Kairo's eyes narrowed, fury replacing every ounce of restraint.
The air around him pulsed—tightened—as if the atmosphere itself feared what was coming.
Each weapon floating behind him responded to his breath, aligning in perfect synchronization, not like tools… but like limbs.
They weren't just weapons.
They were extensions of his will.
For so long, he'd fought with only his sword.
To his enemies, he was a swordsman—nothing more.
But they were wrong.
Kairo hadn't just been taught the sword.
He had been trained to master every weapon.
Staff, halberd, blade, whip, bow, sickle…
To learn their weight. Their rhythm. Their language.
To use each one like it had been part of his body since birth.
And among them all, the one weapon where his Veil energy resonated beyond limit—
The spear.
The surge in his aura was immediate.
Power bloomed through his veins, surging violently. His body, already a fortress of trained precision, snapped into a new threshold.
His Veil had reached 230% resonance, something believed impossible for a human. His grip tightened around the obsidian spear, and for the first time—
He stopped holding back.
Then he moved.
Or rather—
They both did.
A snap of thunder cracked the sky as the White Howl vanished in a blur of pure velocity.
His fist struck Kairo's jaw with a clean, brutal hook—laced with friction and Veil lightning, enough force to fracture steel.
But Kairo didn't move.
Not an inch.
Only a gust of wind escaped his lungs.
He looked back at the boy.
And with a flick of the wrist—
Twenty-five strikes.
In less than a blink, Kairo's spear blurred.
Each stab, slash, and flick was aimed with terrifying purpose, striking along vital points: arteries, nerves, pressure nodes, reflex triggers.
The White Howl's body spasmed. Veil lightning crackled in protest, his limbs momentarily stuttering.
Before he could recover—
Kairo drove his spear into the ground, spinning on it with blinding momentum.
A perfectly-timed pivot.
And then—
Bang.
A side-kick smashed into the White Howl's ribs, folding his body mid-air.
Crackling thunder burst from his impact point as his body was sent flying like a bullet, tearing through stone and dust.
The ground beneath them trembled.
And Kairo?
Still standing.
Eyes sharp.
Breath calm.
The storm was far from over.
Dust danced in the air.
Cracked earth. Smashed stone. Floating fragments of destroyed weapons shimmered like fallen stars around them.
The White Howl slid back across the rubble, his boots skidding through shattered debris until he came to a harsh stop. His breath was ragged, lightning still flaring from his skin in uncontrolled bursts.
That last sequence… it had hurt.
He lifted his gaze, eyes sharp beneath his messy white bangs.
"…You ain't just a damn swordman huh?" he muttered, voice hoarse.
Across the field, Kairo pulled the embedded spear from the ground with a low metallic hiss. His movements remained composed—measured. But even now, subtle tremors in his fingers betrayed the impact of the earlier strikes. A faint line of blood ran down his cheek.
"I was taught to end my enemies, no matter the weapon." Kairo said quietly. "But you…"
He raised his spear, its tip glowing faintly.
"You're strong..."
The White Howl cracked his neck. "Guess that's just how i was always described as."
A sudden gust blew between them—carrying heat from thunder and cold from steel.
Both fighters stepped forward.
One slow.
One like lightning.
Then, without a signal—they clashed again.
This time, the fight wasn't silent.
Every step they took cracked the battlefield.
Every strike created shockwaves.
Spear met fist. Veil energy collided with raw spirit.
Their movements blurred into flashes, only readable by the highest-tiered observers.
The White Howl ducked low, dragging electricity along the ground, launching into an uppercut that roared with thunder.
Kairo twisted mid-air, redirecting his body with a spear thrust that narrowly missed the boy's heart—but sliced clean through his aura guard.
Flesh burned. Metal screamed.
Neither yielded.
Time blurred.
But eventually—
They both stopped.
Chest to chest.
Heavy breath meeting heavy breath.
Kairo's spear was an inch from the White Howl's throat.
The White Howl's fist was pressed against Kairo's ribcage, already starting to glow with overcharged Veil lightning.
A single move. A single breath. And one of them would fall.
But neither moved.
Their eyes met.
And in that second—
Not as enemies.
But as warriors—
They both understood:
This fight wouldn't be won with a technique.
It would be won with resolve.