The sound of metal leaving its sheath with a purpose rang out.
A leaf was cleaved in two whilst dancing in the air.
Like a swallow’s flight, the blade’s trajectory changed to cut a different leaf.
A gust of wind blew, carrying many more leaves with it.
Viers welcomed the gifts.
Some moved almost in a straight line, some approached like drifting clouds. Others were flickering chaotically, because of their different shapes, holes from caterpillar bites, or a slight change in the turbulence.
One, five, ten, twelve leaves were cut the second they entered his range.
All the while his eyes were closed.
The air became still as the wind abated and Viers returned the sword to its sheath.
Something felt off inside Viers’ mind.
This was one of Viers’ sword training excercises that he devised for awareness and precision. He had done this many times but for the first time, he felt something was imprecise. Not because of his result, it was his best record thus far.
What do I seek from this katana? What kind of swordsmanship do I want to have?
Viers opened his eyes and saw a tree. It had the diameter of a man’s waist. It was tough, robust, firm, durable, and resilient. Its roots and trunk were undoubtedly strong, as the tall tree had stood there for many, many years.
One word came to his mind, obstruction.
Viers curled his body to the side, his left hand was holding the katana’s sheath and his right was hovering just an inch above the handle.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He felt his consciousness reaching out to his entire body, every muscle, every bone, every drop of blood.
He knew what he wanted.
Mind and body moved with one purpose, joined in one purpose.
Viers slashed. The katana had left its sheath, right arm fully extended. The blade was fixed in the air for the wielder’s body was as still as a statue.
The tree had a slit on its body. Slowly, oh so slowly, it slid diagonally.
The tree fell, loud noise, birds flew in surprise. And yet Viers looked at the piece of metal in his hand as if he was having an epiphany.
This is it! This is what I seek!
Viers broke into a run. He had a spark in his head, a picture, an ideal. He feared it would melt and disappear unless he acted quickly.
He stopped in front of a tree. The same kind as the last one but bigger, three times as much.
Viers made the same posture but his Victa was blaring full force. The fallen leaves near his feet were cleared away by the wind pressure he unintentionally created.
Viers was preparing to unleash a slash with the full might of his power so he didn’t hold his Victa back.
Blue aura covered his body, an aura that would make people suffocate if they were too close in his vicinity.
Viers wasn’t satisfied. He had reached this stage before but he wanted to take it a step further. More refined, more… honed.
And he manifested that intent in the real world.
Not only using his body but also with his spirit, Viers drew the katana on his waist in the most perfect motion he’d ever done before. No Victa was wasted. Every drop of his power was contained in that motion of acute severing.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Flashing sound of metal, the weighty feedback on the hand, and the deep exhilaration from the heart.
The katana was wreathed in a blue aura. Not with water because Cut the Crap wasn’t an elemental Arte. It was the color of Viers’ aura, seeped into the Arte. Nevertheless, no one would underestimate Viers’ strike if they witnessed it.
It was as if Viers made a razor-sharp cut on the space itself.
A simple, thin blue line lingered on reality and disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Viers put his katana back in its sheath. The click that the sword made when the sheathing was complete became the signal. The tree was no longer connected to its lower part and followed the laws of gravity. The shockwave produced as the wooden titan met the earth caused Viers’ clothes to sway backward. Viers enjoyed that sensation very much.
Sharpness. Sharpness beyond compare. That is what I want in my swordsmanship.
“…Boram,” Viers suddenly said.
“Yes, Master?” Boram’s voice came from Viers’ back.
“The target is coming. Prepare yourself.”
“Y-yes!” Boram gripped the handle of his hammer tightly.
From the forest’s direction, it seemed like the trees moved. Creatures were shaking the crown of the trees. Boram laid his eyes on them soon enough, on the big-eared monkeys. Ears so big they seemed to have three heads. They were only a little bit bigger than normal monkeys and only Level 0. There must have been twenty of them, not that many. Boram felt relief because he was the one tasked with fighting them.
“Mustsilent Monkeys. Their ears are very sensitive to sounds, to the point that they hate loud noises with a vengeance, especially in their territory. They have bred too much and the quest is to cull them. You can handle it, yes?”
