Chapter Eight – The Fractured Awakening
The arena was silent—eerily silent. Dust swirled in the air, lit by the pulsing glow from Jesse's fractured sword. The once dull, battered blade now shone with a faint jade brilliance, the crack burning like molten veins of fire.
The disciples in the stands forgot to breathe. For years, that sword had been nothing but a joke, a piece of scrap metal clung to by an orphan too stubborn to let go. Yet now, before their eyes, it awakened.
Ken Miles's pupils shrank. He could feel it—the aura spilling from the fracture wasn't mere qi. It was something older, heavier, suffocating in its depth.
"That… that's impossible!" Ken snarled, his iron fangs of qi thrashing violently around his fists. "A broken blade can't defy me!"
Jesse raised the sword. His hands shook, his body bruised and bleeding, yet his eyes remained cold, calm, unwavering. He didn't understand what the sword was, not fully—but in its faint whispers, he felt a resonance.
Forward… forward… forward…
The voice was not his own, but it matched the rhythm of his soul.
Ken roared, fury boiling in his veins. "Then let's see if your glowing toy can stop me!"
He lunged, both fists swinging with the Iron Fang Breaker. The phantom fangs screeched, eager to tear flesh and bone apart.
Jesse stepped forward. The fractured sword moved.
A faint arc of jade light sliced outward, meeting Ken's strike.
BOOM!
The collision thundered, the arena trembling like it might collapse. Spectral iron shattered on impact, dispersing into nothingness. Ken staggered back several steps, his face paling with disbelief.
"No… how could it—"
Before he could finish, Jesse's blade moved again. The jade fracture pulsed, releasing a second arc, sharper, faster. Ken twisted aside, but the edge grazed his shoulder, cutting through his qi defense as though it were paper. Blood splattered onto the stone.
Gasps rippled across the crowd.
"He… he wounded Ken Miles!"
"That can't be real! That broken sword—what is it?!"
The elders in the high seats exchanged looks. Elder Morris's lips curled into a rare smile. "Interesting. Very interesting. That sword… it is no mere relic. It remembers."
Another elder frowned. "Dangerous. If the boy can truly master it, he will upset the balance of the sect."
Ken's pride burned hotter than his wound. He had always stood untouchable, always stood above the others, basking in adoration and Daisy's distant glances. Now, in front of everyone, Jesse had stripped that image bare.
"YOU!" His voice cracked with rage. "I'll kill you! I don't care if I have to burn my life to ash!"
His qi surged recklessly, the iron fangs around his fists multiplying, thickening, condensing into monstrous jaws. The ground cracked under the sheer weight of his aura.
Jesse's body trembled. His vision blurred, his breath ragged. The fractured sword pulsed in his grip, begging for more qi, more blood, more of his life.
He knew. If he poured everything into this next strike, he might fall unconscious, or worse. But if he didn't—Ken would kill him here.
The choice wasn't really a choice. Jesse had only ever had one path.
Forward.
Ken descended like a falling mountain, his fists wreathed in spectral jaws large enough to swallow Jesse whole. The audience leaned forward, eyes wide, hearts hammering.
Jesse tightened his grip, lifted the fractured sword, and roared—
"VOID BREAK!"
The jade fracture exploded with light. The broken blade extended in that moment, not fully whole, but carrying the illusion of perfection. A gleaming arc of jade energy erupted outward, cleaving the arena floor as though splitting the heavens.
Ken's iron jaws met it head-on.
CRAAAAACK!
The phantom jaws shattered into shards of qi. The backlash slammed into Ken's body, flinging him across the arena like a ragdoll. He crashed into the stone wall, blood spraying from his mouth. His proud aura collapsed, leaving him slumped and trembling, barely conscious.
Silence gripped the sect.
Jesse stood in the center, chest heaving, sword trembling in his grasp. The jade light dimmed, flickering back into a dull crack, its brief awakening fading into stillness. His knees nearly buckled, but he forced himself upright.
Ken coughed blood, his glare weak but venomous. "You… orphan… this isn't over. I'll… I'll…" His voice broke, his pride crushed.
The elder overseeing the match raised his hand, his voice cutting through the stillness.
"Victor—Jesse Jordan!"
The crowd erupted. Cheers, disbelief, anger, awe—every voice mingled into chaos.
But through it all, Jesse stood silently, cold eyes sweeping over the audience. For the first time, whispers turned in his favor.
"Jesse Jordan…"
"He defeated Ken Miles with a broken sword…"
"No… not broken. That sword—what is it really?"
In the stands, Daisy Mellon's lips curved faintly. She said nothing, but her eyes softened, and in them was the faintest spark of warmth.
Ken noticed even in his battered haze. Hatred twisted deeper into his heart, festering.
Jesse turned and walked off the arena floor, his grip on the fractured sword tightening as he heard it whisper faintly again—
Forward… Forward… Seek the void…