"AAAHHH!"
Thud—
"Kugh!"
Kyorin struck the ground with brutal force, the impact wrenching the air from his lungs as he slid across a surface that felt slick and unnatural — like glass that breathed.
For a moment, he lay motionless, dazed, the taste of metal sharp in the air. Then he pushed himself up. His eyes adjusted — and what he saw stole the breath he had only just regained.
A lifeless expanse stretched beneath a sky the color of weathered bone — heavy, oppressive, and hollow.
The ground beneath him was a broken lattice of ashen stone, crisscrossed with deep fractures that told of long-past violence. Stains — rust or blood, he couldn't be sure — clung to the cracks like old scars.
Scattered debris surrounded him: remnants of tools, shattered structures, fragments of something once whole.
And above — the sky was in ruins.
Colossal shards of black stone floated, defying gravity. Some pierced the earth like jagged fangs, while others hung suspended in twisted patterns — arches and pathways frozen midair, like ruins from a temple never meant for gods.
Among the wreckage, a few gnarled trees clung to ledges, their crimson-orange leaves glowing faintly — stubborn embers in a colorless world.
Everything was silent. Not the quiet of peace, but of something held in unnatural stillness — as if time itself had stopped breathing.
Kyorin rose slowly, a chill weaving through him.
"…This place," he murmured.
"Uhh... Ugh... brother..."
A familiar voice rasped behind him. Kyorin turned to see the Tacet Discord, who had also crashed down hard.
"Are you all right, little one?" he asked.
The TD groaned in pain — it had fallen from a great height, too.
"Tch," Kyorin clicked his tongue. This had to be an abduction. And whoever was behind it — they were strong. Incredibly strong.
His muscles tightened as his eyes darted around, searching for any opening, any exit — but none revealed themselves.
'I need to find a way out,' Kyorin thought, glancing around as time slipped away. He didn't fully grasp the situation, but he sensed that escaping as quickly as possible was crucial.
Then, a sudden idea struck him. Moving toward the TD, he gently touched it. The lotus symbol appeared in his eyes, and as Kyorin surveyed his surroundings, he was taken aback by the complexity of this wonder.
"This is..." At first, Kyorin wasn't sure how powerful the person who had kidnapped him was, but now he was certain—and the realization sent a chill down his spine.
The realm itself defied logic. Every part, every corner, seemed to be both an entrance and an exit in its own right.
But that was the catch. To leave, both the entrance and the exit doors had to be opened simultaneously. The question was — how?
Kyorin pondered the problem, struggling to figure out how to achieve this. Knowing his opponent was formidable, he had no guarantee he would survive. Yet, he realized a strong enemy wouldn't capture him unless...
"I'll be used as a bargaining chip," he concluded quickly, teeth clenched.
"Rover," he whispered, a sinking realization settling in — he was likely just a pawn in a larger game, about to be used as leverage against her.
It was only a suspicion, but not without weight. Rover was enigmatic, powerful, and clearly tied to influential figures — lending credibility to his fears.
"What a filthy move," he growled.
Immediately, he sat down, legs crossed, and assumed a meditative posture. Closing his eyes, he focused his breath and thought, 'Please work.'
The next time Kyorin opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by the graveyard of failed ascendants and the murmurs of the mad.
"Hehe, back for more, are you?" one sneered.
Kyorin seized one of the stalks, absorbing the first, but it wasn't sufficient.
"Oh, looks like you've finally accepted—"
Before it could finish, Kyorin grabbed it, draining its life experience. Yet...
'This isn't enough. I need something new to break free from the realm I'm trapped in,' he thought, moving on to another stalk. What he gained was merely experience and a slight enhancement of his basic attacks.
"Again," he growled, taking another.
"Hmm, he's acting a little strange," one stalk whispered as Kyorin grabbed it and absorbed it quickly.
"Oi, why have you gotten so greedy all of a sudden?" another whispered as he took the next one, absorbing the previous's experience.
