The cliffside became a battlefield suspended between sky and death.
Leo moved.
Not fast.
Not slow.
On beat.
His breath aligned with his steps. His pulse synced with the flow of energy around him. Every motion—thrust, retreat, pivot—followed an invisible tempo that only he could hear.
This was different from instinct.
This was battle rhythm.
The Shadow descended like a calamity, darkness trailing him in uneven waves. Each strike carried overwhelming force, enough to pulverize stone, yet Leo met them—not head‑on—but at the right moment.
Clang.
Sparks and shockwaves burst as spear met palm.
Leo slid back, boots carving lines into the rock. His arms screamed in protest, bones vibrating, but he didn't stop.
Step.
Turn.
Thrust.
A perfect sequence.
The Shadow frowned.
"You move as though you are listening to something," he said.
Leo didn't reply. Words would break the rhythm.
He pressed forward.
The 72 Movements of Heaven flowed naturally now—each form no longer isolated, but woven together. His spear traced arcs in the air, guiding energy instead of forcing it. When the Shadow's power crashed down, Leo adjusted—frequency matching frequency—letting destructive force slide past him like water around a stone.
For a brief moment—
The Shadow was pushed back.
The cliff cracked beneath their feet.
"…Annoying," Shadow muttered.
Then the tempo changed.
The Shadow stopped holding back.
The darkness condensed, no longer wild but razor‑sharp, vibrating at a higher, crueler pitch. Leo felt it instantly—his rhythm faltered, heart skipping a beat.
Too fast.
Too heavy.
Leo tried to adapt.
Step—
A strike shattered the ledge.
Turn—
A palm grazed his shoulder, flesh corroding instantly.
Thrust—
The spear was caught mid‑motion.
Crack.
The shaft snapped.
Leo's rhythm collapsed.
He was flung into the cliff wall, body rebounding like a broken doll. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he slid down, barely managing to stay conscious.
"So close," Shadow said calmly, floating before him. "But comprehension is not mastery."
Leo struggled to rise.
His legs shook.
His internal energy scattered, resonance breaking apart like shattered glass. No matter how he tried to realign it, the Shadow's presence crushed his attempts.
"I told you," Shadow continued. "You are young."
A finger pressed lightly against Leo's chest.
Boom.
The world went white.
Leo slammed into the rock face one last time and went limp, consciousness slipping as darkness swallowed his vision.
The Shadow hovered, watching.
"…Still," he murmured, "to force battle rhythm in such a state…"
He turned away.
"You lose," he said softly. "But you are not worthless."
Leo fell.
The wind tore past him.
The abyss yawned wide—dark, endless, merciless.
Then—
Snap.
Pain exploded through Leo's shoulder as something caught him.
A thick vine wrapped around his arm and torso, its fibrous body stretching violently as his falling momentum was torn away. His body swung hard into the cliff face, ribs cracking against stone, breath forced from his lungs in a strangled gasp.
He dangled.
Alive.
The vine creaked, bark fibers tearing strand by strand, but it held—barely. Leo gritted his teeth, blood dripping down his chin as his vision blurred.
"…Lucky," he rasped.
Using the last scraps of consciousness, he wrapped his legs around the vine and pulled himself closer, hugging it like a lifeline. Every movement sent waves of agony through his shattered body.
Above him, the Shadow hovered at the cliff's edge, gazing down in silence.
"…Fate intervenes," the Shadow murmured.
He watched for a long moment, then turned away.
"Survive, little one," his voice echoed faintly. "If you can."
The pressure vanished.
Leo's body finally gave out.
His grip loosened—but the vine, tangled with others below, lowered him further instead of dropping him outright. Leaves swallowed his form as he disappeared into the dense cliffside jungle.
Darkness claimed him.
But this time—
He did not fall to his death.