“Yes Master,” Boram had a fire of confidence in his heart.
“Since I made such a loud noise, the whole big ears happy family might be coming here. That is just the first group. If you don’t want to be swarmed by one or two hundred monkeys, better make quick work of this rabble,” Viers sneered.
And Boram’s confidence was doused by the ice-cold water of his horrible master.
The pack of silent monkeys with angry eyes cared not for Boram’s plight and pounced on him with teeth and claws.
Viers allowed the twelve-year-old slave to fall asleep as soon as they returned to camp. He had wounds all over his body but nothing fatal, Viers made sure of that. He even discreetly took action to prevent Boram from suffering fatal strikes.
Boram fought valiantly, he had swung his hammer as if there was no tomorrow but the blasted monkeys just kept coming. The eerily silent monkeys finally overwhelmed him at the fourth wave.
Viers watched the fight while being protected by a water sphere of his own conjuring. As an Arte from a Level 2, the barrier stood unflinching from the assault of the monkeys. After Boram was pushed to the brink of collapse, Viers took action and finished the quest. The forest had a hundred fewer Mustsilent Monkeys now.
As Boram's master, not only in the matter of slavery, Viers healed most of his wounds and bandaged the rest. A few scratch wounds would do well to remind him of this lesson for the next few days. He made a simple meal for himself and Boram after he woke up. Brownie was grazing lazily near the camp. He stroked the mare’s neck and offered an apple which she took with a happy whinnying.
While letting Boram rest, he recalled his earlier swordsmanship and went to the White Flowers Meadow.
“I have a grand announcement,” Viers said to the girls.
“Yes?” Clarissa asked.
“As you all know, I have no martial teacher and my swordsmanship is self-taught. Therefore I’ll create my own sword style!”
“…Ooo kay?” Paina didn’t really know how to reply.
Viers made a grin that split his face ear to ear.
“It's gonna be glorious. I call it, Suiten Mitsurugi-ryuu!”
If a crow existed in Viers’ realm of consciousness, its cry would be heard now to fill the awkward silence.
“Lord Viers, what language is that?”
“Doesn’t matter. It means Water Heaven Govern Sword Style!”
Viers paused, waiting for their reaction.
“Thank you Paina! I now formally added its first technique, Cut the Crap!”
“I’ve been wondering about this for a long time. Do you really name your Arte that?” Clarissa was piqued.
“Of course. What’s the problem?”
It was his first self-created Arte, basically it was a quick draw technique. It could also be done without sheathing the sword although the power would go down. Now that he has a katana, the quick draw would be smoother than using a common straight sword he used before.
In Viers’ opinion, whether it was a sea splitting cut, sun cutter sword, or a dimension slash, ultimately, they were all a slash. A stroke of the blade. Viers would continue infusing and improving this Arte with all the martial attainment he had until he could cut all creations merely with one swing of his sword.
One day, I want to cut down pompous gods and devils while shouting Cut the Crap on the top of my lungs. While they are looking down on me and delivering exposition with an I-am-holier-than-thou attitude… How glorious that would be.
Viers magnanimously ignored the amusement in Clarissa’s eyes.
“So what’s your sword style's core essence, Lord Viers?”
“To kill, period!” Viers stressed.
“Doesn’t every martial style or technique do that?” Paina said the obvious.
“Well… to kill efficiently. With speed and power. Coming down on the enemy like the wrath of God. Offense is the best defense. That… sort of thing.”
Why the lukewarm reaction?
“I don’t doubt your power Viers but you need to work on your sales pitch.” Paina went away.
“As long as it gets the job done. Do your best,” Clarissa was also disinterested.
Strange, it seemed so much better in my mind.
“I think it’s great,” Farley, the only one remaining, tried to feign interest. It would have worked too if Viers couldn’t sense her true mood. She really was a good liar.
“Water Heaven… nice name. Are you intending to control all the water under the sky, Lord Viers?”
Viers was grateful for the idea and replied with a devilish grin.
“That was not my intention when making that name but now that you mention it, why not? Nobody has a claim on all of them, right? Might as well be me.”