'This isn't right. Why can't I learn anything new, even though I can see all these techniques?' He complained.
Despite witnessing countless skills, Kyorin found himself stuck—unable to grasp any new technique beyond Muddy Origins, his basic attack sequence, feeling trapped behind a wall he couldn't break through.
'Tch' gritting his teeth he want on a bit of a frenzy absorbing his fifth one as the stalks were growing a bit anxious now.
"Seriously, what's happened to you?" came the whisper.
Kyorin grabbed it, gaining some experience.
"Can you please stop?!"
He absorbed the sixth.
"We might be able to give you some insight if you're really that troubled."
The seventh followed.
He went on — eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth... steadily pushing all the way to fifty.
After absorbing the life experiences and knowledge of so many — dozens upon dozens — Kyorin's mind was starting to be overwhelmed. His brain was flooded with so much information that he unknowingly started to bleed from his nose.
Despite accumulating all that wisdom, he still couldn't break through the bottleneck holding him back. This barrier capped his growth, a ceiling that prevented him from advancing.
By now, his basic attacks had effectively reached their peak, as his understanding had deepened significantly — enough to inflict serious damage, so long as his body met the necessary conditions.
"Lost one."
A frail, dying stalk called out to him, "Absorb me — perhaps my life holds the knowledge you're searching for."
Without a moment's hesitation, Kyorin — like a hungry wraith — reached out and touched the stalk — and his vision was instantly flooded with white.
He was pulled into the memories of a man whose path had been shaped not only through learning, but through release.
This man had perfected a single discipline to the point it became instinct — the core of who he was. But when he tried to expand beyond it, he found himself blocked.
It wasn't that he lacked ability — rather, the room for growth was already occupied by what he had mastered.
Years passed, and still the man was unable to grasp anything beyond what he already knew — locked within the bounds of a single art. But then, one day, something unforeseen occurred.
He started to lose touch with that mastery — not in a tragic or deteriorative way, but as if his mind was clearing itself to make room.
He became ignorant of his own power. It was still within him, but no longer at the forefront of his awareness. This forgetfulness wasn't renunciation — it was adaptation.
By letting go of what he consciously knew, he opened himself to learning anew. Every time he immersed himself in a new art or skill, the former ones receded — not erased, just tucked away.
However, those techniques were never truly gone.
When urgency struck — when instinct demanded action — the old techniques returned, not as calculated thoughts, but as natural reactions.
He became a vessel in flux, endlessly cycling through loss and rediscovery. His evolution wasn't built on piling knowledge higher and higher, but by constantly clearing space for fresh understanding — and calling forth the old ones.
This was the life of the ignorant sage.
Remorsefully, the man met the same fate as so many others — undone by the illusion of transcendence. Yet Kyorin, having witnessed the man's life, couldn't help but wonder, 'How blind was that version of me?'
Kyorin's eyes opened — not into the void, but back into the strange realm that held him captive. Though only three minutes and fifty-one seconds had passed, he had lived through fifty-one different lives.
"Cough—" he sputtered, blood spilling from his lips as his heart pounded violently, struggling to adapt to the flood of new experience.
His comprehension deepened — the surge was overwhelming — but then, just as suddenly, the wild heartbeat that thrashed like an unbroken stallion settled into calm stillness.
His mind emptied, the flood of memories drifting quietly into the background — all but one. A single moment remained vivid: the time Kyorin had wished to help Rover.
But this time, it was different. He wouldn't allow himself to become a bargaining chip. He refused to be a burden to her.
If he was to escape this realm, he needed to create a technique — one powerful enough to shatter the very fabric of this world and set him free.
Once more, his mind fell into silence — emptied completely — as his instincts took over. They guided him to a vision, simple and ordinary: a lotus bud slowly blooming, each petal unfolding all at once.
