The storm had not ended.
Jin Akasa stood beneath the torn heavens, the black dragon blade trembling in his hands, the weight of thunder pressing against his skin. The clouds above churned like living beasts, thick with the scent of iron and rain.
He tilted his head upward, grimacing. "So it's not over yet, huh?"
The words came out half a sigh, half a challenge. He could already taste metal on his tongue—the residue of lightning. His body still buzzed from the last strike, nerves fried, muscles twitching beneath his skin.
But it wasn't himself he was worried about. It was the sword.
That damned sword.
Jin glanced down at the weapon. Its surface rippled faintly with red light, as if mocking him. The blade seemed almost alive, hungry, its bloodlines pulsing in rhythm with the thunder above.
"You can take a few more hits," he muttered. "I'm not so sure about me."
He had studied the black lightning carefully after the first strike. It wasn't ordinary lightning—it behaved like a living blade. It didn't burn or char flesh like normal electricity. It cut.
Each bolt was a blade in itself—razor-sharp, impossibly fast, pure destructive will condensed into light.
"Speed, precision, penetration…" Jin whispered under his breath, the storm reflecting in his violet eyes. "It's perfect. The purest form of destruction."
Even as he said it, awe mixed with dread. The black lightning was everything he admired as a swordsman—and everything he feared as a man.
He could withstand a few more strikes. His body, tempered by years of inner force training, could endure it. But the blade…
That was another story.
If the next bolt struck with the same ferocity, it would shatter.
Still, Jin smirked, lifting the weapon to eye level. "Guess it's just you and me now. Let's see if you still think you're the boss here."
He exhaled, long and steady, letting his breath sync with the storm.
Above, thunder coiled tighter. The clouds trembled.
Down below, three figures stood at the base of the mountain—Makino, Hina, and Kuina—each frozen in a mix of terror and awe. From where they stood, Jin looked like a silhouette carved out of lightning, each pulse of the storm outlining his body against the void.
Makino's knuckles whitened as she clasped her hands. Her heart hammered painfully. "He's going to get himself killed…"
Hina's eyes narrowed, calculating. "No. He's going to win. He just hasn't figured out how yet."
Kuina said nothing. Her grip on her sword was so tight her knuckles bled.
The clouds screamed.
A sound like tearing steel ripped through the air. Sparks of blue and black flared across the heavens.
"Here we go again," Jin muttered.
The pressure in the air deepened. The next bolt was building—bigger, faster, stronger than before.
He chuckled bitterly. "You really don't give a guy time to breathe, huh?"
The air vibrated with static. Then came that unbearable hissss—the noise of lightning tearing free from the sky.
Rip.
The second black bolt fell.
"Perfect."
Jin's grin turned feral. Instead of standing his ground, he launched himself upward, propelling off the shattered rock with a burst of inner force.
If he couldn't block it… he'd meet it head-on.
Wind howled past him as he shot into the air, the world below shrinking into a blur of gray and white.
The clouds split open.
The lightning met him halfway.
"Come on!"
Jin roared, every vein in his body lighting up with inner force. His hands tightened around the hilt. His skin glowed faintly as his will exploded outward—his armament energy, tinged crimson, bleeding over his flesh and into the blade.
The dragon weapon pulsed, its black surface gleaming with reflected bloodlight.
"Armament flow… merge."
The two forces—man and blade—became one.
The weapon roared. Jin's body trembled. His voice rose over the thunder.
"Supreme Blade Art—Blood Dragon Slash!"
The air itself twisted.
A roar, deep and ancient, echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
A dragon—blood-red and furious—coiled around Jin's body, its scales flickering like molten embers. As it surged upward, its maw opened, fangs bared toward the heavens.
Lightning met it in a cataclysmic collision.
The explosion wasn't sound—it was force.
Mountains shook. The sea at the island's edge rose in waves that crashed like cannonfire.
The blood dragon sank its teeth into the black lightning, and the lightning cut into the dragon's scales. Sparks of energy burst outward, carving glowing cracks through the air itself.
Neither yielded.
For a single impossible moment, both forces—one born of will, the other of nature—held each other in perfect balance.
Then the balance shattered.
The sky broke apart.
