You know, I never thought we’d be infiltrated. Of course, precautions were taken, but never in my wildest imagination did I expect to be tricked into bringing a spy into our establishment.
She paused, her black eyes locking with Asher’s purple ones. A piercing gaze.
Even that part where you claimed immunity to poisons? It was all part of the plan, wasn’t it? You were never immune. You simply said that to prevent us from using it on you—and it worked perfectly, I must say.
Number Six continued, but her words died as she waited for Asher’s reply.
After all, in battles, dialogues require both sides. Yet Asher remained silent, merely staring at her with a faint, composed smile. Her decryption of his plans now meant nothing. Besides, he rarely spoke during fights.
“Do you have nothing to say?” Number Six asked, tension thickening in the air.
Asher stayed silent, his stance unshaken. He came for their survival, not for debates. Number Five grinned, pleased to encounter a fellow who understood battles were won with steel, not words.
“Since you won’t speak,” Number Six declared, her presence shifting as though she’d unleash every weapon. But so had Number Four. His Astra energy surged, coating his body and amplifying his strength. Number Five and Six mirrored him instantly, their Astra energies surging to envelop them in blazing power.
Asher didn’t speak. He didn’t summon Astra energy. Instead, he adopted a stance, his rapier angled with calculated precision. His eyes sharpened, focus narrowing until only the three figures remained.
Tension tightened like a string at its breaking point. Pressure mounted until, like opposite magnetic poles, both sides collided with blistering speed and force, shattering the tension like fragile glass.
With catastrophic momentum, they crashed into each other. Four weapons clashed—three against one. Orange sparks erupted upon impact, scattering like miniature explosions across the battlefield.
Without missing a beat, they moved again, bodies dissolving into pure motion and force.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The rhythm of metal striking metal seemed almost musical, a violent hymn of war. They moved with terrifying speed and strength: three streaks of black versus one streak of purple. The black trio pressed relentlessly into the purple, yet it remained unshaken, disturbingly calm.
Wherever they moved, the terrain shattered like fragile paper. Craters formed with every shift in stance. The air screamed and collapsed as their blades sliced through it, echoes thundering across the battlefield.
Basic blade techniques unfolded with textbook perfection. Slashes met parries. Thrusts met deflections. Cleaves met blocks. They transitioned seamlessly, as though they’d invented every move themselves. Each strike was timed perfectly, sometimes merging two techniques into a single fluid motion.
The wind recoiled before detonating outward with every clash. Shockwaves tore backward with terrifying intensity, while tremors rippled through the hills as both sides clashed repeatedly.
Every strike carried the weight of their will. Every parry embodied desperate defiance. Sparks erupted like falling stars as steel collided violently.
A single misstep meant death. Yet neither side faltered. No pauses, no hesitations—fights for survival were just another day in their existence. Their battle carved through the air, leaving lingering trails of lethal intent.
The three attackers, augmented by Astra energy, moved in flawless unison. Their pincer formation was perfect, attacks executed with chilling precision. They never targeted the same spot simultaneously—one struck for the eyes, another for the heart, the third for the legs. A symphony of perfection.
But perfection met perfection: Asher.
Though the trio wielded Astra-boosted strength, Asher relied solely on his own physical power. He matched their speed with raw muscle, parrying or dodging each strike with elegant precision or agile grace.
Though attacked from three directions at once, Asher remained indifferent. The number of attackers or strikes didn’t matter. Only himself, his rapier, and Virelass—the extension of his soul. Every strike carried decades of combat experience.
Again, they collided like a raging river against an impenetrable dam. Pressure climbed until, in this war without end, only one outcome remained: a corpse on the ground.
Until that moment came, they would never stop. No mercy, no pause, no end.
"You know," Number Six began to speak, "I never thought that we would be infiltrated. Of course, precautions and measures were taken, but never in my greatest imagination did I think I would be fooled into bringing a spy into our establishment." She paused for a moment, her black eyes meeting Asher’s purple ones with a penetrating gaze.
"Even that part where you said you are immune to poisons and such, they were all part of the plan, weren’t they? You were never immune to poison and such. You simply said that to make sure we didn’t use it on you, and it worked perfectly, I must say." Number Six continued to speak, but at this moment, she stopped, as though waiting for Asher to reply.
After all, in battles, dialogues required both sides. Yet Asher didn’t speak. He merely stared at her with a faint smile and perfect composure. Her deciphering his plans now did nothing to aid her. Besides, he wasn’t much of a talker during battles.
"Don’t you have anything to say?" Number Six asked, as the air seemed to grow awkward with his silence.
