Beon had walked the path of swordsmanship since he was a child.
Not as a hobby.
Not as a game.
But as a way of life.
Every day he trained—cutting, stepping, breathing, repeating—pushing past his limits until pain became familiar and exhaustion meaningless.
By the time he reached his prime, he had already gone further than most ever would.
People didn't call him a genius anymore.
They called him something else.
An ascended being.
His sword was so fast that the world itself failed to realize it had been cut.
By the time sound followed motion, the result was already decided.
Speed wasn't just his strength—it was his identity.
He was the founder of the Hidden Blade Technique, the fastest swordsman alive, a true sword supreme whose name carried weight even among masters.
With that strength came pride.
Beon was not cruel by nature. His calm demeanor came from discipline, not arrogance.
