Supreme Swordfiend

Lightning struck the beach as Leon settled into a crossed-legged position, guiding his meditation. Not towards introspection, as usual, his thoughts turned toward laying out a path for his new sword style.

The first quandary.

Generalisation or specialisation?

Should he focus his style around the specific abilities of Silent and Scream or instead creating a more generically applicable set of techniques?

Leon considered for only a moment.

Specialised.

Leveraging all the power at his disposal would teach him more about developing a style than holding back would.

Keeping his eyes closed, Leon rose to his feet, drawing his scimitars.

Slowly shifting his weapons allowed him to see without seeing, his perception insight tracking every movement.

The next question.

Purpose.

Intent.

What function would these blades serve?

The Shifting Tides Style relied on accruing momentum, leveraging the user’s gains to an explosive finish. A trump card.

The Giant Slayer Style also used momentum, yet at its core was defensive. Controlling the movements of a larger opponent with techniques to bind and redirect. Specialised, perhaps overly so.

This new style would instead be for general combat, useful no matter the foe.

With two blades it would be offensive- fast, flowing from strike to block, to strike again.

Endlessly shifting, unpredictable and deadly.

Battering down all defence, only ceasing once the enemy lay dead.

At some point he’d begun moving, swords parting the air, lighting strikes growing in intensity and volume as he moved.

Breathing in, Leon felt a hint of foreign mana in the air.

Violent, writhing and eager to discharge its power.

Lightning.

Drawing the foreign mana in, Leon felt it obliterate his unaspected stores, the single drop of mana tearing apart his painstakingly replenished stocks.

He’d never tried holding more than one variety of mana- the destructive reaction of two types meeting hardly surprised him.

The pain, compared to the mental anguish at losing his accumulated mana, felt like nothing.

The level-up pains had been far worse.

Unlike water mana, content to sit until called for, lighting mana demanded to be used and made its displeasure known, straining Leon’s body while he attempted to guide it away from his chest.

Still swinging his blades, strikes growing faster and faster, Leon channelled the single drop of lightning mana into his legs, weaving a circuit on the fly.

He focused on his intent rather than any specific shape, allowing intuition to guide him.

Twisting coils of mana driven through his veins to channel Water’s Power.

Holes bored in his skin, Air’s Pressure letting him feel the movements of his mana without having to sink into a meditative state.

Lightning’s Supremacy, keeping his body from breaking apart under the strain of housing a droplet of heavenly mana.

With each second, he refined his style, mixing low strikes with high chops.

The opponent he’d imagined fought well, blocking and dodging.

Yet, they had to be lucky every time.

Leon need only be lucky once.

As the circuit completed, Leon kicked off the ground, an uppercut following his ascent, a spinning downwards strike following, both blades cleaving through the dirt.

Opening his eyes, Leon felt the power coursing through his legs.

The newly created circuit granted a host of benefits.

His armour felt lighter, his body quicker to move beneath the bulk he clad himself in.

Each step he took left deep imprints in the dirt, so his legs clearly benefited from greater power than before.

Faster. He could move faster than ever, but the true purpose of the circuit lay in the extreme upward force it offered.

With all his armour, Leon normally couldn’t jump very high off the ground. This circuit changed that, opening a whole new way to fight.

It called for a second test.

Chaining a low sweep into a thrust at centre mass, then pivoting that into a rising slash, finishing with a thrust downwards.

This was the style, forcing the opponent into an endless guessing game, striking without pause or mercy. A single hit granted him a chance to poison his foes and buff his blades with fire and invisibility.

Within seconds, the circuit guttered out, the point of mana spent. Leon estimated the point had given him twenty seconds of uptime, though that would require testing.

Testing he wouldn’t get to do today- the lightning mana in the air rapidly dissipated, the storm’s fury abating.

Just another problem to solve.

Before that though- a name.

The style eschewed forms and hard techniques, instead relying on a swordsman’s ability to make the right calls in the heat of the moment.

It made him lighter, faster and granted his legs more power.

The Woods Tyrant’s description rang in his mind.

The beast had thought Leon a demon.

The style incorporated water, air and lightning insights in its circuit.

He’d also completed it during a storm.

The Demonic Storm Style.

Suitably edgy.

The circuit he’d call the Ascending Demon circuit, the only move in the entire style would be The Demon’s Dance.

A pop-up confirmed the new style met the System’s standards

“Skill Developed! [Demonic Storm Style]”

“Demonic Storm Style- A dual-wielding style, created as a general combat approach by a reckless madman. Built around only one technique, The Demon’s Dance demands the user exhibit perfect judgement and extreme aggression, chaining attacks until their opponent slips up, weaving offence and defence into one flurried rush.

Usage of the Ascending Demon circuit enables the user to move faster and leap higher than their encumbrance would suggest, opening paths to unorthodox moves and surprise attacks. Not for beginners, this style places a heavy burden of skill on the user and a burden of power on the blades they wield. Should either be lacking, the style will lead the user to their death”

A far better evaluation than the Giant Slyer Style had received.

Leon wilfully decided the descriptor of madman must be a compliment, dismissing the pop-up.

Sheathing his blades, the swordsman departed, taking a well-earned rest.

Come dawn and he was upon the field of battle once more.

He intimidated her.

The subtle shift in her posture, the way her eyes never met his.

She was prey and she knew it.

When his strikes came, she came up short.