Asher remained silent again without uttering a single word. He had made his stance clear, he was only here for their lives, not to exchange speeches and notes. Number Five, seeing the smile on Asher’s face, grinned. He was pleased that he had met a fellow man who understood that battles were fought with blades and bodies, not with the tongue.
"I see you aren’t going to speak, then," Number Six stated in finality, her presence changing as though, from this moment onwards, she would be moving with everything she had in her arsenal. But it wasn’t only her. Number Four’s presence thickened, his Astra energy flowing outward as it coated his body, augmenting his physical capabilities. Number Five and Number Six mirrored him almost instantly, their Astra energy surging outward as well, enveloping them like blazing auras of power.
Asher didn’t speak. He didn’t call upon his Astra energy. No, he simply entered a stance, his rapier positioned before him, the blade angled with calculated precision. His eyes sharpened, his focus narrowing until the entire world seemed to shrink, leaving only the three figures standing before him.
Tension tightened like a string stretched to its absolute limit as pressure mounted in the air. Then, like opposite poles of a magnet violently drawn together, both sides immediately tore toward each other with blistering speed and overwhelming force, the tension shattering like fragile glass.
With calamitous momentum, both sides collided into one another, four separate weapons clashing at once, three crashing against one. Orange sparks of light burst outward upon collision like miniature explosions, scattering across the battlefield. Without missing a single beat, they moved again, their bodies dissolving into nothing but pure motion and force.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The rhythm of metal striking metal seemed almost musical, forming a violent hymn of war. They moved with terrifying speed and strength, one side consisting of three streaks of black while the other was a single streak of purple. The three streaks tore relentlessly into the purple streak with crushing force and relentless pressure, yet the purple streak remained utterly undeterred, almost disturbingly calm.
Wherever they moved, the terrain shattered like fragile paper. The earth burst apart under the force of their footsteps and momentum, craters forming with every shift in stance. The air screamed and collapsed whenever their weapons sliced through it, the sound echoing like thunder across the battlefield.
Basic blade and weapon techniques erupted with textbook perfection. Slashes met parries. Thrusts met deflections. Cleaves met firm blocks. They transitioned between techniques with fluid mastery, as though they themselves were the creators of every move they executed. Each technique was unleashed at the perfect moment, sometimes even merging two techniques together into a single seamless motion with outrageous ease.
The wind seemed to recoil before detonating outward with every collision and impact. Shockwaves tore backward with frightening intensity, while tremors rippled through the hills and mountains nearby as both sides clashed repeatedly.
Every strike carried the crushing weight of their will. Every parry embodied the desperate defiance of survival. Sparks erupted like falling stars as steel collided violently against steel.
A single missed step would mean death. Yet neither side slowed. Neither side paused nor hesitated, as though fighting with their lives on the line was merely another ordinary day in their existence. Their battle carved through the air itself, leaving behind lingering trails of killing intent.
The three attackers were augmented by their Astra energy, their movements perfectly synchronized. Their pincer formation was flawless, their attacks executed with chilling precision. They moved as one, never obstructing each other, as though they shared a single mind, a single hand, and a single body.
They never targeted the same location simultaneously. One struck for the eyes, another for the heart, while the third aimed for the legs. Their coordination screamed absolute perfection.
But for all their perfection and flawless coordination, they had met an even more flawless being; Asher.
Although the three attacked with Astra augmentation, Asher had no need for it. He met every attack with pure physical strength. He matched their speed with nothing but the power of his own muscles. Every strike that came toward him was either parried with elegant precision or dodged with the swift grace of an agile predator.
Although attacks rained down upon him from three different directions simultaneously, to Asher it made no difference. The number of attacks did not matter. The number of attackers did not matter.
All that mattered was himself and his rapier, Virelass. And he wielded that rapier not merely as a weapon, but as an extension of his very soul, each strike carrying the accumulated experience of countless battles.
With another rumbling clash, both sides collided again like a raging river crashing against an unyielding dam, neither side willing to take even a single step backward.
Pressure climbed with every passing moment, killing intent flooding the air and sky alike. Trees were torn from their roots by the sheer force radiating from the battlefield, while spiderweb-like cracks snaked violently through the earth beneath their feet.
This was not a battle that could simply end because they wished it to, no, they could only fight until one side died.
And until that moment arrived, they would remain in motion, attacks tearing outward endlessly, blades flashing without pause. They would fight until exhaustion claimed their bodies, until blood stained the earth, until one of them collapsed lifeless upon the ground.
Until a corpse appeared.
Until that inevitable moment arrived, this battle would continue without mercy, without pause, and without end.
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