Paradise had deviated from his patterns for the first time in as long as Erin could remember. While he didn’t have a set route for his migrations between Aicenith and Brogora, he had generally moved back and forth across the sea continuously.
Now he was circling around a small area in the middle of the sea. He had previously stopped eating, and that hadn’t changed… but he seemed healthy enough at least. The other behavior was perhaps a bit more worrying, though Erin was beginning to understand his desires.
He would dive down to the deepest part of the sea, then build up momentum as he swam towards the surface, breaching and launching himself into the air. Erin got the feeling that he began to linger in the air for just a few moments longer every time.
Obviously it caused quite a bit of commotion among the sect and other residents. Visitors no doubt would have been concerned as well, except the number of individuals that came to Paradise had fallen over the years. While there had been many who stopped by out of necessity in the middle of a sailing voyage, such times were gone. And the inconsistent location of Paradise didn’t make him any good for planned tourism. Since he’d gone away from his normal habits, it was mostly just the permanent residents that remained with him.
Phoenixes flew around him, encouraging his attempts even if he didn’t clearly communicate what he actually wished. Those phoenixes that survived beyond the destruction of the Sylanis Cluster’s Ultimate Phoenix Sect had first taken up shelter with Paradise, but they had long since expanded around Ceretos and to other planets. But the original handful refused to leave him behind, and their lifespans were most likely longer than cultivators in general.
Erin knew that Paradise wanted to fly, but he didn’t seem to want help. Anton had given him his initial experience, but any time Erin tried to assist Paradise gently rejected her control of the shared energy. It seemed he was learning a new application- different from his main one of bombarding targets with vast amounts of water. Erin had the feeling that he would somehow succeed one day, but she was uncertain if he wanted to stop there. But she planned to continue supporting him in whatever he intended.
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Every day, Chikere drew closer to the core of the Limitless Edge Sect. Every day was more challenging, with more foes of a greater caliber coming to face her. Worse yet, she was running out of blades. She only had her fifty strongest left, and that was being generous as some of those in the middle of that pack had been destroyed with others moved up in rank.
The logical thing to do was stop her crusade. But it wasn’t Chikere’s job to be the logical one, and she knew that if she did something inside of her would break. The swords carried by the Limitless Blade Sect were as perfect as she had ever seen, and she had to have them. The fact that they disappeared upon the death of their disciples didn’t matter. She would find some way, if only she kept searching.
Their tactics continued to confuse her. The disciples seemed almost incompetent in their individual ways, making obvious mistakes. And yet, she was barely able to exploit those mistakes- and she found herself struggling more the further she went.
Which was exactly why she had to continue on her path. It was only when she was challenged that she would grow.
When she arrived on their core planet, she was surprised to find there was no barrier to break through. Not around the planet, nor around the core buildings of the sect. And even as she walked through their gates, there was no one to stop her. Not there, at least. But she could sense up ahead was her target. Both a person, and the true blade. If there was any way to take it from their grasp, this would be the place.
Chikere couldn’t help but tremble as she approached. Some small amount of it was fatigue, built up after constant battle on her journeys. But the rest of it was excitement and anticipation. And perhaps another part of it… fear. The closer she got, the more she could feel the full power of her foe.
Her blades danced around her as she approached. Chikere couldn’t quite tell if her opponent was at the peak of Augmentation or a single step into Domination, and she didn’t care. She stepped forward into the great hall of a grand castle. Or at least what would have been a grand castle if it was not bare of all adornments. It was even missing ornamental swords on the wall.
In front of Chikere, surprisingly, stood a woman. Obviously she herself knew that women were just as capable in the arena of cultivation and combat as others, but the sorts drawn to the blade tended to be different. Furthermore, she had expected her opponent to look like… more. Instead, she was very plain. Neither young nor old, neither terribly scarred nor beautiful. Her skin was dark, darker than Chikere’s. In most other respects she fell into the middle of the pack.
But of course, it was more strange to expect something different. Because one dedicated to the sword wouldn’t bother with such vanities as changing how they looked.
“Why are you here?” the woman asked.
“I’m here to take your sword,” Chikere declared.
“Is that all?” the woman asked.
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“What else would there be?”
“A reasonable answer,” the woman said, lifting the arm that had been dangling at her side, the perfect blade pointed towards Chikere. “Better than those who seek a bounty on my head, at least.”
The first move was one that Chikere had seen a thousand times, no, tens of thousands. A simple thrust that was just as simply countered with a straightforward parry. Or at least it should have been, but the three blades Chikere dedicated to the task found themselves insufficient. Two crossed each other and the third pressed its side against them from behind, supporting their power. Chikere’s mental hands twisted them to wrench the attack off course.
