The morning air was clear—brisk, with the faint chill of dew clinging to the wind.
Knox stretched lightly, rolling his shoulders. The dull ache that had haunted him for days was gone. Mana flowed smoothly again through his body, bright and steady.
Dana stood a few steps away, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but sharp. The faintest curve touched her lips. "Looks like you're finally standing properly."
Knox blinked once. "You make it sound like I just learned how to walk."
"Then let's see if you can still fight," she replied simply.
It wasn't a question.
It was a declaration.
Without another word, Dana turned and began walking toward the open field behind the safehouse—a stretch of barren land scarred by time and weather. The ground was hard and uneven, a perfect place to measure strength without restraint.
Israfill followed a few steps behind, her long blue hair catching the light as she raised a hand. "At least let me set up a barrier first," she said softly. But beneath that calm tone, there was a trace of warning.
She pressed her palm forward, and a ring of light unfurled across the field—rippling outward like water before solidifying into a transparent dome that shimmered faintly with divine energy. The air itself hummed.
Her gaze sharpened. Her voice stayed calm, but there was weight behind it. "Do not cross the line."
Dana didn't respond. Her hand merely settled on the hilt of her sword, fingers tightening just slightly — enough to show she'd heard, but not enough to answer.
The wind stilled.
Even the leaves seemed to hold their breath.
Across the field, Knox exhaled slowly and lowered his stance, his katana's edge catching the morning light. His heart beat steady—not out of fear, but anticipation.
"Alright then," Knox exhaled softly, adjusting his grip on the katana. A calm glint lingered in his eyes, neither reckless nor afraid. "Let's see… how far I can go."
Knox exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the hilt. The faint hum of mana flowed along the edge of his katana, answering the rhythm of his breath.
Then, he stepped forward.
Eight Leaves One Blade — First Form, Shizuna's Version: Raging Blizzard.
He lowered his stance, blade drawn near the ground. In the next heartbeat, the katana rose in a sweeping upward arc — the steel spiraling with frost and air entwined. Knox spun once, his coat trailing in a circle of cold light. Wind and ice burst outward as his sword descended, shards scattering like glass. The ground beneath them froze white; even the air seemed to crack under the chill.
Dana's coat whipped violently in the sudden storm. A faint glimmer of gold wrapped around her as she braced, deflecting the frost before it reached her.
Knox didn't stop. His foot slid to the side, motion flowing like running water.
Eight Leaves One Blade — Second Form, Shizuna's Version: Silver Winds.
He dashed forward, his form blurring into motion. In the blink of an eye, he vanished—then reappeared behind, to the side, above, each movement leaving a fleeting afterimage in the air. Silver arcs traced his path, dozens of slashes weaving a storm that encircled Dana in an instant. The rhythm of steel filled the air like a tempest—swift, elegant, and relentless.
Dana's eyes narrowed. Her sword rose, parrying the final strike with practiced ease. The sound of their blades meeting rang clear — a clean, sharp tone that cut through the air.
Knox exhaled once, his gaze steady. His next step fell soft — deliberate. Shadows stretched faintly at his feet.
Eight Leaves One Blade — Fourth Form, Shizuna's Version: Duality.
He dashed forward, a single stroke cutting across the distance — clean, direct, perfect. A breath later, a second blade shadow followed, delayed by half a heartbeat, mirroring the first. The twin slashes met Dana's guard together — one of steel, one of phantom — scattering light and shadow in a single burst.
The echo of the strike hung in the air, silver mist dissolving slowly.
Knox lowered his katana, breathing steady, eyes calm — the three forms blending seamlessly into one rhythm.
The air fell still once more. Dust and frost slowly settled on the ground where Knox had just stood.
Dana lowered her blade, her expression unreadable at first — then, a faint curve tugged at the corner of her lips. "I've never seen a sword style like that," she said, tone calm but carrying a note of curiosity.
Her eyes flicked briefly to the ground — the faint silver trails still lingering in the dirt. "I assume that's the same technique you used against Jasil, isn't it?"
Knox straightened, resting his katana at his side. "More or less," he replied quietly.
Dana tilted her head slightly, studying his stance, the way he held his sword — disciplined, yet flowing. "What's it called?"
Knox steadied his breathing, the tip of his katana glinting faintly under the daylight. "It's an original style," he said, tone calm but certain. "I call it— Eight Leaves One Blade."
Israfill, who had been quietly watching from behind her barrier, tilted her head. Her blue eyes softened with interest. "Eight Leaves One Blade?" she repeated. "That's a good name. What does it mean?"
Knox smiled faintly, resting the blade against his shoulder. "Eight leaves, one blade," he said, his voice low but steady. "Eight paths, eight ways of living— all different, but they lead to the same truth. No matter the form, a blade still reflects the heart of the one who wields it."
Israfill blinked, caught off guard for a moment. The surprise on her face softened into quiet admiration. "I didn't expect a deep meaning behind that name," she said gently, her voice almost thoughtful. "To think a young boy like you could create a sword style like this…"
Her eyes gleamed faintly—subtle, filled with admiration.
