The blademaster's blades blurred into crescents of silver light. Two blades moved in perfect harmony, creating a web of steel that filled every possible angle of approach.
"Lysa, barrier!" Tirion's shield was already moving, but different than his usual defensive stance. He shifted into a stance I'd never seen before - shield held at chest level, angled slightly inward to center mass, creating an overlapping zone of defense as he widened his stance for maximum stability.
Lysa didn't need to be told her part. Years of fighting together had taught them each other's moves, each other's rhythms. Dark energy coalesced around her staff, but instead of forming her usual barrier, the shadow magic flowed into Tirion's shield
The transformation was beautiful. Shadow magic threaded through the metal like black lightning, giving the solid steel a dark aura that flowed. Each wave of darkness strengthened both physical and magical protection, the two defenses resonating with each other.
"Everyone behind us!" Tirion's boots dug into the stone floor as he braced. Lysa pressed her back against his, her staff touching the shield's edge, maintaining the fusion of defenses.
The blademaster's twin strikes hit their combined defense like a tsunami meeting a cliff. Each impact sent ripples through the shadow-enhanced shield, but where his blades should have carved through steel and magic alike, they found no purchase. Physical force dispersed through magical channels while magical energy grounded itself in solid steel.
"Impressive.” The blademaster said. “But let's see how your defense handles... this."
“Nitoryu: Mugen Ame no Mai.” His voice echoed across the room.
The blademaster's form blurred, splitting into multiple afterimages that ringed the arena. Each image held its swords differently, high guard, low stance, reversed grip, creating a kaleidoscope of lethal possibilities.
"Left side!" Tirion barked, but the warning came too late. The first strike had already landed, a diagonal slash that scraped across the shadow-enhanced shield with a sound like screaming metal. Before the echoes faded, three more hits landed from completely different angles.
The afterimages weren't just for show - each one could attack independently, their blades weaving an ever-tightening web of steel. Strikes rained down, each blow precisely aimed at the smallest imperfection, the tiniest gap in their defense.
Lysa's breath came in short gasps, her knuckles white around her staff as she struggled to maintain the shadow enhancement. "He's systematically testing our defense, looking for-"
A particularly vicious strike interrupted her, the impact making her stumble. Tirion's leg shot out, bracing her before she could fall. They moved as one unit, adjusting their stance to compensate for each new angle of attack.
"Seven," I counted under my breath, watching the afterimages multiply. "No, twelve points of attack.” He was testing the defense. Each strike searching for a weakness.
The tempo of attacks suddenly doubled. Blades struck like lightning, no longer just testing but actively seeking to overload their combined defense. The impacts created a horrible melody of metal and magic.
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"Can't... hold..." Lysa's whispered. The shadow enhancement flickered, sections of normal steel showing through where her magic was failing. Tirion's arms shook with the effort of absorbing countless impacts, but his stance remained solid, refusing to yield even an inch.
All the afterimages converged at once, twelve angles of attack becoming one perfect strike. The impact hit like an earthquake, knocking Tirion and Lysa to their knees. The shadow-enhanced shield crackled with strain, dark energy leaking from widening cracks.
My mind raced through everything I'd seen. Perfect synchronization between two blades was theoretically impossible - even a master swordsman would have microsecond delays between hands. I'd seen similar patterns in high-level PvP, where dual-wielding players...
Wait.
I focused on his movements, really looked at them. There - in the follow-through. His right hand completed its arc a fraction faster, the left blade always adjusting to match. Not enough difference to matter in normal combat, but against someone who'd spent thousands of hours analyzing frame-perfect attack animations...
"Estella!" I called out, hoping she could still move after all this. "His right sword - it's his dominant hand. Left blade lags on recovery, maybe point-three seconds!"
She didn't waste breath acknowledging. Her chakrams were already spinning up, gathering momentum. But we needed something to force that opening, to make him commit to a full swing with his dominant hand.
"Warriors of Darkness, Assembly!"
One knight materialized, sword raised in a suicidal charge. The blademaster's right sword moved to intercept - exactly as predicted. A textbook response to a frontal assault.
In that fraction of a second, the trap snapped shut:
The guardian's right blade sheared through my summoned knight like paper, shattering the iron sword into a cloud of metal fragments. But that perfect strike had committed him to a full swing, leaving his left side vulnerable for just a moment.
His left sword started its compensating arc, but the timing was off. Metal shards from the broken sword interfered with his sight lines, forced micro-adjustments in his perfect form. Point-three seconds of delay became point-five.
Estella's chakrams struck like silver lightning, catching his left blade in a perfect cross-strike just as its rhythm faltered. The impact rang through the chamber like a temple bell.
The blademaster's left sword went spinning through the air, embedding itself in the far wall with enough force to crack stone. He flowed immediately into a single-blade stance, his movement still graceful - but that perfect, unstoppable harmony was broken.
More of my summoned knights materialized, their iron swords raised in formation. Twenty, thirty, forty warriors - enough to overwhelm any normal swordsman through sheer numbers.
"Hmph." The blademaster’s blindfolded face studied my creations. "Summoning magic as a tactical resource. Sacrificing pieces to control the flow of battle. Unconventional... but effective."
His sword settled into a stance that made my combat instincts scream. The blade pointed straight down, his grip reversed, like a conductor about to begin a symphony of steel.
"Now then..." The air itself seemed to grow heavy. "Shall we begin the true test?"
"Mugen Ittōryū: Ken no Oka"
Reality twisted. The chamber's environment shimmered and transformed, the gentle field of grass becoming a barren wasteland. Countless swords stood planted in the cracked earth, a forest of blades stretching to the horizon. Each weapon was different - ancient katanas, weathered broadswords, ceremonial blades, all standing like grave markers under a blood-red sky.
A sound like thunder rolled across the desolate plain. Above us, the crimson sky split open. Swords began to rain down like a steel monsoon, each blade perfectly aimed. My summoned warriors raised their shields, formed defensive formations - but it didn't matter. The falling blades pierced through their equipment like rain through paper.
The blademaster moved through the storm of falling steel like a ghost. Each step brought him to a new sword, his hand never empty for more than a fraction of a second. He would cut through three knights with a rastier, discard it for a khanda to cleave through a shield wall, then snatch a katana from the air to disable another group. Each blade was wielded with perfect mastery, as if he'd spent lifetimes studying every possible form of swordsmanship.
"Do you understand now?" His voice carried over the sound of falling swords and dying knights. "This is the weight of all who came before. Every blade here represents a warrior who challenged this tomb. Their swords, their techniques, their very souls - all became part of this eternal test."
He caught another blade out of the air. "Now... shall we add your weapons to this hill?"