She was only successful in the barest sense of the word. Despite the sharp edges of her enemy’s blade being angled away from her own weapons, they were still cut through upon impact. A hole appeared in the pillar behind Chikere to her left as the thrust was directed just off target.
The following exchanges continued in the same manner, whether Chikere was on offense or defense. Two dozen blades swarmed her opponent, but their paths were all intercepted, the woman moving with perfect and practiced grace yet at the same time in impossible and incorrect patterns. Chikere knew that it wasn’t possible for the woman to step back and twist her body to avoid the attacks, and yet it happened. She blocked every angle of movement, but the woman always countered with the one thing nobody should ever try. Ninety-nine times out of one hundred, such movements should have gotten her killed. No, perhaps more than that. How could she get practical experience with such a thing?
Or with any of her moves, really. Every stab, slash, sweep, and strike was something Chikere knew was flawed and easy to counter… or it should have been, if she could have anticipated it. Instead, each exchange lost her a blade. The one from Everheart’s moon tomb that had grown on a tree was not really capable of battling on the level of Augmentation cultivators, but it had still been a good one, around the twenty-fifth rank. It was sliced in two, from point to hilt.
Even Sadiq’s blades were unworthy. He had forged Chikere many blades made from the materials of a cultivator’s blade along with their essence, most lesser than the tournament prize masterpiece he’d made but still of the highest quality. Yet one of those was cut apart like paper.
Locks of Chikere’s hair fell to the ground as rivulets of blood dripped down her head, her arms, and generally all over her body. She was going to die. Her weapons weren’t good enough.
Or perhaps it was herself that was insufficient. Blaming the blades seemed hardly fair.
There was only one way to win. She would have to transcend her own limits. That was what she was here for, after all. So she continued to clash weapons, looking for an opening even as her tournament sword had a slice taken off of its edge.
When the time came, Chikere’s hand flashed up. Her right hand, the whole arm a replacement for the one she lost in the same event that had connected her to Sadiq. Her fingers closed around the sides of the sword, suppressing her opponent’s energy. She twisted, striking the woman’s wrist with her left hand and disarming the blade.
Chikere knew this one was real. No, all of the Limitless Blade Sect’s weapons had been just as real, as they were this sword. But with it in her hands, it could not disappear from her grasp. She cut across the throat of her enemy… then looked into her empty hands.
There was one exception, of course. Her opponent had to have a greater will, dominant instinct for fighting with a blade, or greater technique. In this case, Chikere had the feeling it was all of them as she was unable to hold onto the weapon even for a single attack.
Her remaining blades crossed in front of her as the woman swept the Limitless Blade down upon her. A dozen crossed swords fought together… and lost. All they were able to buy Chikere was just a bit of momentum as she caught the blade in her palm, the impossibly complex machinery nearly severed in half.
And then… the battle was over. Both combatants knew it. Because without a single sword to her name, she couldn’t be a swordsman of any kind, let alone a swordmaster or grandmaster.
She looked at the cut in her hand, the mechanisms sending artificial pain responded to her body. Then she wandered away in a daze.
The last time she had been defeated so thoroughly, it had been by Swordmaster Rahayu. It had happened in an instant instead of over the course of a few minutes, but here the results were more devastating in a certain manner. She would have much preferred to have her heart pierced than to be without her swords.
She looked back at the shards of her blades as she reached the threshold of the grand hall, pieces of rubble and stone littering the area along with them. She reached out, intending to call them to her. But of course, they would not come. Because they were no longer swords, and she was no longer a person who deserved to control swords.
With nowhere to go, she simply walked down the main path of the sect, no destination in mind. But just because the grandmaster had let her go did not mean that she was truly free. If it had been disciples of the Limitless Blade Sect she might have been able to defeat them. Or perhaps she might have fallen to the weakest member, as she was. It was difficult to say. Instead, she found a number of different individuals descending on her. Mere Integration cultivators, the sort of odds she would have scoffed at a day before, when she was able to defeat even a single opponent in battle instead of losing. When she could fight with swords, or at all.
“Grandmaster Chikere of Xankeshan and the Scarlet Alliance,” said one of them. “That is who you are, isn’t it?”
“... Everything is true but that first part,” she said. She’d certainly come from Xankeshan. She had friends in the Scarlet Alliance. But Grandmaster? Not anymore. Nor was she sure if she was even Chikere, now.
“You’re coming with us to answer some questions.”
She didn’t resist. In fact, she didn’t do anything at all. She didn’t think about the shackles placed upon her as she was carried away, because they didn’t matter. Shackles were meant to keep people from acting as they pleased, and Chikere didn’t have anything she either wanted to do or could do. So they didn’t mean anything.