And yet, within that quiet act of blossoming, Kyorin glimpsed an entire universe — a revelation — the answer his imprisoned self had been searching for. A new technique — one that mirrored the blooming of a lotus.
"Phew..." Kyorin exhaled softly, just as his heart suddenly surged into a frenzy, pounding so violently that blood burst forth from all seven of his orifices.
"Haah." Rising to his feet, Kyorin held the TD on his arm, and summoned his sword. "I'll be relying on you," he whispered through bloodstained teeth, his vision turning red as his eyes welled — not with tears, but with blood.
He closed his eyes briefly, summoning every ounce of strength.
[Resonance Skill: Bloom Break]
Then, pointing his sword upward toward the sky, a massive, radiant lotus burst to life beneath him, its petals glowing with ethereal light, encircling him and the TD like a cage restraining the release of power.
Trapped inside this colossal bloom, Kyorin felt the Resonance pulse through his body. Once it reached its peak, he drew back his sword slightly before thrusting it into the sky. At this gesture, the lotus began to unfurl.
The lotus unfolded, its translucent petals slicing through the air, releasing waves of razor-sharp strikes that radiated outward like a thousand hidden blades.
The petals spread wide, each one a deadly arc, sending invisible slashes rippling through the space beyond. The air shimmered with the soft rustle of petals opening—a beautiful yet terrifying symphony of destruction.
Though it was but one simple thrust of his sword, the realm was struck with a thousand slashes, each seeming to break the very fabric of the space it was made from.
Lines tore through the air and space itself, as if the realm had been being sliced apart by those invisible razor edges, followed by the sharp sound of cracking.
Crack — Crack — Shatter.
***
"AARGHH!"
In the real world, Scar thrashed in agony, screaming like a madman. 'Who broke my Elysium?!' he thought, eyes wild with fury, and disbelief.
His personal domain—Elysium—had been damaged. Shaken, he muttered to himself, 'Impossible. To destroy it, one would have to attack from both inside the Elysium and outside—from the real world.'
Desperately, Scar tried to reestablish a link to the portion of Elysium that had been damaged. But— "What the hell?!" he roared in disbelief. That portion of the realm lay in disarray, completely beyond repair.
It was as though something razor-sharp had sliced through the space, erasing the very threads that held it together.
And now, without those connective strands, the space itself had lost its structural integrity — meaning, that portion of the Elysium no longer existed.
"Who did this?!" Scar snarled, the madness twisting across his face.
Rover, watching him spiral into rage, instinctively drew her blade, ready for anything.
But then, faint thudding sounds reached her ears — wet, uneven, and sickening. The coppery scent of blood spread into the air.
"... R–Rover..." a weak voice called out.
She turned—and her eyes widened in horror. "Kyorin!" she gasped, rushing toward the figure staggering in the aftermath of Bloom Break.
Kyorin barely stood, swaying as if the air itself pressed down on him. Blood poured from all his orifices painting his face in streaks of red.
His skin was deathly pale, laced with glowing cracks of gold beneath — like a porcelain shell on the verge of breaking.
Each breath was shallow, wet with blood, his limbs trembling from the toll of the technique. His sword arm hung limp, fingers weakly curled around the hilt, using it as a crutch just to remain upright.
But his eyes were the most haunting — soaked in blood, unfocused, as if seeing everything and nothing. Faint lotus light pulsed in his pupils, flickering like dying embers.
His body had paid the price. Torn muscles, strained tendons, and a flickering spiritual core — barely holding on.
And yet, he stood. Cracked, bleeding, shaking — but alive. Still breathing. Still there.
He looked around frantically, searching for someone—so much so that he completely ignored the man who had assaulted him the previous day.
"Where's Yangyang?" he asked urgently.
Rover paused. Truth be told, she didn't know either.
She simply pointed in a direction, and Kyorin — his eyes still bearing the flickering lotus symbol — adopted a stance similar to the one he had used earlier, though this time, his sword tip pointed forward instead of upward.
