The cold grip of Tempest's hilt grounded me.
I stood still in the middle of the training room. I didn't widen my stance. I didn't shift my weight. I just looked at the empty air thirty feet in front of me.
My mind locked onto that single point. I didn't think about drawing the blade or the motion my arm would make. I didn't think about the distance. I simply decided, with everything I had, that the space in front of me was already cut.
I drew the sword.
There was no sound of steel against the scabbard. No bright flash. For a moment, the light in the room just died, swallowed by a dark emptiness.
Then, reality tore open.
A thin, jagged line of black light flickered in the air. It wasn't a flying slash of energy. It was a literal tear in the space of the room, crackling with black lightning and carrying the silent heat of the Soul Flame. It existed for only a split second, but in that moment, the air inside the room was completely erased.
Boom!
