The silence after the battle was a strange thing. Not peace—merely the absence of sword clashes and dying breath. The village stood still, holding its own heart in anticipation. The sun, rising hesitantly, cast long shadows over corpses and shattered banners. Smoke drifted above charred rooftops like ghosts reluctant to depart.
Tikshn knelt by the broken well, washing the blood from Silver Sorrow. The blade, chipped and faintly humming, felt heavier today. Not from weight, but memory.
Ryujin limped forward, his face pale beneath bloodied robes. "You've made a declaration, Tikshn. Now the world must answer."
Tikshn did not look up. "I will not hide."
Ryujin chuckled darkly. "You may not have a choice. There will be bounties. Assassins. Sect emissaries. Curious fools and greedy warriors. You've become something dangerous—not for what you did, but what you represent."
"A sword that was born among ashes?"
"A sword that severed bloodlines and shamed the mighty."
Alia approached quietly. She had bandaged her arm, but her eyes held a fury far greater than any wound. "What's next? We can't stay here."
"We go to the Hollow Valley," Ryujin said. "There's an old contact there. A Seer. One who might help us understand what else lies beneath the Sword Tomb's seal."
---
The journey took them through twisting woods and haunted ravines. Rain fell without warning, making the roads slick and treacherous. Wild beasts avoided them, save for one.
It was on the third night that the mist returned—not the gentle fog of morning, but a thick veil reeking of poison.
From the trees emerged a masked figure, lean and tall, clad in dark blue robes of the Moon Lotus Assassins. Their weapons were twin crescent daggers, silent as shadows.
"Tikshn," the voice was calm. Female. "You've drawn too much attention. I've been paid well to end your tale."
Tikshn didn't rise. He looked past her. "How many?"
"Just me. I insisted."
"That was your mistake."
She struck with fluid grace—daggers flashing toward his throat.
Tikshn rolled back, parried with one hand, and used the other to slide Silver Sorrow from its sheath. Their blades clashed under moonlight, creating sparks that danced like fireflies.
She was fast.
He was faster.
Each move he made bore the echo of the Sword Tomb. His stance was refined, stripped of excess. She tried to find an opening, but his aura pressed against her—relentless.
Then, a flicker of emotion.
Tikshn recognized it.
Fear.
She disengaged, flipping backward into the trees. But Alia was already there, bow drawn. One arrow loosed—
—straight into the assassin's shoulder.
She collapsed, breath ragged.
"Do it," she whispered. "Kill me."
Tikshn approached, but stopped short. "What's your name?"
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because I kill only men without names. Those who forget they were once human."
She hesitated. "Vayla."
"Remember that name. And remember that you lost."
He turned, leaving her with her life and her shame.
---
By dawn, the mist was gone. Ryujin said little, though he kept glancing back along the path.
"She'll return," he muttered. "The Moon Lotus never leave debts unpaid."
"Then I'll collect mine too," Tikshn said.
They reached Hollow Valley by midday—a barren, rocky expanse cut by deep ridges and broken temples. The air buzzed with spiritual residue. Here, long ago, an ancient war was fought and never truly ended.
The Seer's dwelling was a cave carved into the cliffs. A thousand wind-chimes greeted them, each made of bone or silver, each singing a different note.
An old woman emerged. Blindfolded. Tattoos crawled like inked serpents over her arms.
"Tikshn," she rasped. "Come. You bear the Tomb's curse."
Inside, she lit incense and dropped fragments of a crystal into the flame. Smoke swirled—green, violet, black.
"I see two paths. One soaked in your blood. One soaked in the blood of the world."
Tikshn frowned. "There must be another."
"Not for swords like you."
She leaned closer. "The spirit that awakened in the Tomb—it wasn't random. It chose you. Do you know why?"
He shook his head.
"Because you are its echo. The sword it once was. The soul it once broke."
A silence fell.
Then she whispered, "And because you are not the last."
The room trembled.
Outside, clouds gathered.
Thunder rumbled across the Hollow Valley.
---
That night, Tikshn dreamt of the Sword Tomb. But it was no longer buried.
It had risen.
And it called not just to him, but to others. All across Murim, swords stirred in their scabbards. Warriors woke from restles
s sleep. And a storm unlike any before began to form.