Furthermore, he held back this time, having realized that his previous attack had been too overwhelming for both himself and the strange space he was in.
This time, instead of the lotus engulfing his entire form, it merely coated the tip of his sword. Though it appeared insignificant, it was enough — he wasn't the only one assaulting that space.
[Resonance Skill (Ranged): Bloom Break]
He thrust his blade toward the spot Rover indicated, and the lotus transformed into a beam that shot forward, slicing through the area at impossible speed.
Kyorin had noticed faint ripples in the space, and the beam struck there before turning back into a lotus, unfolding and releasing a storm of cuts.
A narrow rift opened — just enough to assist Yangyang, who had been attacking the same point in her effort to break free.
"Huh—?" Yangyang gasped as she saw the realm split. But spotting Rover and Kyorin, the latter coughing up blood, she moved.
She escaped through the tear, shouting, "Kyorin, are you okay?"
Scar had witnessed the entire attack. His eyes burned with fury as he realized, 'So he was the one.'
He glared at Kyorin, but Kyorin, noticing the stare, only smiled and stepped forward with a thud as he calmly declared, "…I won't let you keep any bargaining chips."
That was all he managed to whisper before his body gave out, knees buckling as he collapsed to the ground.
Scar hurled his black cards at him, but they were swiftly deflected by Rover, who stepped in and said firmly, "I won't let you harm him."
"Too bad," Scar growled, eyes blazing with rage. "He has to die."
Another black door materialized behind Rover just as Kyorin's body began to rise, drawn toward it.
Rover's eyes widened in alarm, but before anything could happen, Scar felt a sharp sting in his head — a disruption flaring between his connection to Elysium.
Slash – Slash!
Two quick strikes echoed in succession. Scar turned to see another spatial rift tearing open in front of him — Kyorin's body now standing, unsteady but upright, having forged a new rift directly in front of the one Scar had created.
But unlike Scar's, which was firmly anchored to Elysium, Kyorin's rift remained unstable — an unanchored gateway now attempting to sync with the same realm.
"You bastard!" Scar roared as the two rifts, drawn to the same location in space, effectively fused into a single, convoluted doorframe.
Now, the path to Elysium was blocked. Anyone stepping into this portal would be entering and exiting the realm at the same instant — rendering the gateway useless.
"I'll kill you!" Scar roared, lunging forward — but Kyorin's body moved like a phantom, clashing against Scar's black card with the ring of steel.
Scar fought fiercely with his cards while Kyorin countered with his sword, and though their weapons met in rapid succession, it quickly became clear that Scar held the physical advantage.
He barely felt any real force behind Kyorin's strikes and sneered in confidence — until he caught a proper look at Kyorin's face.
"What?" His expression faltered.
Kyorin's eyes had rolled back, their whites cloudy and unfocused.
'I—Is he… unconscious?!' Scar thought in disbelief.
Somehow, Kyorin's body moved entirely on its own, guided by instinct alone — a vessel possessed by sheer will. He had become something uncanny — an unconscious wraith.
"Tch." Scar closed the distance with a swift slash of his card, but Kyorin effortlessly sidestepped.
In the blink of an eye, Fibonacci arcs flashed into existence—too fast to track.
Swish — Swish — Swish — Swish — Swish — Swish —
Scar did everything he could to defend himself, his arms a blur as the rapid clink of deflected blows echoed in the tight space between them.
Rover's breath was caught in her throat. She recognized that technique — it was the same one from the day before. But this time, something was different.
The strikes were sharper, faster, and deadlier. It was as if someone who had fully mastered the technique, someone who had pushed the sword swings to their very peak, was now wielding it.
'Is he really unconscious?' Scar wondered, eyes narrowing in disbelief as Kyorin suddenly stepped back, putting distance between them.
Without a word, Kyorin sheathed his sword and lowered his stance, his body twisting slightly — settling into a posture that resembled a quick-draw technique.
