(Ha... how amusing.)
This sea of flowers was born from his belief, and its beauty from his persistence.
It was the future and hope Qingyi had given him—set free.
Because now, he already carried his own future and hope.
Zane lifted his gaze.
The towering monster that had once loomed before him was gone. Along with the sea of light, the boundless darkness had also vanished.
But... the battle wasn't over yet.
As the points of light rose into the sky, Zane's eyes shifted to a patch of flowers not far away—where a mass of pitch-black substance writhed.
It seemed to be in pain, struggling faintly. Wherever it moved, the white flowers withered, the decay spreading outward from its position like a stain.
The past had departed.
But the pain remained.
Above, the black mist was held back by the sea of light.
But the light would fade in time, and the mist would fall again. Darkness would return.
Zane reached to his side. The white flowers swayed, offering up petal after petal into his waiting hand.
The petals streamed toward him, gathering into the rough shape of an object—a wooden hilt.
The petals melted into it, and the hilt lengthened.
A guard took shape.
Then a blade.
By the time the last petal dissolved, a long wooden sword—four fingers wide—rested in his grip. It had no sharp edge, its surface rough like the handiwork of an amateur, simple and unadorned.
Zane glanced toward the black mass, which had ceased struggling and seemed to be catching its breath. He spoke quietly:
"When I was a kid, I had a simple dream—to become a knight in shining armor, slay evil dragons, and save the world."
He raised the wooden sword, ran his other hand over it twice, and smiled faintly.
This was the first beauty he had ever known.
"I used to pester my father for a wooden sword of my own. He told me the sword had always been there—hidden inside the wood, just waiting for me to take it out.
"I didn't understand what he meant and kept pestering him. My mother scolded him for it, and he finally made me a wooden sword."
Zane's gaze lifted. There was no hostility in his eyes, only a soft smile, as if sharing a casual memory with the monster.
"That same day, I wrecked the crops in the fields. Nobody yelled—just told me to practice somewhere else next time. My father said I was amazing, and that I'd grow up to be a great hero."
"A boy in his youth... yet to know sorrow."
"Later, that sword ended up lost somewhere. I never bothered to look for it, and it faded from memory."
"But now, it's no longer buried in dust. It's back in the light."
He stared intently at the monster, as if this crude wooden sword was the most important weapon in the world.
The sea of flowers was still being poisoned by the monster's breath. The withering had already reached his feet.
Zane lowered his gaze and said softly:
"Fire."
In an instant, flames sprang up, racing across the white blossoms—not just one, but all of them.
At his word, they ignited completely, scarlet fire billowing upward as the flowers blazed defiantly.
As the petals burned away, the sea of flowers became a sea of fire, sweeping over everything, turning the world into a roaring furnace.
But it didn't last long. The flames soon receded, shrinking until they vanished entirely—leaving no ash, no smoke, not even the faintest trace.
The black mist above was gone.
And the burning sea below no longer existed.
Zane stepped forward, watching as the black mass ahead began to rise, slowly shaping itself into a humanoid figure.
A small, satisfied smile touched his lips.
"Funny thing—I never knew how to use a sword as a kid. Truth is, I never really did... not until I met my master. She taught me a lot."
"Now, everything's gone. The world's empty—just the two of us left. I'm not strong, and you're not weak. Sounds like a fair duel to me."
He said it plainly, then raised his arm, gripping the wooden sword tightly and leveling its point at the humanoid shape before him.
"When I was young, I believed I could cut down a dragon. As the years passed, I let go of that belief."
"But now..."
"I think I still can."
A faint smile curved his lips. His black hair, tinged with gold, drifted in the air; his ice-clear eyes burned with focus.
"Come on. Let's find out."
The pitch-black monster seemed taken aback by the turn of events, but it didn't hesitate. It stood tall, arms spread into a battle stance, a long sword forming in its hands.
Failure?
Nothing was decided yet...
The next moment, Zane moved.
No more waiting, no more letting the enemy act first—Qingyi had taught him to seize the initiative.
He lunged, his body launching forward in a blur, one hand pressing the wooden sword ahead to close the distance quickly.
When he reached the monster, he stopped dead and swung, aiming to cleave it clean in two.
The black monster instinctively raised its weapon, angling its sword to block the blow.
But in that instant, Zane twisted, shifting his weight, his strike changing mid-motion into a sharp horizontal slash from the opposite side.
The monster reacted with startling speed, ducking low at the last possible moment. Its fluid body bent and slipped away in an unnatural motion.
The swing cut through empty air—but Zane didn't pause. He pulled his sword back and, in the same breath, lifted his leg into a sharp, driving kick.
This time, the monster couldn't dodge in time. Its liquid-like body parted, opening a wide gap to let the blow pass harmlessly through—but the maneuver left it stiff for a heartbeat.
Zane caught the hesitation instantly.
It seemed that apart from this wooden sword, nothing could truly harm it. But it could still be pressured, forced into openings.
Right now, shrunken as it was, it couldn't control itself perfectly. It had dodged—but was left unable to follow up.
That opening was a weakness.
One he had left there on purpose.
The thought flashed through his mind in an instant. Zane pulled his leg back, tossing the sword lightly upward. His body spun with the recoil of the motion, his hand catching the hilt in a reverse grip.
In the next second, the blade swept down in a fierce diagonal slash.
...