The Strongest Transcendent In History Is The Strongest
Chapter 38: Where the Sky Doesn't Breathe
A pulse reverberates through the broken expanse of the sky above, an ominous thrum that resonates deep within the vast chasm of horizon like a foreboding omen, echoing through the fractured realm. The air, heavy with anticipation, seems to thicken with the weight of unseen forces assembling for the unfolding drama. With a fluid grace borne of countless practice, her blade slides free from its dark sheath—a movement executed with such precision and intention that it produces no sound, as if the very fabric of reality holds its breath, unwilling to disrupt the moment before chaos descends. An eerie stillness envelops the world; there is no clash of metal against metal, no melodic engagement of steel—just a profound, almost suffocating silence.
It is a silence so profound it pierces through my very being, shattering thoughts like glass against stone. As I lift my hand cautiously, I can feel an ancient power stirring within the depths of my soul. Golden energy begins to coalesce around me—not in wild, chaotic bursts, but rather like a living breath, slow and measured; it's as if the universe is drawing a deep, careful inhale, bracing itself for the inevitable scream to come. The storm that encircles me possesses an awareness—a sentience that throbs with anticipation, biding its time for the perfect moment to unleash its fury. With a voice that is both calm and filled with restrained fury, I declare, "I'll ask this but once." My foot pushes forward with purpose, the crystal bridge beneath me creaking and groaning under the rising tension of the moment. "Where. Is. She?"
Kenshi remains utterly unmoved, her form an immovable statue, her eyes piercing into mine, cold and precise like blades steeped in a chilling silence, daring me to make my next move. "Do not bother with questions," she replies, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "The only answers you'll receive will be etched into your bones." The statement hangs in the air, thick with foreboding, and in an instant, she vanishes. She becomes an obsidian streak—a ghostly figure wrapped in shadowsteel, fluid and quick. The very air itself tears apart as her blade flashes forward, gleaming like a crescent moon forged from the heart of the night, lunging toward my throat, imbued with the intent to kill, honed through countless executions that have come before.
But I am already gone. The fabric of reality bends to my will, contorting and reshaping as I reappear at her side, a comet of golden light erupting from my clenched fist, illuminating the darkness like a new dawn breaking upon the cosmos.
CLANG. Time falters, caught in the throes of disbelief. A shower of sparks erupts around us in a frozen tableau, every glimmer suspended in a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. Her blade meets my strike with a shudder that reverberates through the air, sending a chill of unnatural frost cascading down my spine. The impact pulses outward, causing the very fabric of the realm around us to tremble, and in that heartbeat, we are united in a dance of raw force.
Silence yields to the primal language of movement—the eloquence of force and will expressed through action rather than words. Kenshi moves with a cruel elegance, each swing of her weapon a calculated execution with lethal intent. I respond with unfiltered might, each counterstrike rewriting the very essence of inertia itself, overwhelming the structures of reality and shattering every rule that once bound us.
We navigate through splintered fragments of a battlefield distorted by the scale of our struggle. Gravity shifts and fractures around us, time hiccups and falters, and space itself seems to implode beneath the immense pressure of who we have become in this suspended clash.
Kenshi blade sings once more, slicing through the air in an upward arc, a crimson line so precise it seems to bleed the very atmosphere around it.
But then—an unexpected shockwave interrupts the chaotic ballet of combat.
Her sword halts mid-strike, caught between two metal-clad hands radiating with contained magical energy.
"Zettai," he announces, his voice a calm thunder resonating through the chaos, yet firm and confident. "Good thing I brought my combat gear. What kind of teacher leaves their student in danger?"
I blink, momentarily taken aback by his presence. "Zettai?! You were supposed to be enjoying your well-deserved break."
Without turning, he stands resolute, effortlessly holding back her violent blade. "I was. Then I witnessed you step into a dimension that was never meant for you to explore alone."
"Did you come to help?" I manage to ask, still trying to comprehend the unexpected turn of events.
Zettai nods, the hint of a reassuring grin softening his typically stoic demeanor. "What kind of teacher allows his student to fight against everything alone? Now go. Time is of the essence. The longer you hesitate, the closer Katsume slips from our grasp."
I stare at him, the enormity of the situation crashing down on me, and then give a solemn nod of understanding. "Right… Just don't die, Sensei." Without another moment's hesitation, I rush past the two of them, my mind focused on the task ahead. As I fling open the next massive door, another staircase reveals itself—winding upward like a dark spine twisting into the unknown. My breath catches in my throat. How many damn floors does this enigmatic place actually possess? I begin my ascent, the weight of each step growing heavier as anxiety surges within me, fueling my determination. After what feels like an eternity, I reach the top. A door stands before me, its imposing presence beckoning. I push it open, stepping into darkness.
