The One-Eyed Silent Swordsman
Arc 5: Elven Village Arc
Chapter 15: Advanced Mana Control
Morning.
The air feels sharper today.
Not calm anymore.
Different.
"…Good."
The old man stands ahead.
"…You can move now."
A pause.
"…So today…"
"…you will fight."
My eye sharpens.
"…Finally."
The girl steps back.
"…You're serious…?"
"…He won't learn otherwise."
Silence.
The old man raises his hand slightly.
The air shifts.
Mana gathers.
Condenses.
Then—
A shape forms.
A creature.
Not fully real.
But not illusion.
"…What is that…"
"…A construct."
"…Made from mana."
The creature moves.
Fast.
Too fast.
It attacks instantly.
I react—
Step.
Hold.
My presence remains stable.
Barely.
I dodge.
The attack passes.
"…Good."
No time to respond.
It attacks again.
Faster.
I move.
Step—
Hold—
Strike—
My blade cuts through it.
It reforms instantly.
"…Not over."
"…Of course not."
The pressure builds.
Inside me.
The more I move—
The harder it becomes to control.
Another attack.
I dodge.
But my presence trembles.
Almost breaks.
"…Stay…"
I force it to hold.
Barely.
"…You're losing it."
"…Not yet."
I step forward.
Faster.
More precise.
The flow returns.
For a moment—
Everything aligns.
I move.
Clean.
Controlled.
My blade strikes again.
This time—
The construct breaks.
Shatters.
Silence.
Then—
It reforms again.
Stronger.
"…It adapts…"
"…Just like you."
The old man watches calmly.
"…Now push further."
The pressure rises.
Inside.
Unstable.
Dangerous.
"…If I lose control…"
"…Then control it."
No hesitation.
I move again.
Faster.
The construct attacks—
I step—
Hold—
Turn—
Strike—
The flow holds.
Longer.
Stronger.
But—
My breathing breaks.
"…Tch…"
The pressure inside me…
Spikes.
Violently.
The air distorts.
The ground reacts.
"…Stop."
The old man's voice cuts through.
But I don't stop.
"…I can still—"
The presence bursts.
Explodes outward.
Stronger than before.
The construct disappears instantly.
The air goes silent.
My body freezes.
Breathing broken.
"…You lost control."
Silence.
"…Again."
No anger.
No reaction.
Just that.
"…Again?"
"…You're not done."
My grip tightens.
"…Fine."
I step forward.
Breathing steady.
Slower now.
More careful.
The presence inside me…
Moves.
Wild.
But I follow it.
Not force.
Flow.
The construct forms again.
Attacks.
I move.
Step.
Hold.
Turn.
Strike.
No break.
No burst.
Clean.
Controlled.
The construct shatters.
And doesn't reform.
Silence.
"…This time…"
"…you held it."
The old man observes quietly.
My breathing steadies.
My presence remains contained.
Stable.
"…That feeling…"
"…don't lose it."
A pause.
"…Because next time…"
The air shifts slightly.
"…you won't be fighting something that waits."
Silence.
My eye sharpens.
"…Good."
No hesitation.
No fear.
Only focus.
…
Morning.
The air feels… different.
Not heavy.
Not unstable.
…Focused.
"…Stand."
The old man's voice is calm.
I step forward.
No hesitation.
"…Today…"
A pause.
"…you will not just control it."
"…You will shape it."
My eye sharpens.
"…Shape…"
"…Your presence."
"…Your mana."
"…Into something usable."
Silence.
"…A technique."
The word settles.
"…Finally…"
The girl watches from a distance.
"…He's already at that stage…?"
"…He reached it faster than expected."
The old man doesn't look at her.
"…But unstable."
Silence.
"…Focus."
I breathe.
Slow.
Steady.
The presence inside me…
Moves.
Not wild.
Not calm.
…Flowing.
"…Don't release it."
"…Guide it."
I raise my sword.
Sokaru.
The blade feels different.
Like it's responding.
"…So you feel it too…"
A faint shift.
The air around the blade distorts slightly.
"…Now…"
"…Push it forward."
I move.
Slow.
Controlled.
The presence follows.
Flows.
From my body—
Into the blade.
