Breath

Ssshhhaaa-

Having cleaved his blade vertically, Doyun stood unmoving in the rain, contemplating:

‘Splendid.’

A profoundly gratifying moment of immersion in the sword, truly long overdue.

[The ‘Swordsmanship’ skill has leveled up. Current Level: 6]

Dismissing the satisfying notification with a finger flick, he noted the skill’s progression too.

Level 6 ranked among the highest tiers attainable through normal means alone.

While such rapid growth remained unparalleled for Doyun, his recently awakened [Investigative Probing] trait had granted a form of shallow enlightenment.

‘Teaching Lei the Hecreaux style, and now this subtle boon…’

Meanwhile, Lei stared wide-eyed at his chest, visibly startled.

Panting heavily, his torso’s scales and hide bore a razor-thin laceration.

‘A little deeper and that would’ve been fatal…’

Struggling to calm his still-racing heart.

This constituted the issue with sparring his brother.

His formidable technique enabled exquisitely precarious control, teetering on the razored edge.

Of course, he never actually sustained fatal wounds – plus, combat-mirroring conditions provided immensely constructive training.

He understood Doyun did so purposefully, yet…

‘But that was way too close for comfort!’

Lei caressed the shaved scales while grumbling petulantly.

“Hyaaah… You nearly stopped my heart right there…!”

“Hmm… My apologies.”

It seemed he had become overly absorbed in the sword this time.

Yet sometimes bitter medicine proved healthiest – for Lei aiming to ingrain martial arts into his very instincts, such rigorous training proved tremendously effective.

Moreover, only Doyun could exert such exquisite control – tutelage unobtainable even through exorbitant fees elsewhere.

While Lei understood this rationale, he continued whining persistently – lest next time proved truly fatal.

Laying such preemptive groundwork tempered Doyun’s subsequent intensity as the now-perceptive Lei resorted to wiles.

“Ah, see here brother? My arm’s scales are standing on end from the chills…”

“You’re not dying, moron. Perhaps I went a tad overboard, but I calculated everything – your muscles remain unscathed.”

“You underestimate how big a deal shaving dragon scales is! Doesn’t hurt, you say? Scales feel pain unlike mere nails!”

“…Is that so?”

Caught off guard by this unfamiliar claim, Doyun’s demeanor softened slightly.

Of course, a blatant fib – scales lack nerve endings, so shaving caused no pain.

Yet Lei persisted with his theatrics adamantly.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be gentler next time.”

“Please do…”

Having extracted that promise, Lei inwardly beamed despite his blubbering facade.

Though simultaneously puzzled:

‘But… how did he shave my scales in the first place?’

He had sensed neither aura projection nor mana deployment.

Had the bare blade alone shaved his scales? Was such a feat even possible?

‘Nah, couldn’t be…’

Lei assumed Doyun must have briefly channeled mana, however fleeting – his mana control remained superb, after all.

Having indulged Lei’s feeble ruse sufficiently, Doyun revisited that previous sensation.

‘Zone…’

The realm of exerting willpower over phenomena – Manifest Blade transcendence.

Thus far, Doyun had witnessed three such manifestations:

The Dark Lord’s Manifest Blade imbued with ‘the will to kill’.

Enoch’s Manifest Blade imbued with ‘the will to sever’.

Hecreaux’s Manifest Blade imbued with ‘the will to strike powerfully’.

Each manifestation had differed in form.

‘Büsker’s Manifest Blade…’

Doyun recalled the oft-muttered phrase from the late Sword Saint:

That ‘Path of the Blade’ he had espoused so devoutly – its ultimate culmination could be described as the ‘Absolute Zone’.

Had Büsker completed his Manifest Blade, it would have embodied that ‘Absolute Zone’ itself.

‘If I ever witnessed it… No, would I even comprehend it?’

Büsker’s legacy had faded from this world, lacking inheritors to perfect it unlike the Hecreaux style’s evolution.

As an ordinary human, moreover an incessantly preoccupied one, Doyun could never hope to fully manifest the Büsker style himself.

‘I wish I could have seen it…’

He reminisced about his battle against Berthe.

Hecreaux had lingered beyond Enoch’s demise, further evolving his martial arts.

That posthumous evolved Hecreaux style attained through Berthe contained a sort of message, emotion – Hecreaux’s very will imbued within.

On that day, Doyun had shed tears of sheer rapture, as if reunited with Hecreaux himself.

Yet no such equivalent existed for Büsker’s legacy – no evolved Büsker style to bear witness.

Enoch had witnessed Büsker’s death with his own eyes.

The very estate where the Sword Saint’s remains lay interred – the Vanguard General ‘Reachking Ghoul’s’ domain beyond the Demon Realm.

There, Büsker and Ghoul had traded lives. There he had breathed his last repose.

‘Someday, I should visit with Bruder.’