A vast room of utter void stretches out before me—a realm of infinite blackness, devoid of ceiling or floor, a place untouched by the constraints of time or physical sense. I step forward, my eyes narrowing with steely resolve.
And then—blades. An onslaught of countless weapons, forged not from metal, but rather from pure, malicious intent, slice through the air, converging upon me from every conceivable direction.
There is no time for hesitation. I leap into motion, twisting and contorting my body to evade the deadly storm, golden energy trailing behind me like the shimmering tail of a shooting star. I land gracefully, crouched low, my eyes calm and my heart steady amidst the chaos. "Is that all you've got?" I mutter, my voice laced with a challenge, the confidence burning in my chest. "Come out. I know someone's behind this." The room responds with silence, but I can feel it now—the weight of an unseen presence lurking in the shadows, the next guardian surveying the scene, waiting. It's clear that I am not alone.
-Back to the battle-
Zettai, muscles coiled like springs, exhales deeply, his breath a mixture of determination and exertion. With a fierce resolve, he hurled a punch, striking with the back of his hand in a move that seemed to defy gravity and logic.
BOOM! The force of the impact sends a shockwave reverberating through the battlefield, tearing into the very fabric of the ground and creating a massive crater. The once-stable floating terrain begins to disintegrate around them, dislodging debris that cascades into the abyss below.
Kenshi—known in this critical moment as she —stands frozen in a state of stunned disbelief. Her steadfast grip on her sword is violently wrenched away, the weapon spiraling into the unforgiving void behind her as if it were weightless. "I need to be careful," she mutters under her breath, a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. Her instincts kick in; her hand reaches out, clamping down on Zettai's wrist with a desperate, calculated force—and in a quick motion, she forces him away from her with a powerful throw.
Zettai is propelled backward, his body hurtling through the air, but in a display of remarkable agility, he flips mid-flight, landing with a catlike grace on the wall behind him. With a primal shout that reverberates through the terrain, he surges forward, launching himself at Kenshi, his fist poised to strike.
The moment his fist connects with her gut, Kenshi coughs violently, spewing blood from her lips as her body bends from the force. The overwhelming impact sends her staggering back, her mind scrambling to comprehend the sheer power Zettai possesses.
"What is with this guy's strength?! How can he be this strong?" Kenshi thoughts spiral, panic cutting through her practiced focus. Around her, the very atmosphere begins to warp and twist, a palpable energy building in the air. A radiant glow envelops her body, purple light emanating with an intensity that seems to ripple through reality itself. The sky above shifts to a violet hue, casting an eerie light over the battlefield, while the ground below trembles violently, warped by the dimensional stress escalating from her power surge.
"This is my trump card…" Kenshi gasps, her voice strained, the weight of her exhaustion palpable in every syllable. "VOID ETERNAL!" With those words, a singularity begins to form in front of her, coalescing into a pitch-black sphere that seems to tear into the very fabric of reality. It expands with ruthless speed, a ravenous black hole that consumes not just physical matter, but obliterates everything in its vicinity—light, color, time, sound—all are devoured in its wake. And then—detonation. A pulse of pure, unrelenting purple energy erupts forth, splitting the world asunder. It doesn't burst outward in a conventional explosion; rather, it inverts and collapses, creating a mesmerizing yet terrifying heartbeat of destruction that reverberates through every living being.
Kenshi stands there, breath coming in ragged gasps, her magic spent, her eyes darkened as if the light within her has been snuffed out. "It's over," she whispers, the weight of her words heavy with finality.
-Back to me-
As my foot touches down on the shattered ground, the sound is swallowed by an unsettling quiet, yet something deep within me stirs, and it feels… wrong. My breath hitches, ceasing altogether as an internal weight presses upon my chest—not physical, but instinctual and primal; an ache clawing at the walls of my heart, like a scream caught in the depths of a vast, insatiable void.
The world around me remains indifferent; the skies do not grieve, nor do they whisper warnings. Yet my soul is all too aware. It knows the terrible cost of this battle. "Zettai…?" My voice trembles, barely escaping my throat, laced with trepidation. But there are no answers, no confirming signs, no glimmers of his aura that once enveloped his presence. Only a hollow, oppressive silence hangs in the air—a silence that follows a miraculous victory turned to ash. My knees threaten to give way beneath me as despair seeps into my bones. No—he couldn't have… he couldn't have fallen—! My palm slams into the ground, teeth gritted, a desperate display of force as cracks spiderweb outward from where I struck, the platform beneath me fracturing under the pressure of my urgency. "Don't you dare die on me, Sensei!" My voice roars with the reckless fervor of a student unwilling to accept defeat. You promised me you'd be fine. You told me to run and save myself! You said— "What kind of teacher lets his student face everything alone?" You liar. The rawness of my words pierces through the air, a silent plea mingled with defiance against the encroaching darkness.
To be continued...