn't answer.
Not because I had no name.
But because I didn't know who I was supposed to be anymore.
So I smiled. Even tired. Even broken.
And then she moved.
---
A blade like lightning. A step like wind. Her strike came too fast.
I ducked—barely. My ribs caught her foot mid-spin, and pain erupted through my body. I slammed against the sand, blood in my mouth.
She didn't let up.
Her blade swung again. I blocked with the Vampire Cleaver, then struck low with the Forgotten King's Blade. She avoided both. Her motion was flawless. Her breath never faltered.
She wasn't fighting to win.
She was fighting to judge me.
Every swing of her sword asked a question.
And every answer I gave was wrong.
---
[Frenzy has been activated.]
Pain blurred. Movement sharpened.
I rose and met her again. Faster now. Harder.
My blades became extensions of instinct. My cloak lashed from behind—alive with will.
Still, she struck through it all. Her sword danced like it remembered things I hadn't lived.
She sliced my shoulder—clean.
I bled, grinned, and struck back.
Our blades clashed in the middle of a misted battlefield, ocean to one side, stone walls behind. The moon above watched in silence, as if it, too, waited for me to fall.
[Divine Light]
The light surged into me .My body strengthened, but not enough.
She caught my arm and twisted. My dagger flew.
She slashed across my chest.
I dropped to one knee.
She stood above me.
Eyes cold.
Blade raised.
And then I felt it—that familiar emptiness.
The silence that crept in after every loss.
The silence that had followed me since the first time I watched someone die.
The silence that came after I realized no one ever came back.
I clenched my teeth.
I was going to lose.
I would die here.
Alone.
Again.
But something in me… didn't fear it.
I remembered something.
A movement. A breath.
A rhythm I thought I'd buried.
The one thing I'd abandoned because it hurt too much to hold onto.
Sorrow Dance.
It was never about gaining power through pain.
It wasn't a trade.
It was a truth.
Maybe that's what sylvia wanted to teach me.
Not drowning in sorrow. But dancing with it.
Letting it bloom.
---
I stood.
My feet shifted—not fast, not aggressive, but aligned.
My cloak moved differently—less wild, more in sync.
My cleaver raised—not high, not shaking—but with grace.
I looked into her eyes.
She saw it.
And for the first time—
She stepped back.
[Sorrow Dance — Full Bloom]
She struck.
I stepped sideways—half a breath sooner than her blade.
I moved between her swings, not dodging, but swaying.
I struck—not with force, but with flow. The cleaver scratched her cheek. Her eyes widened.
I didn't push for the next hit.
I let it come to me.
She came again, faster now—angry, confused.
My blades parried hers softly, like brushing hair from a face.
I was bleeding.
I was breaking.
But I was no longer resisting it.
I accepted every pain, every loss, every moment. I let it move me.
And in that rhythm—
I found her weakness.
---
She swung high. I twisted.
The Forgotten King's Blade slashed across her back.
She cried out—not in agony, but disbelief.
I didn't press her.
She turned, wide-eyed, swinging again. A thousand strikes. Each more frantic. More human.
I caught her final slash with my cleaver.
Locked eyes with her.
And stepped forward.
My blade passed her guard—
Carved down her side—
And dropped her to one knee.
She looked up at me.
Breathing hard.
Shaking.
Eyes shimmering with something like awe.
"…So that's what it was," she whispered.
I didn't reply.
My body was done.
My limbs trembled.
Blood ran down my spine.
Even my cloak sagged.
But I was still standing.
---
Her sword vanished.
She lowered her head.
And whispered one final truth:
"You didn't win with strength.
You danced with sorrow… and made it your blade."
I blinked once.
The moon shattered above us.
Or maybe that was just my vision going black.
The Gate trembled.
The ocean whispered.
The power faded out.
I dropped my blades—both of them—into the sand.
And then I collapsed.