If the frontlines advanced far enough, he vowed to make that pilgrimage without fail.

Thus ending their training session, the two exited the grounds. However:

“Hm?”

Tia and Tiamat could be seen in the rear courtyard garden.

‘What are they doing out here?’

Certainly Tia could not catch a cold, yet venturing out in such heavy rainfall seemed inadvisable nonetheless.

As Doyun puzzled over this, Lei spoke up:

“Oh, there’s Tia.”

“Why is she outside in this downpour?”

“I overheard earlier – today she’s learning the Breath from Lady Tiamat.”

“The Breath?”

Doyun’s brows raised in interest.

“Yeah, can you believe she’s learning the Breath itself? Incredible, right?”

“Hmm.”

He nodded in acknowledgment.

Enoch too had witnessed the Breath once in his previous incarnation, piquing his curiosity further.

‘Tia’s Breath, huh.’

With mutual understanding, they approached Tia and Tiamat.

+++

“Magic involves ‘painting’ with mana as the pigment.”

Tia listened raptly to her mother’s words with sparkling eyes.

“To nullify such magic, the orthodox method involves ‘overpainting’ with a different brush – transforming it into an entirely new picture.”

If presented with a circle drawing:

By adding multiple triangular strokes along its edges, it ceases being a circle, instead becoming a sun illustration.

This represented the fundamental nullification principle.

Naturally, excess pigment and brush strokes would be expended – additional mana and calculations required.

Hence the inherent difficulty in dispelling magic.

“However, the Breath constitutes the ‘pigment’ itself.”

“Pigment?”

“Yes, pigment.”

Tiamat caressed her adorable daughter’s forehead tenderly.

“What happens when you spill pigment over a picture?”

“The picture disappears?”

“Exactly. The picture itself becomes utterly meaningless.”

The Breath represented a pure mana discharge, a raw release of energy.

Like upending a bucket of paint over the canvas, against such overwhelming force, any picture simply ceased having meaning or purpose.

That was the essence of the Breath.

“Barring its immense mana consumption drawback, the Breath stands as the most perfect offense and defense alike. Shielding spells, attack spells, magic resistance – all prove utterly useless before it.”

Those words visibly sobered Tia’s expression.

The first war she had witnessed – the Apophis Battlefield. The dark flames that had devoured her father.

If only she had mastered the Breath back then…

She could have fired it at those descending fireballs, saving her father’s life.

“Do you understand now how vital a technique the Breath truly is?”

“…Yes. I’ll study diligently.”

“Huhu, commendable words.”

Thus, the Breath lessons commenced in earnest.

Tia applied herself wholeheartedly, her prodigious talents allowing her to swiftly master even high-level spells daily – a simplistic technique like the Breath posed no significant hurdle.

After a brief period:

“Hwwwaaahp-“

Tia’s draconic heart ignited as her mana converged within her maw.

The torrential mana surge whipped the surrounding winds into a frenzy, lashing the garden’s vegetation wildly.

Like the eve before a typhoon’s landfall, trees and grass thrashed violently amidst the howling gusts and driving rain.

Puddles scattered as surface runoff rippled outwards in concentric circles from Tia’s epicenter.

Finally, after amassing a mana volume sufficient – no, so immense it would overwhelm most mages into unconsciousness:

“Hwwahp-“

Tia opened her jaws skywards.

“Fwwwaaaaaaahp!!”

Her Breath erupted forth in a blazing torrent.

Kwwwwaaaaaaah!!

Witnessing this spectacle, the approaching Doyun and Lei craned their necks upwards.

Lei gaped slack-jawed in awe.

“W-, Wow, ah…”

A towering pillar soared heavenwards – an immense cyclone of pure mana.

The tiny Hatchling’s Breath ascended with seemingly inexhaustible momentum, shooting straight through the cloud layer.

Upon impacting the clouds, the resulting shockwave momentarily parted them, revealing the azure sky beyond in a brilliant flash.

The rain ceased as localized sunlight bathed Skeletonia’s capital city.

Emerging outside, the populace marveled at the sudden resplendent rainbow arcing across the heavens.

“Wow, wooooah… That was…”

The Breath itself…

For a prolonged moment, the two stood transfixed, utterly spellbound by its sheer formidable might.

That a mere Hatchling like Tia could unleash such devastation – this represented the mythical draconic ultimate technique witnessed only in legends.

“Wow… Tia is just… incredible, isn’t she brother?”

Finally regaining his wits, Lei turned towards Doyun.

Yet Doyun’s expression seemed oddly inscrutable.

“Brother?”

Despite Lei’s repeated calls, Doyun remained unresponsive.

Rather than his previous life’s Breath witnessing, this time Doyun experienced an entirely different impression – a distinct spark of inspiration tingling within.

‘That…’

Gazing up at the newly cleared skies, he inwardly mused:

‘Could I do that too…?’