—
Lotus Petal Severance
.
“They really are a disgrace…”
For all the grand reputation of the Cloud Heavens Sect, Kara’s execution of such a high-level technique lacked the refinement and precision he’d expected. Power alone wasn’t enough; without control, it was a hollow display.
With a fluid movement, he raised his estoc slightly to his right side, assuming a wing stance, his blade poised to intercept. As the ice-infused energy of the
Lotus Petal Severance
descended, tearing through the ground, he met it head-on.
CREAK! CREAK!
With a sharp twist of his wrist, he cross-slashed the incoming ice strikes, breaking them apart in midair, the shards of cold mana scattering harmlessly around him. His blade moved like an extension of his intent, slicing through the icy assault with ease.
Without hesitation, his arm continued the arc, bringing his estoc to his left side as he stepped forward. In one smooth motion, he brought his blade down diagonally, the strike aimed directly at Kara’s sword as she descended.
CLANG!
Their swords clashed with a force that echoed through the arena, but it was Kara who bore the brunt of the impact. Her eyes widened in shock as her carefully cultivated technique was shattered so easily. The sheer strength behind Lucavion’s counter forced her back, her body twisting as she lost her balance, thrown off by the unexpected force and the angle of his strike.
Before she could recover, Lucavion moved with ruthless efficiency. He didn’t even waste a single moment at all.
THUD!
His left arm which had been free all the time snapped forward, his elbow catching her squarely in the face. The impact was brutal, sending her reeling, her momentum completely reversed as she stumbled back, her grip on her sword weakening.
“Urghk!”
The crowd gasped, stunned by the sudden shift in the fight’s tempo. Lucavion remained unfazed, his expression as calm as ever, his gaze fixed on Kara as she struggled to regain her footing.
Kara staggered back, her vision swimming as the pain in her face blossomed into a brutal ache. She could feel the sharp, burning sensation from her shattered nose, and instinctively brought a hand up to her face. Her fingers came away wet with blood, her once-composed expression twisted in a mixture of agony and fury. The once proud, beautiful image she held had been shattered along with her nose, her face now smeared with blood and a hint of snot from the brutal impact.
Her glare was murderous as she fixed her eyes on Lucavion, the humiliation only fueling her anger. “You… you’ll pay for this!” she spat, her voice muffled and nasally from the injury. Rage boiled within her, her mana swirling in response as she clenched her sword tightly. Despite the pain, she held her stance, but her focus was wavering, her control slipping as she was consumed by her wounded pride.
Lucavion simply raised his blade, his expression unreadable, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. With a slight tilt of his head, he made a small, taunting gesture with his sword, beckoning her forward.
“Come on, then,” he said, his tone calm, almost bored. “Let’s hope that strike just now wasn’t your most powerful move….If so, then I believe your sect will always remain a second hand all the time.”
Kara’s face contorted with rage as Lucavion’s words sank in, each syllable like salt in an open wound. “You… bastard!” she snarled, her voice seething with fury. “You’re just a man—nothing more!” With a shout, she lunged forward, propelling herself with a burst of mana, her sword arcing toward him with deadly intent.
But Lucavion remained utterly calm, his smirk widening as he adjusted his stance. This time….—he’d already seen through her fighting style, and he was more than prepared.
As Kara’s blade came crashing down, Lucavion stepped back just enough for her strike to miss, the edge of her sword grazing the air between them.
His estoc, with its extended reach, flicked forward, meeting her sword mid-swing and diverting it harmlessly to the side.
Each movement was precise, each step calculated, his footwork flawless as he maintained the perfect distance between them.
Kara gritted her teeth, frustration gnawing at her as she realized she couldn’t even close the gap between them. She slashed again, this time infusing her strike with a surge of mana, hoping to catch him off guard.
But Lucavion adjusted with a swift shift of his stance, his estoc flicking out to deflect her blow, the extra reach of his weapon keeping her at bay effortlessly.
