Peter gritted his teeth as Jane was flung aside by another Darkness Incarnate, her body crashing into the ground with a force that made the earth tremble. His eyes darted between her limp form and the creature that stood in front of him. Jane was fighting her own battle now, and it was up to him to deal with this one. The sheer presence of the Darkness Incarnate was oppressive, a suffocating weight that seemed to press down on his chest, but he couldn't allow himself to falter.
Not now.
Peter was already an 8th tier swordsman, a level of mastery most would kill for, but it didn't feel like enough. The creature's attacks were relentless, its massive tentacles lashing out at him with a speed and precision that defied its size. Each strike was fast—too fast. Even with his aura active, Peter could barely keep up. His sword met the darkness with a clang, but each parry left him rattled, the vibrations traveling through his arms and into his bones.
He tried to move, to slip past the creature's defenses, but its tentacles seemed to be everywhere at once, blocking his every attempt to get close. Every time he thought he found an opening, the darkness closed in again, cutting off his path.
This is insane. Peter's mind raced as he struggled to keep his balance. How am I supposed to beat this thing?
His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the fight pressing down on him. He was used to battles—trained for them, even—but this was something else entirely. No matter how hard he fought, how much he focused, the creature always seemed one step ahead. Its strikes were precise, brutal, and almost instinctual, like it had no other purpose but to destroy him.
I can't let this continue. Jane...
But then something flickered in the back of his mind—a memory, a flash of Josephine's voice cutting through the chaos. Her words echoed in his head, reminding him of the lessons she had drilled into him during their countless hours of training.
—-
Peter had been exhausted, drenched in sweat as he swung his sword again and again, each strike falling short of Josephine's expectations. She watched him, arms crossed, her gaze unyielding.
"You're too tense," Josephine had said, her voice calm but firm. "In battle, tension will only slow you down. It makes you predictable."
Peter had stopped, panting as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
"That's exactly when you need to be calm. Panic clouds judgment. Even when you know what to do, if you're nervous, you'll mess it up."
She had stepped closer then, her eyes locking onto his. "Focus, Peter. When you're calm, you can see the openings. You can predict the next move."
—-
Peter blinked, pulling himself back to the present. Josephine was right. He was too focused on trying to overpower the creature, too focused on its speed and strength. But the truth was, it wasn't invincible. It wasn't impossible to beat. He just had to find the right moment.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. His heart was still pounding, but his mind began to clear. He shifted his stance, sword at the ready, and focused on the creature in front of him.
Watch it. Don't rush. Find the gap.
The Darkness Incarnate lashed out again, its tentacles whipping toward him with deadly precision. But this time, Peter was ready. He sidestepped the attack, his movements smooth, almost fluid. He wasn't trying to overpower it now—he was waiting.
The creature roared, its dark form twisting as it lunged at him again, but Peter was calm. He could see it now, the rhythm in its movements, the slight hesitation between each strike. There—a gap. Small, but it was there.
Peter's eyes narrowed as he focused on the creature's form. This thing... it's not alive. It's not thinking. It's just... moving. Like a puppet made of darkness.
Its speed was unnatural, yes, but there was no intent behind its attacks, no real strategy. It was just raw power, pure destruction. And power alone wasn't enough to win.
Peter tightened his grip on his sword, his aura flaring as he stepped forward. The creature lunged again, its tentacles slicing through the air, but Peter was already moving. He sidestepped the first strike, parried the second, and then—there it was. The gap.
With a burst of speed, Peter surged forward, his sword cutting through the air with precision. The blade connected, slicing through the darkness with a hiss. The creature recoiled, its form flickering as if it hadn't expected the blow.
Peter didn't stop. He couldn't. His body moved on instinct, his sword flashing as he struck again and again, each blow more precise than the last. He could feel it now—the shift, the moment when everything clicked into place. His aura flared brighter, his movements becoming faster, sharper.
Tier Eight. He could feel it, the surge of power that came with breaking through. His body moved with a grace and strength that felt almost unreal, his sword cutting through the creature's form like it was made of paper.
The Darkness Incarnate let out a guttural roar, its form twisting and writhing as Peter's strikes tore through it. But even as it tried to retaliate, Peter was already one step ahead. He dodged, parried, and struck with precision, his mind clear and focused.
The creature lashed out one final time, its tentacles crashing down toward him with all the force of a collapsing mountain. But Peter was calm. His eyes locked onto the creature's core, and with a swift, powerful strike, he drove his sword straight through it.