The impact hurled Jin backward like a ragdoll. He crashed down onto the peak, stone exploding under him. Dust and shards of rock scattered in all directions.
The black dragon blade tumbled from his hands, landing blade-first beside him, still humming faintly with power.
"Jin!"
Makino's voice cracked as she ran forward, only for Kuina to grab her wrist.
"Stay back! The air's still charged!"
Lightning flickered faintly around the crater, crawling across Jin's body like glowing veins. His chest rose and fell slowly, raggedly.
He coughed—blood spattering across his arm. "Tch… still alive. Guess I'm tougher than I thought."
His shirt was gone entirely. His pants were little more than torn fabric. Cuts lined his skin, thin and numerous like paper slashes.
But his eyes still burned.
That grin returned, crooked and wild. "Heh. First time I've looked this pathetic."
Even from below, the three women could see it—that strange calm in his expression. It was the look of a man who'd lost everything and yet found peace in the struggle.
Makino's breath trembled. He's smiling? Even now?
Above, the storm raged louder.
The clouds didn't disperse—they thickened, darker than before. Thunder rolled like a heartbeat.
"Oh, come on," Jin muttered, glancing up. "How many of these do you have left?"
His grin faded slightly. The humor was gone now, replaced by quiet calculation.
He could feel it—the next one would be different. The storm wasn't just attacking; it was reacting. Each bolt so far had tested his limits. The next… would decide whether he lived or died.
If I drop the blade, I might survive.
If I hold it…
He looked down at the weapon, the red veins pulsing faintly under the light. It seemed almost to breathe.
"…you'll die with me, won't you?"
He laughed softly, a sound without mirth.
"Well then. Let's make this worth it."
At the mountain's edge, Hina felt her throat tighten. "He's not going to dodge this one," she whispered.
Kuina's eyes narrowed. "No. He's going to end it."
Makino clasped her hands tighter, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please, Jin… don't."
But up on the peak, he had already moved.
He gripped the blade again, both hands steady. His body straightened, his breathing slow and deliberate.
The storm growled overhead, and for a fleeting instant, the world went silent.
Then the clouds burst open.
A third bolt descended—vast, endless, consuming the sky.
Jin's roar tore through the silence.
"COME!"
He swung upward, every muscle straining, every vein aflame. The air bent around him, warping under the force of his swing. The black dragon blade, already cracked and blood-stained, flared one last time—its red lines glowing like molten lava.
The world split.
The bolt met his strike in midair, and for a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then—detonation.
A shockwave spread across the island, flattening trees, splitting the ground, and scattering every trace of the storm.
When the dust settled, the sky was blue again.
Jin stood motionless at the center of the crater, his hair disheveled, his breath shallow. The sword in his hands was gone—reduced to shards that glimmered faintly before fading into ash.
He swayed once, then exhaled, collapsing to one knee.
The silence was absolute.
Makino was the first to move, sprinting forward, stumbling across the cracked ground until she reached him.
She dropped beside him, catching his face in her hands. "You idiot… you're bleeding everywhere!"
He laughed weakly, leaning into her touch. "You should see the other guy."
"Don't joke." Her voice broke, trembling with anger and relief. "You could have died."
"Yeah." His smile softened, exhaustion settling over his features. "But if I hadn't, the sword would've killed me eventually."
Kuina and Hina arrived moments later, eyes wide at the devastation.
"What… what did you do?" Hina murmured, looking around at the ruined peak.
Jin's answer was quiet. "I won."
He lifted his gaze to the open sky. The sun had returned, washing the island in gold.
Makino followed his eyes, then looked back at him, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "Is it over?"
"For now."
He looked at his empty hands. "The blade's gone. But maybe… that's how it was meant to be."
Kuina frowned. "You destroyed your own weapon again?"
"Not destroyed," he said, closing his fist. "Refined."
He smiled faintly. "Next time, I'll forge one that doesn't need the heavens' approval."
Makino's lips curved, equal parts exasperation and pride. "Then I'm staying in the forge this time. Someone has to keep you from dying in there."
Jin chuckled. "Deal."
As they helped him to his feet, the wind carried away the last trace of thunder.
The mountain was silent once more, but something had changed in the air—something subtle yet powerful.
The storm had tested him.
And Jin Akasa had survived.
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T/N :
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