The familiar translucent system window materialized before Ashan's eyes, hovering silently in midair.
—------------------------------------
Congratulations..
You have successfully defeated the Guardian of the Dungeon
Reward Obtained:
<>Transformation Jutsu
Allows the user to freely shapeshift and alter their physical form
Variants Unlocked:
- Sexy Jutsu
- Reverse Harem Jutsu
- Harem Jutsu
—------------------------------------
Ashan froze.
His eyes lingered on the reward panel for a full three seconds before his expression cracked.
"…Huh?"
His mouth opened slightly as he raised both hands to his head, pressing his fingers against his temples as if the system itself had just insulted him.
'I appreciate the transformation technique,' he thought flatly. 'But what the hell are those variants?'
Sexy jutsu? Reverse harem? Harem?
'What am I supposed to do with those?' he groaned internally. 'Cause nosebleeds? Embarrass myself? Who exactly am I meant to use this on?'
For a brief moment, he genuinely considered whether the system was mocking him.
Watching the scene, Silas stiffened in his seat, eyes locked onto the live feed.
His pupils expanded.
'He… sliced it.'
Not crushed. Not shattered.
Sliced.
Every fragment of the guardian monster lay separated by impossibly clean cuts. No tearing. No jagged edges. Each piece looked as though reality itself had been divided with surgical precision.
Silas leaned forward, breathing shallow.
'Those are all one-slash cuts,' he realized, a shiver running through his spine. 'Perfect. No hesitation. No drag.'
His lips parted slowly.
'He's a sword master.'
'No worse.'
'He has something beyond conventional swordsmanship.'
Nearby, Sorin clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
'I knew it,' she thought grimly. 'That technique… it's the same one.'
The memory resurfaced uninvited, Rowan screaming, blood spraying, his hand severed before anyone could even register the motion.
'So it can do this too,' she realized, staring at the screen. 'And far worse.'
Her gaze flicked toward Rowan's image among the observers.
'Since the head already knows,' she decided quietly, 'I'll stay silent. For now.'
Back in the dungeon hall, Draven finished inspecting the severed head and turned his sharp gaze toward Ashan.
His thoughts churned.
'There's no sword,' he noted. 'No blade. No edge.'
His eyes drifted briefly toward the gunbai strapped to Ashan's back.
'That thing looks odd… but it doesn't feel like a cutting weapon meant for this scale.'
Then another possibility struck him.
'A hidden weapon? Stored away?'
He straightened and walked toward Ashan, his expression composed but tense.
"I have a few questions," Draven said firmly. "And I expect proper answers."
Ashan turned his head slightly.
"That depends on the questions," he replied calmly. "Ask them one by one. I'll decide what to answer."
Draven nodded.
"First," he said, gesturing toward Ashan's back, "the weapon you used to slay the guardian. Was it that object you're carrying?"
"No," Ashan replied without hesitation. "That can cut, yes.. but it's not meant for large-scale attacks."
Draven frowned. "Then what weapon did you use?"
Ashan's gaze drifted briefly to the monster's remains.
"I used a technique," he said. "Blades formed from my own energy."
Draven's eyes widened.
"…Hold on," he said slowly. "Are you saying you can perform a formless sword?"
Ashan glanced at him.
"Formless sword?" he echoed. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Draven stiffened.
"You don't know?" he asked, incredulous. "Formless sword is the pinnacle of sword arts. It allows the user to turn anything they touch, including their own hands, into blades using mana. Masters can create invisible long-range blades with gestures alone. It's said to be the sharpest blade possible."
Ashan looked back at the monster's head.
"If that's what you mean," he said quietly, "then no. That's not what I use."
Draven scoffed.
"Then you're lying," he said bluntly. "A cut cannot exist without a medium. If you want to hide your method, fine.. but don't insult my intelligence."
Ashan's eyes narrowed slightly.
'Should I show him?' he wondered. 'If I do, everyone will know.'
His gaze flicked briefly toward the unseen observers.
'Those S-rankers will lose their minds.'
He exhaled.
'…Whatever. Let them.'
A faint, dangerous smile tugged at his lips.
'It's time they understand there's a line they shouldn't cross.'
Ashan raised two fingers and pointed casually at the monster's head.
"Bluffing?" he said calmly. "Then watch closely."
Whoosh..
There was no sound of metal. No visible slash.
The monster's head split cleanly in two. The core was revealed instantly, sliced open as though it had been peeled apart by an invisible hand.
"How's that?" Ashan asked, his voice echoing faintly. "Do you believe me now?"
Silas shot to his feet.
His chair screeched violently as it toppled backward.
"What did I just see?!" he roared, slamming his fist into the table.
Veins bulged on his forehead. His pupils shook uncontrollably.
"That.. THAT is impossible!" he shouted. "There was no sword! No swing! He just pointed!"
His breathing turned ragged.
"That's not formless sword," he muttered, eyes burning. "That's something else. Something… wrong."
Then,
He laughed.
Low at first.
Then louder.
"I want to fight him," Silas said, grinning wildly. "Yes. I need to fight him."
His clenched fists trembled with excitement.
"If I cross blades with him," he said breathlessly, "I'll reach a new realm of swordsmanship."
Around him, the other S-rankers sat frozen.
Aren swallowed hard.
Rowan began sweating profusely.
Fragments of memory assaulted him.. Ashan's fingers, the sudden loss of his hand, the pain arriving too late.
He grabbed his remaining hand unconsciously.
'So that was it,' he thought shakily. 'That technique…'
Fear crawled up his spine.
'If he uses that to kill,' he realized, 'none of us could dodge it.'
Back in the dungeon, Eirena's grip on her sword tightened until her knuckles whitened.
"You…" she whispered. "You just pointed… and it.."
Her throat was dry.
Sisiliya, veteran of countless battles, found her breath unsteady.
Her heart pounded violently.
'That wasn't magic,' she thought. 'Not mana. Not swordsmanship.'
Her understanding of power cracked.
'That technique… is beyond reason.'
Draven stood frozen.
'A gesture,' his mind screamed. 'Just a gesture.'
Ashan turned away, clearly satisfied by their reactions.
"I think that's enough," he said calmly. "We still have one stage left."
He began walking forward.
Draven swallowed and followed silently, every question he had dying in his throat.
The corridor ahead was eerily calm.
No traps.
No monsters.
No resistance.
The hallway widened, illuminated by a steady glow. The architecture became more refined, less crude stone, more deliberate design.
"It's strange," Sisiliya murmured. "Walking peacefully like this."
Ashan nodded. "There's a reason."
"And that is?" she asked.
"The threat waiting ahead," he replied. "It's enough to replace everything else."
Soon, they reached the end.
Two massive doors stood before them.
One black. One blood red. Placed far apart.
Sisiliya frowned.
"Two doors?" she said quietly. "This is abnormal. No dungeon we've seen behaves like this."
Ashan stepped toward the black door.
His eyes narrowed.
'…What is this?'