The pressure builds.
Not outside.
Inside the sword.
"…This is…"
"…dangerous…"
"…Because you're still unstable."
"…Then I won't lose it."
My grip tightens.
The flow sharpens.
The blade hums slightly.
The air trembles.
"…Now release it."
No hesitation.
I swing.
A single strike.
The air splits.
A faint wave moves forward.
Not large.
Not powerful.
But real.
The ground ahead cracks slightly.
Silence.
"…That…"
"…was a technique."
My breathing steadies.
"…Too weak."
"…Of course."
The old man speaks calmly.
"…It's your first."
A pause.
"…Now do it again."
No rest.
I reset.
Breathe.
Focus.
Flow.
Guide.
The presence moves again.
This time—
Smoother.
Faster.
More controlled.
The blade reacts.
Stronger.
"…Again."
I swing.
The wave expands further.
Sharper.
Cleaner.
It cuts through the ground.
Deeper.
"…Better."
The old man observes.
"…Now name it."
Silence.
"…Name it…?"
"…A technique without identity…"
"…will never evolve."
The words settle.
My grip tightens slightly.
The flow inside me…
The blade…
The movement…
All align.
"…Sokaru…"
A pause.
"…Silent Flow."
Silence.
"…Again."
No hesitation.
I move.
Faster.
More precise.
The presence flows instantly.
No resistance.
No break.
Perfect alignment—
I strike.
The air splits.
A sharper wave cuts forward.
Clean.
Controlled.
The ground tears apart.
Deeper than before.
Silence.
"…Now…"
The old man speaks quietly.
"…that is a technique."
My breathing steadies.
The presence remains contained.
Stable.
"…I see…"
A faint shift in the air.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Controlled.
"…I can go further."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
…
Morning.
The air is sharper today.
Not unstable.
Focused.
"…Again."
The old man stands ahead.
Watching.
I step forward.
Sokaru in hand.
"…Show me."
No delay.
I breathe.
Slow.
The presence moves.
Flows.
Controlled.
The blade hums faintly.
"…Air Slash."
I swing.
A sharp wave cuts forward.
Cleaner than before.
Faster.
It tears through the ground.
Silence.
"…Better."
A pause.
"…But not enough."
The old man raises his hand.
Mana gathers.
Condenses.
Three constructs form.
Stronger.
Faster.
"…Use it in combat."
They move.
Instantly.
One from the left.
I step—
Hold—
"…Air Slash."
I strike.
The wave cuts through it.
It breaks.
But—
Two more attack.
No pause.
I move again.
Faster.
The pressure rises.
Inside me.
Unstable.
"…Tch…"
I dodge.
Barely.
Their speed increases.
Relentless.
"…Hold it…"
The flow trembles.
Almost breaks.
I step forward—
"…Air Slash."
The second breaks.
But the third—
Already there.
Too close.
No time.
I react.
Instinct.
The flow sharpens.
Condenses.
Not wide.
Focused.
Sharp.
"…Air Slash."
I swing.
A thin line cuts forward.
Faster.
Sharper.
The construct splits instantly.
Clean.
No resistance.
Silence.
"…That…"
The old man's eyes narrow slightly.
"…You compressed it."
My breathing steadies.
"…Compressed…"
"…Instead of spreading it…"
"…you focused it."
A pause.
"…That is more efficient."
Silence.
I look at Sokaru.
The blade hums faintly.
"…This feels…"
"…right."
"…Then repeat it."
No hesitation.
I move again.
Faster.
Cleaner.
The flow stabilizes instantly.
No resistance.
Perfect alignment—
"…Air Slash."
I strike.
A thin slash cuts forward.
The air splits.
The ground opens.
Precise.
Deadly.
Silence.
"…Good."
The old man speaks quietly.
"…That is your technique."
My breathing steadies.
The presence remains contained.
Stable.
Sharper than before.
"…I can go further."
The old man turns slightly.
"…You will."
A pause.
"…Because outside…"
"…this level won't be enough."
Silence.
My eye sharpens.
"…Then I'll surpass it."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Chapter End
Next Chapter: Controlled Kill
Time: Sunday, 6PM GMT+5:30