Their clash continued, but it was no contest. Lucavion’s mastery over spacing was impeccable, his movements fluid as he kept just beyond her reach, his estoc darting in and out like a serpent.
Every time she tried to close the distance, his blade would intercept hers, either diverting her attack or forcing her back with a small, calculated counter.
Kara’s frustration only grew, her strikes becoming more erratic as she realized she couldn’t touch him. Even with her mana-infused attacks, he remained untouchable, his blade finding its mark with perfect timing and precision. He controlled the space between them with an ease that bordered on insulting as if he were toying with her.
“You call that an attack?” he asked, his voice laced with mocking amusement. “If this is all the Cloud Heavens Sect has to offer, maybe you should start spending more time on the training grounds, rather than with men at night, don’t you think…..”
“Shut up!”
“Why? Does the truth hurt?”
“Shut up!”
“Or, will you just cry for attention again? Tears won’t save you here, though be careful.”
“Shut up!”
The crowd watched in stunned silence as Kara’s attempts became increasingly erratic, her focus fractured by the continuous, stinging insults. And finally, as she gathered her mana for one final strike, Lucavion sighed, shifting his gaze to the audience with a look of utter boredom.
“This is utterly pathetic, isn’t it?”
With a quick, effortless motion, he sidestepped her final strike, and before she could realize her mistake, his estoc shot forward. The blade pierced her right shoulder—the arm she’d been using to attack—stopping her assault in its tracks. Kara’s eyes widened in pain and shock as she felt the cold steel drive into her flesh, her blade falling short yet again, out of reach.
Lucavion withdrew his estoc with a swift motion, leaving her reeling, clutching her wounded shoulder. He then raised his blade and placed the tip against her neck, his eyes unyielding and his expression calm.
“Yield,” he said softly, his voice carrying a finality that left no room for argument.
Kara stood frozen, her breathing ragged, her pride shattered. Her hand trembled as she looked up at him, the reality of her defeat settling in with brutal clarity.
“I said, yield.”
Kara’s gaze faltered as she looked up at him, the weight of her defeat pressing down on her like a physical force. Her breathing was shallow, her pride in tatters, and as the tip of Lucavion’s estoc remained poised at her neck, her resolve finally crumbled.
“I… yield,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but enough for him and the referee to hear.
Her hand clutched her wounded shoulder, while her other hand cupped her head in disbelief, the pain mingling with the shock of just how thoroughly she’d been bested.
As she looked at him, the icy calm in his pitch-black gaze and the unwavering precision of his movements, a shiver ran through her.
‘Who said this guy was a Phantom Blade?’
she thought bitterly, her mind reeling.
‘This guy… he’s a demon.’
The crowd erupted in a mixture of shock and applause, but Lucavion remained composed, lowering his estoc and giving her a slight nod as he stepped back, allowing her a moment of dignity even in defeat. Kara’s face flushed with a mix of shame and awe as she staggered back, unable to shake the realization that she’d faced something far more formidable than she’d expected.
Lucavion turned, his gaze sweeping over the audience, his expression calm yet unreadable, leaving the spectators in awe of his unflinching prowess and mastery. He had proven himself without a trace of hesitation, a fighter who commanded respect through his actions alone.
*******
In the private lounge, where Marquis Ventor and the two sect elders watched the battles unfold, an uncomfortable silence filled the air following the conclusion of Lucavion and Kara’s fight. The tension was palpable as the echoes of the crowd’s shock and applause resonated through the arena. Marquis Ventor’s face remained neutral, though his eyes gleamed with an undeniable intrigue at the display of skill he had just witnessed.
Then, a sudden, sharp sound broke the silence.
–CRACK!
A crack.
Both the Marquis and Elder Kael turned their attention toward the source of the sound. Elder Xue’s hand was clenched around the armrest of her chair, her fingers digging in with enough force that the finely crafted wood had splintered beneath her grip. Her face was a mask of controlled fury, her eyes narrowed as she watched the arena, her gaze locked onto Lucavion’s figure.