"Luna," I called, though she was already there beside me. Her presence was both calming and electrifying—a violet-haired qilin with galaxy-like eyes that gleamed with ancient wisdom and raw power. Her smaller stature did nothing to diminish the overwhelming authority she exuded.
"It's as I feared," she murmured, her voice resonating like a soft chime in a cathedral. "Summon Nyxthar, Arthur. You cannot face him without it."
"Nyxthar?" I asked, my breath hitching as I glanced between her and the gate.
Her gaze didn't waver. "If I'm correct, that gate… it's no ordinary summoning. He's calling forth a dragon."
The word hit me like a blow. A dragon. A creature whose name alone carried the weight of myths and devastation. Even as Valen's dark magic rippled around us, I felt the growing presence of something far more ancient and terrible than him.
"You want me to use the sword now?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. My hand tightened on the hilt of my current blade as I felt the whisper of Nyxthar's latent power stir deep within me, waiting.
Luna's violet eyes met mine, steady and unrelenting. "You wield a Legendary-grade artifact, Arthur. Use it, or you'll lose before this battle truly begins."
Valen's voice cut through the growing storm. "Face me, Arthur Nightingale," he growled, his daggers gleaming with an unnatural light. Behind him, the gate shuddered as something massive began to stir within its depths. "Let's see if you're as extraordinary as they say."
I exhaled slowly, forcing calm into my limbs. The air around us quivered, heavy with anticipation, as the gate loomed higher and higher, its aura pressing down on the battlefield like the weight of a collapsing star.
"Fine," I said, letting go of my hesitation. My voice steadied as I called out, "Nyxthar—answer my call and come to me."
The world shifted. My surroundings seemed to fold inward as a radiant light ignited in my hands, its brilliance cutting through the oppressive darkness. As the glow solidified into a blade, I felt Nyxthar's weight—not heavy, but infinite. Its edge shimmered with starlight, and its hilt thrummed like the pulse of a living heart.
"Valen, do you still want to continue?" I asked, my voice cutting through the dense, oppressive air like the edge of Nyxthar itself. The sword in my hand thrummed with life, a resonance so pure it swept away the shadows curling in Valen's wake. It didn't merely glow—it blazed, casting a radiant light that made the very darkness flinch.
Valen stood unmoved, his expression a mask of cold resolve. He didn't answer. Instead, his hand curled into a fist, knuckles cracking like the first splinters in a dam. Behind him, the gate groaned, its ancient mechanisms grinding into motion.
The doors opened.
A roar split the air, raw and ancient, shaking the ground beneath my feet. From the depths of the gate emerged the bone dragon, its immense form clawing its way into the world. Shards of necrotic energy clung to its skeletal wings, and its hollow eyes burned with an unholy light that seemed to pierce through flesh and soul alike.
"ROAR!" Its cry echoed across the battlefield, an unrelenting wave of power that made even the air seem brittle.
"I'll handle the dragon," Luna said, stepping forward. Her amethyst hair glimmered under the light of Nyxthar, and her galaxy-like eyes burned with determination.
I hesitated, glancing at her. "Are you sure? You're not at full strength."
She gave me a look that could flatten a mountain. "Arthur, it's a bone dragon. Not a true dragon. I'll be fine."
Her words had an edge of humor, but I didn't miss the fire beneath them. Luna wasn't one for empty boasts. If she said she could manage, I'd trust her. With a nod, I turned my focus back to Valen.
"The Martial King's sword," Valen said, his voice low and deliberate, his gaze fixed on Nyxthar. For a moment, the weight of his scrutiny almost seemed to match the overwhelming presence of the gate behind him.
I didn't respond. Words felt unnecessary.
Not all Legendary-grade artifacts were created equal, and we both knew it. Valen's Black Heart pulsed in his chest, the artifact giving him command over a vast reservoir of mana to fuel his necromantic summons. It was a fearsome tool, one that had secured his place as a force of terror. But Nyxthar—my blade—was something else entirely. It wasn't merely a weapon; it was a legacy, crafted as though the heavens themselves had poured their essence into its form. It stood at the precipice of Mythical-grade, its power brushing against the divine.
And Valen could see it.
But he wouldn't back down.
"Let's end this," I said, raising Nyxthar, its light blazing brighter as if responding to my intent. The air shifted, heavy with unspoken promises of destruction.
Valen's lips twitched into a grim smile, his daggers spinning into his hands, alive with the dark astral energy that seemed to warp reality around him.
