Chapter 10: Swordsmanship

  “You know, Elian… How about giving up the sword?”

  Will’s voice was steady, almost bored, as he continued to observe me. He didn’t even bother hiding his disappointment.

  “You simply have no talent. Just give me what you promised, and let’s be done with it.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “You don’t need to fight. You’ve already proven how valuable you are as a bcksmith and by fortifying our defenses. To be honest, I don’t understand you.”

  He sighed, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he continued. “Ask almost anyone in the camp, they would kill to have your position. More food rations, safety, no need to risk their neck outside.” He scoffed. “Especially now. Everyone’s going crazy. Two students literally ran away from the base, and some hunters refuse to step outside anymore.”

  His words hung heavy in the air, but I kept my focus.

  The only sound in the room was the steady whistle of my sword slicing through the air, again and again, as I continued my training.

  Will watched in silence for a moment before speaking again, this time his voice carrying a rare hint of frustration.

  “You’ve trained so much… yet you still barely understand how to use a sword.”

  And then, suddenly…

  “Finally, I got it!”

  Will blinked. “What?”

  I turned to him, grinning like an idiot. “Thanks, Will! I finally understand the foundation of swordsmanship. Let’s stop for today.” Without waiting for a response, I spun around and rushed out the door.

  “Wait! Were you even listening to me?!” Will’s voice echoed behind me, but I was already gone.

  I practically burst into my room, grinning from ear to ear.

  My genius pn? Creating my own swordsmanship.

  Sounds insane, right? Well, yeah, it absolutely was. But in the past few days, I had come to a realization—

  Creation isn’t just about forging solids objects. It can be anything.

  A new tactic, a new recipe, a new strategy, a new form of art. And if that was true… why not a new sword style?

  For the past five days, I had done everything I could to turn this idea into reality. And I had failed. Over and over again.

  But this time… this time, I could feel it. This time, it would work.

  Or at least, it needed to. Because if I failed now… I would not only have to abandon my dream, but I’d also owe Will three days’ worth of food.

  That was not an option.

  I took a deep breath and opened my status screen.

  [Status]

  Name: Elian

  Level: 13

  Titles: [Divine Mortal]

  Domain: Creation

  Achievements: [First Step in Creation] [The Phoenix’s First Step] [Giant Syer]

  Attributes:

  Energy: 140/140

  Agility: 26

  Strength: 18

  Endurance: 20

  Intelligence: 28

  Creativity: 40

  Luck: 10

  [Free Points: 0]

  Ability: [Creation I]: 88%

  Sub Ability: [Phoenix I]: 99%

  Divinity:

  Divine Essence: 5

  Faith Points: 0

  [Mission]

  More Details Accessible at Higher Levels

  [End status]

  The style I had envisioned relied heavily on speed.

  That’s why I had invested most of my points into Agility, I could compensate for raw strength with my sub-ability. Creativity was crucial, as this entire technique was something I was designing from scratch. Endurance was necessary to keep up the pace, and for Intelligence? I had my title boosting it already, so I left it minimal.

  Two weeks of practice had sharpened my control over weapon materialization. The time it took to create a sword had drastically decreased. But it wasn’t enough.

  There was one technique in particur that I needed to perfect, I named it:

  Phantom Edge.

  I took my stance in front of an open door and summoned a sword in my right hand. The bde appeared almost instantly, a skill I had refined through sheer repetition and failure. It had taken me until just two days ago to reach this level of speed.

  But this technique required more than speed. It required absolute precision.

  The problem? Timing.

  I positioned myself carefully, taking a deep breath. My goal was simple, ssh through the door without the sword actually touching it.

  I exhaled. Then, I moved.

  My sword sshed forward, the motion feeling more natural than ever before. But then—

  Cng!

  Damn it!

  The sword disappeared half a second too te, clipping the door before vanishing. Too slow.

  I gritted my teeth and summoned another bde.

  Again.

  I steadied my breathing. Inhale. Exhale.

  I needed to feel it. My arm. The weight of the sword. The exact moment of impact. Everything needed to align perfectly.

  I reset my stance.

  This time, it had to work.

  I sshed again.

  And at the exact right moment, I deactivated my ability.

  The bde vanished mid-swing, and before my hand had even fully passed through, I reactivated it again.

  “Ha… haha… hahaha… I did it!”

  The sword reappeared seamlessly in my grip.

  It worked. IT WORKED!

  I let out a triumphant ugh, my chest heaving from the rush of adrenaline.

  This is it. This is Phantom Edge.

  By materializing and dematerializing my weapon at precise moments, I could make my attacks seem intangible, as if my sword was passing straight through obstacles.

  It was fast. Unpredictable. Deadly.

  But… it wasn’t perfect. Not yet.

  I clenched my fists.

  It’s too slow.

  To make this technique truly effective, it needed to be instantaneous, so fast that my opponent wouldn’t even realize what happened.

  And if I could master that?

  Then my swordsmanship wouldn’t just be unique, it would be unstoppable

  Though, I needed to refine it. I had another idea, one that I should be able to apply right now.

  I call it:

  Bzing Surge.

  This one would be significantly harder than Phantom Edge. Unlike my previous technique, this relied almost entirely on my sub-ability. I could already channel fire along my bde, but this was different. Instead of simply coating the weapon in fmes, I needed to concentrate all of that power into a single, precise point, a razor-thin point on the edge capable of sheer devastation.

  This technique was inspired by Lay’s ability. In theory, her power was far more refined than mine, but I had been adapting to it over time. The more proficient she became, the more I could feel my own control improving. Of course, I wasn’t anywhere near her level, but at least I had reached a point where I could attempt something like this.

  To be honest? This idea was insane.

  But so was Phantom Edge, and I had made it work.

  I took a deep breath, my mind fshing back to the moment when I nearly died fighting the wolf. Back then, I had survived by concentrating my sub-ability into a single point and detonating it. This technique was built on that exact principle.

  The goal? A controlled explosion.

  I envisioned the fire energy surging towards the edge of my bde. Slowly. Steadily. The heat coiled through the weapon like a living entity, responding to my will. My breathing slowed as I guided it towards the precise point of release.

  And then—

  BOOM!

  “AGH—!”

  A searing bst erupted in my face, sending me stumbling backward. My vision blurred for a moment, my ears ringing. Goddamn, that hurt!

  As the pain coursed through my body, I instinctively reached for my ability, healing myself just enough to function.

  But despite the stinging burns on my hands, despite the fact that my own damn technique had just blown up in my face…

  I was grinning.

  Because this time, it had exploded exactly where I wanted it to.

  It’s possible.

  Now, all I had to do was control it. Reduce the size. Refine the timing. If I could master this technique, I would have a move capable of dealing devastating damage against monsters, something Phantom Edge wouldn’t be as effective for.

  One technique more useful to confuse and disorient human opponents.

  One technique to obliterate monsters.

  I exhaled slowly, wincing as the st of the burns faded from my skin.

  This is going to work.

  …But first, more training.

  I let out a long, exhausted sigh and rubbed my temples.

  I really don’t want to eat another explosion in the face… It's one of the most painful experience I went trough.

  But I had no choice.

  My swordsmanship, my creation, was going to be swift, deceptive, and filled with calcuted traps. Every movement would be a feint, every attack a misdirection. The true strike would only come when it was too te to react.

  This was my path.

  No one else’s.

  And if I had to suffer a few more burns to master it?

  Well.

  I could live with that.

  I just hoped I wouldn’t die in the process.