One sword clattered from her grip in their first exchange, Scream biting into the weaker metal, leaving a chip in the blade.

He stopped there.

Sowing fear wasn’t the goal here.

“Alright, we’re done here. You’re nowhere near ready to learn my style.”

Slamming his scimitars back into their sheaths, Leon handed Bethany the sword she’d lost.

He’d humoured the request to learn from him, with a warning that he wouldn’t be holding back.

“Cheer up. You’ll get there.”

At the side of the sparring ground, William stood, a bundle of papers in hand. Leon gestured him over, his right-hand man supplying a copy of the map Leon had sourced.

“So, you all know what you’re doing- hit those dungeons and level. Kong Xia, I’ll be counting on you to watch over everyone.”

Kong Xia had no storage ring, yet never seemed to wear the same robes twice. Always white, with slightly different accents every time.

“Such is the duty of a senior to his juniors.”

Leaving the warriors to pore over the documents Leon had so freely bequeathed, the invigorated swordsman ran down his mental checklist.

He’d boxed off all his tasks this morning, William at his side to ensure someone would remind people of their duties in his absence.

The mages knew their role- come up with a lightning spell for Leon, as weak as possible.

He’d need to learn one eventually, test exactly how much mana Lightning’s Supremacy fed back to him.

Everyone else had orders to grind their levels up, while Leon took a day to hunt the Unique beast and clear the Trial of the swamps.

The Swamp Lord.

Zerasos had given him the lowdown while handing him the maps.

Deep in the fetid mire lay a village, the source of the lizardmen that stalked the wet greenery.

Their lord, a being of wicked intellect, refining their clan’s approach as the Tutorial participants made incursions against the lizard clan.

Of course, since Leon knew the location of their home, he was just going to run in and cleave the upjumped gecko in half.

Logically, other issues demanded attention- earning money chief among them.

Yet Leon could not deny his nature.

He had fresh swords.

His blood demanded he blood them.

Everything else could- and would- wait.

William walked with him to the edge of camp. Patting his number two on the shoulder, Leon left his last instructions.

“No babying them, William. If someone dies, that’s fine- so long as the ones who survive are stronger when I return I’ll be satisfied.”

The boy never quite hid the way his pupils contracted.

Fear, hidden well but nowhere near well enough.

Only the slightest of stammers betrayed William’s emotions.

“Sure. Good hunting, boss.”

Self-interest would succeed should goodwill fail. Rebellion and defection remained unlikely while the group depended on Leon for food.

Striding into the forest, Leon felt a weight drop from his shoulders.

He’d been on his best behaviour- now he could cut loose.

Channelling half of his mana into the Ascending Demon circuit, Leon kicked off the floor, pushing his limits as he raced to the swamplands.

The ecology of the swamps diverged from the woods, the towering redwoods replaced with thin cypress trees, muck and water mixing at their base, thin reeds sprouting along the mud banks.

Many of these embankments rose within the waterways, artificial constructions placed strategically to allow quicker movement through the bog by the occupying lizards.

The first thing that hit him as he crossed the zone boundary was the immediate increase in heat.

Humid air began prickling against his exposed skin.

The second thing to hit him would have been an arrow. The archer instead aimed to intimidate, the arrow thudding against a tree behind Leon.

A lizardman popped out from behind a tree, bow in hand.

Standing only five feet tall, the lizardman clad itself in tribal gear, a mixture of loose-fitting cloth and protective leather.

Green scales took the place of skin, their colour following a gradient that darkened the further they were from its chest. While the outermost scales resembled military camo, the innermost scales were closer to white tinged with green.

The creature’s more distinctive features were its long spiked tail and crocodilian snout. Leon’s danger senses spiked seeing them- getting caught between those jaws would end badly.

Wielding a simplistic wooden spear, carved of the same cypress wood surrounding them, the lizard carried a rugged longbow upon its back, a quiver of arrows at its hip.

A scout, a probing unit. Sent to test Leon and expendable to the clan.

His [Sealed Fiend Eyes] revealed the creature’s information.

“Level Fifteen-Lizalian Scout- The eyes of the lord. Weak and disposable, they rely on stealth and poison to do battle against a superior foe.”

It spoke, speech rasping and sibilant.

“Halt human. Your kind are not welcome. Leave us in peace to complete the Tutorial.”

The scout’s vertical green slits met Leon’s as it spoke, readying its spear to stop the encroaching swordsman.

Facing his first hostile sapient being, Leon drew steel.

“Spare me these lies. We both know peace isn’t really an option.”

Funny how even a puppet of the System could be thrown off its programming by a sufficiently bold claim.

“You do not need to fight us to complete this Tutorial. Peace is always an option.”

Before the lizard could properly launch the attack it was preparing, Leon closed the gap and cut off its arms.

Two plops as the limbs hit the muddy water, two fountains of blood, but no screams.

He’d cut its throat, a flaming scimitar burning the creature’s vocal fold.

No pop-up followed his kill.

Truly a weak foe.

This set the tone for the second area- a test of not of might, but of mindset.

Anyone taken in by the lizard’s claims would die. The lizards knew that their only path to freedom came through butchering the humans, but were smart enough to prey on any moral hang-ups a human may have had.

With greater intellect and speech came deception.

Storing the corpse would have to wait. An arrow thudded into the water beside Leon, forcing him to reposition.

A smile broke upon his face.

Leon had lied as well- there would be peace when he finished his task here, one forged on the broken backs of these weak lizards.