Energy gathered and condensed at the very tip of Kyorin's blade, humming with lethal precision.
[Resonance Skill (Ranged): Bloom Break]
In the next instant, he unsheathed it with impossible speed — so fast it blurred from sight — unleashing a concentrated beam of Resonance that shot straight toward Scar.
Scar reacted immediately, swinging his card to intercept. But the moment they collided, something felt… off.
'Something's wrong,' he thought, eyes narrowing. The impact didn't feel like an impact at all — there was no resistance, no weight. It was like trying to block light itself.
Pzzzt — Then his instincts screamed.
His eyes widened in horror as his vision — refined by countless battles — saw what couldn't be seen: thousands of invisible swords materializing in the aftermath of that single draw.
They swung in perfect unison — upward, downward, sideways — from every imaginable angle, each strike mapped along a path only a master could conceive. A thousand ways to cut, all unleashed at once.
Yet Scar was no easy prey. In a flash of clarity, he recognized a critical flaw in the attack — the strikes bloomed outward like the ribs of an umbrella, fanning from a central point in a sweeping arc.
Instead of meeting it head-on, Scar chose to retreat. With a swift motion, he pushed off the ground, letting his body lift into the air for just a moment.
That brief airborne movement was enough — he slipped past the storm of invisible blades, narrowly avoiding the thousand whistling slashes that tore through the space he'd just occupied.
Landing with a heavy breath, Scar exhaled sharply, beads of sweat on his brow. He knew full well — had he tried to endure that head-on, the outcome would've been devastating.
His gaze lifted toward Kyorin, but he noticed something strange—Kyorin was trembling violently before, suddenly — Splutter.
If earlier only faint cracks had appeared, now real fractures spread across Kyorin's body.
From those jagged lines, blood began to seep, and his already pale face grew even more ashen. His heartbeat began to slow, weakening with each passing moment. At last, his body collapsed — this time, for real.
Luckily, Yangyang was close by. She pressed her hands over him, channeling her own Resonance energy to staunch the bleeding and keep him stable.
Rover stood nearby, watching Kyorin with a storm of questions swirling in her mind. How had he suddenly become so powerful? Where had this strength come from?
But those thoughts would have to wait.
Her eyes sharpened, glinting with a dangerous edge.
She had allowed herself to lapse — twice now.
Without a word, she lunged forward, jabbing her blades toward Scar. He narrowly dodged, stepping back with a scowl as he muttered, "Tsk. Mind lending a hand?"
"Quite humiliating for some like you, I must say," came a soft, melodic voice from behind the ruined rubble.
A woman stepped forward, her outfit echoing Scar's red-and-white aesthetic. Her long, light green hair flowed in elegant looped twin-tails, shimmering faintly in the dim light.
Each tail was bound by intricate, ornamental hairpieces that added to her refined appearance.
Her eyes were otherworldly — pale silver-white with a subtle crimson tint that gave the unsettling impression she could peer through reality itself, into the hidden depths of a person's soul.
She moved with serene confidence, her gaze calm yet piercing, exuding an aura of quiet, enigmatic strength that drew all attention to her.
"Stop dissing me Phrolva, and lend a hand," Scar snapped, voice taut with irritation.
Rover, watching the two, narrowed her eyes — her cold, unflinching stare alone enough to make the air feel as if it had frozen solid.
"You look scary... Rover," Kyorin murmured through staggered breaths. Then, in a soft voice, he added, "No need to be on edge... if you must... fight without any concern."
"Can you shut that babbling mouth of yours?" Rover sighed in exasperation.
She didn't turn to face him, but she could feel the faint smile on his lips as he whispered one last thing: "Then, I will be troubling you."
With that, his body went limp, and unconsciousness finally claimed him.
Still facing the two Fractsidus, Rover stood her ground, undaunted. Inwardly, she let out a quiet sigh. 'Idiot... it's okay to rely on me once in a while, you know.'
To be continued...