Above us, the bone dragon lunged for Luna. She met its charge without hesitation, her form a streak of violet light as she leapt to intercept. The clash of their powers was deafening, a symphony of ancient fury and celestial grace.
But I didn't look. I couldn't afford to.
Valen was already moving.
He came at me like a storm, his daggers a blur of shadow and steel. My body reacted instinctively, Nyxthar rising to meet his assault. Our weapons collided, and the world seemed to hold its breath. The sheer force of our clash rippled outward, shattering the ground beneath us.
Valen's daggers whirled in arcs of shadow, each strike calculated, each feint deadly. His shadow armor pulsed, feeding off the darkness of his summons—wraiths, specters, and nightmarish creatures that clawed at the air between us.
"You've improved," Valen admitted, his voice carrying the faintest trace of approval, though his attacks showed no mercy. "But improvement isn't enough, Arthur. Prove you've earned the right to wield that blade."
"That blade chose me," I replied, my voice steady. Nyxthar hummed in my hand, its resonant energy surging in response to my will. It wasn't just a weapon—it was an extension of myself, and I was finally beginning to understand the depths of its power.
I moved, Nyxthar blazing through the air, carving radiant arcs that cleaved through Valen's encroaching shadows. His summons disintegrated with each strike, their essence scattered like leaves in a storm. Yet, Valen was far from helpless. His daggers danced, parrying, redirecting, and occasionally grazing my defenses. He was a master of the battlefield, using every ounce of his power to create openings, but I refused to let him dictate the flow of this fight.
"Come now," Valen said, his voice sharp. "You've fought shadow and flame, steel and magic. But you've yet to face death itself."
With a flourish, his shadow armor surged outward, a tidal wave of obsidian spikes rising from the ground, each laced with the venom of his necromantic will. I countered, spinning Nyxthar in a tight arc, the blade shimmering as I poured astral energy into it. The spikes shattered before they reached me, fragments raining harmlessly to the ground.
But Valen wasn't finished.
His domain twisted, the sky above us turning a blood-red hue, the air itself thick with the oppressive weight of his magic. The ground beneath my feet felt unstable, as though it were trembling under the weight of something ancient and malevolent.
"You've forced my hand," Valen said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "Shadow Dominion: Eternal Abyss!"
The world seemed to fracture around me, consumed by an endless darkness. I could feel his Unity technique—his mastery over domain and summons—reaching its zenith. His power filled every corner of the battlefield, pressing against me, testing my resolve.
But I didn't falter. Instead, I smiled.
"Is that all?" I said, my voice cutting through the suffocating silence of his domain. I raised Nyxthar high, channeling everything I had into it. Astral energy surged, and with it, something deeper—a ripple in the very fabric of space and time.
The breakthrough came not as a roar but as a whisper, a subtle shift in the flow of my mana. High Immortal-rank fell behind me like a discarded shell, and I stepped into the realm of the peak. My mana pool expanded, its clarity and power refined to a level I had never imagined.
Valen's eyes widened as I moved. Nyxthar became a blur, its strikes no longer bound by the laws of the world. This was the true power of my Grade 4 art, Spectral Sword. Each swing of Nyxthar tore through the darkness, creating rifts of radiant light that defied Valen's control.
"You've relied on your summons and shadow to maintain dominance," I said, my voice calm but cutting. "But you never understood how limited that power truly is."
My strikes overwhelmed him. For every shadow he summoned, I unleashed a wave of radiant light that consumed it. For every attack he launched, I countered with precision, breaking through his defenses. And then, as Nyxthar gleamed with brilliance, I activated its true nature.
An edgeless blade.
Infinite edges.
Each strike carved not only through Valen's defenses but through the fabric of his domain itself. The blood-red sky shattered like glass, the obsidian spikes crumbling to dust. The oppressive weight of his shadow magic faded, replaced by something pure and overwhelming.
A throne emerged—a radiant construct of platinum and gold, seated upon a platform of shimmering white. Around it, the space was bathed in light so pure it felt as though it could cleanse the soul itself.
"What is this?" Valen gasped, his voice trembling. He staggered back, his daggers hanging limply in his hands as he looked around, his control over the battlefield completely severed.
"This is my True Domain," I said, my voice resonating with an authority I didn't know I possessed. I stepped forward, the light bending around me as though bowing in reverence. A seraphic figure appeared above, placing a golden crown upon my head.
True Domain: Divine Emperor's Throne.