Dana, who'd been silent the whole time, uncrossed her arms. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, though there was something else behind it—curiosity. "Eight Leaves, huh? But you only showed three moves."
Knox scratched his cheek, a small grin forming. "Yeah. There are others."
He looked up again, tone relaxed but earnest. "The ones I used just now are derivative—modified versions of the originals. Something I adjusted to fit how I fight."
Knox exhaled softly, letting his blade fall to his side. "Well… since I already started, might as well show the rest," he said with an easy smile. There wasn't arrogance in his tone—just quiet confidence, the kind that came from focus.
He adjusted his footing. The wind stilled.
Eight Leaves One Blade — Third Form: Karmic Flame.
Mana burst from beneath his feet as he stepped forward, his katana cutting downward in a blazing arc. The strike didn't just slice through air—it roared, leaving behind a faint trail of crimson light that shimmered like heat rising from fire. The ground beneath cracked slightly under the pressure, a brief gust scattering dust in every direction.
Dana lifted her sword to block, the impact sending a metallic shockwave through the barrier. Sparks danced between their blades.
Knox twisted his wrist, flowing into the next stance without breaking rhythm.
Dana tilted her head slightly, a faint smile curving her lips. "Hoo… interesting," she murmured, her tone calm yet edged with excitement.
Without further warning, she stepped in—her figure blurring as she suddenly closed the distance, sword flashing toward Knox in a crimson arc.
Knox didn't retreat. His breath drew still, posture lowering into a subtle, poised stance as his hand rested lightly on the hilt.
Eight Leaves One Blade — Fifth Form: Morning Moon.
The instant Dana's strike descended, steel sang. A single shiiing! split the air—an upward draw, so precise it caught her blade at the perfect angle. The clash burst into a flare of silver and red light, sparks scattering like embers under moonlight.
Her strike was redirected harmlessly aside, its power dissipating into the wind. Dana slid back a step, eyes narrowing in sharp surprise before softening with faint respect.
Knox straightened, smoothly sheathing his katana. "That one's meant for countering," he said quietly, almost as if explaining to himself rather than her.
Before the last echo of steel faded, he shifted again—his motion seamless, flowing like a current unbroken.
Eight Leaves One Blade — Sixth Form: Scarlet Sky.
A wide, horizontal slash tore outward, carrying a red wave that shimmered in the air like twilight breaking across the horizon. The power was raw yet refined—not reckless, but deliberate—each stroke an extension of calm resolve.
Dana's gaze sharpened. She braced herself, sliding back a step as the wave dispersed against her aura. The faintest hint of approval crossed her face.
Knox steadied his breathing, lowering his sword. The Seventh Form… still beyond me, he thought.
He looked up again, a quiet grin touching his lips. "That's all of them—well, the ones I can use, anyway."
The air between them still hummed faintly, cut through by the lingering traces of light and pressure.
Knox steadied his breathing, lowering his sword. The faint hum of mana still lingered in the air when Dana finally spoke.
"The ones you can use?" she asked, her tone even, but her eyes sharp with curiosity. "You mean you already created the movements, but can't use them yet?"
Knox gave a small nod. "Yeah. The Seventh Form's something I've only thought of—still just in my head."
The Seventh Form, Void, is paradoxical. While every other form has structure — defined motions, timing, and purpose — Void is the absence of form. It isn't a stance, a sequence, or a technique you can memorize.
He looked up again, calm and honest. "As for the Eighth… that one's a little different. You fight without a sword. It's not about technique anymore—it's about becoming the blade."
The field fell silent.
Dust slowly settled where blades had danced, and the faint hum of mana still lingered in the air like the echo of a fading song. Knox lowered his katana, exhaling softly, his heartbeat finally catching up with him.
Israfill was the first to make a sound. She blinked once, her blue eyes tracing the air where light and wind still shimmered, before they returned to him—calm, curious, and a little amazed. A gentle smile touched her lips. "That was… beautiful," she said quietly. "Your movements flowed like water—graceful, deliberate, yet never forced. Every strike felt alive, connected to the next, as if the sword itself was breathing with you."
Dana, standing a few steps away, watched in silence for a moment before speaking. "Eight Leaves One Blade…" she murmured, her tone low but thoughtful. "Each form showed a different rhythm—attack, defense, flow, impact… a complete circle of technique."
Her gaze lingered on Knox, and just for a heartbeat, a faint, genuine smile appeared—small, fleeting, but real. "You've done well, Knox."
Knox blinked. Wait… did she just smile? Like, a real one? Not the scary 'I'll cut you in half for breathing wrong' smile? His lips twitched. Damn, why isn't there a screenshot feature on my system? … Wait—system?
A sudden thought crossed his mind. Back when I fought Jasil, there was that weird notification. Don't tell me… my EX-rank skill—Shadow Monarch—finally unlocked?! I need to check this.