The coliseum burned with noise. Lanterns flickered in the night wind, casting silver light across the stone stage where two warriors stood still as statues. Blue. Ilho. Brothers forged in fire. Rivals born in trust. The crowd had watched them grow. Watched them rise. Now, all of Murim held its breath.
On one side, So-Yeon leaned forward, chin resting on her hands. Silent Edge disciples shouted themselves hoarse. On the other side, Wu Jin stood between Cheng and Yeol, arms crossed.
Behind them, hidden in plain robes, the Sword Saint—Namgung Gyeom—grinned to himself. "You two better be right," he muttered. "If my wife finds out I bet this much gold, you're both dead. And not by me. By her."
Yeol shivered. "She's still scarier than you." Cheng chuckled. "He's not wrong."
Below, the Alliance Leader raised his voice, sharp and cold. "Tonight, only one of these warriors walks into history. The other walks away with scars. This is for a treasure… and an elixir. Are you ready, Murim?!"
The coliseum shook with cheers. Ilho and Blue stood motionless, faint smiles playing at their lips. The referee dropped his hand. "Begin!"
Phase One: Relentless Intent
They clashed. No hesitation. No warm-up. Ilho blurred forward, Phantom Veil flickering across his skin. Twin blades swept outward in savage arcs. Blue met him—not with brute force, but with breath and balance. Flowing Steel carried him just outside each strike. Slash. Dodge. Parry. Pivot. Sparks rained. Ilho spun inward—his blades curved like falling moons.
Blue twisted with him, his jian catching both in a sharp clang. He slid low, sweeping Ilho's legs—Ilho flipped midair, landed, and carved a line across Blue's shoulder. Blood sprayed. They broke apart. Sweat dripped. Chests rose and fell like drums of war. Wu Jin narrowed his eyes. "Ilho's faster. Stronger too." Wu Cheng nodded. "He's touching the threshold." "…But Blue," Jin said softly, "hasn't even begun."
Phase Two: The Edge of Mastery
Ilho pressed again—his blades weaving elegant death, arcs tracing phantom trails in the air. Blue's breath shortened. He's pushing me… Ilho growled between strikes. "Come on, Jiung. Don't coast!" Blue smirked—and lunged. They collided. Steel to steel. Ilho vanished left—reappeared behind. Blue barely caught the strike. The crowd gasped. Even my movement's not enough… I'm too heavy. Still too slow.
Then—
Ping.
[System Ping] Flowing Steel — Movement Style Unlocked. Comprehension: 100%]
Blue exhaled. And moved. Not faster. Not stronger. Lighter. He weaved between Ilho's strikes effortlessly. Each step bled into the next. His blade and breath moved as one. His weight vanished. The fight slowed. Ilho's swords chased shadows.
Phase Three: Dance of Blades
Blue stepped left—and vanished. He slipped between Ilho's strikes like a breeze through reeds. Ilho's eyes widened. "That's new." Blue gave a ghost of a smile. "Thanks for the push." Ilho roared and answered with speed. Twin blades tore the air. Blue ducked beneath one, twisted past another, then slashed across Ilho's ribs—blood splashing across the stage. Ilho didn't flinch. He kicked off the stone and spun low, carving a spiral with both blades.
Blue vaulted over him, landed, and skidded into a full-body pivot, his jian nearly opening Ilho's collarbone. Every strike was real now. The fight no longer sparred. It took. Wu Jin said nothing. His hand gripped his sheath white-knuckled. Because Blue was still rising.
Phase Four: Breakthrough
Ilho faked high, then dove low, trying to shatter Blue's base. Blue leapt, twisted in mid-air, and slammed his blade downward—a grazing cut flaying Ilho's shoulder open. Ilho snarled through gritted teeth. Almost. One more breath. One more beat—
Ping.
[System Ping] Silent Edge — Third Form Unlocked: Threading Pulse. Comprehension: 100%"To weave a thread into a storm, you must first become the needle."
Blue froze for a split second. What the hell does that— Ilho's butterfly swords crashed down on him. Blue caught them, sparks flashing. He pushed Ilho off, breath steady. "…Let's see how you handle this." He moved.
Threading Pulse. His footwork shimmered, ghost-like, weaving unpredictably. His blade dipped low, then danced upward in a spiral cut, forcing Ilho off balance.
Ilho snarled and spun, his blade barely grazing Blue's side. Blue answered with a lightning-fast thrust that clipped Ilho's collarbone.
Another pass—another line of blood across Blue's ribs. They both bled. They both smiled.
"Monster," Ilho hissed. Blue smirked. "Right back at you."
Wu Jin rose to his feet, eyes narrowed, hand gripping the rod. "I never taught him that." Wu Cheng exhaled. "Looks like he mastered it in silence."
Namgung Gyeom chuckled softly. "Sly kid… there's nothing natural about him."
Phase Five: The Final Form
Ilho screamed and unleashed everything. Nine strikes in three breaths. Perfect arcs. Kill lines. Blue didn't block them. He passed through them. He vanished between the cuts and reappeared behind Ilho—blade already descending. Ilho barely twisted. One blade flew from his grip. Blue's sword cracked into his ribs, twisting his body sideways.
Blood sprayed. Ilho's knees buckled. He fell.
Blue caught him. Ilho panted, blood dripping from his chin. "…I yield," he rasped.
The crowd detonated. Sect members from all sides stood, stunned. "I wouldn't last ten seconds against either of them," someone muttered in awe. "They're… monsters."
Final Words
Ilho coughed, then chuckled—a bitter, breathless sound. "Sorry brother, you lost to the system."
Blue chuckled. "That's what it feels like… to chase someone who's already halfway up mountain that you've barely seen the base of."
He looked up, fire still behind his pain. "…But I'll climb it. I'll catch up, even if you have the help of that damn system. Just you wait."
Blue met his gaze. "I'll be waiting at the top." They stepped off the stage together.
Namgung Gyeom watched it all, unmoving. Then—smiled faintly. "That's it," he murmured. "That boy… will shatter this world."
So-Yeon stood from her seat. She didn't wait. "They think they can continue to fool me. That's it," she muttered. "I'm not waiting anymore." Her aide followed quickly. She turned. "Where are Wu Cheng and my uncle?" The aide pointed. She stormed down.
Behind the Stage – Moments Later
So-Yeon cornered Wu Cheng, Yeol, and Gyeom under the stone awning where the elders watched. Her voice cut the air. "That was Flowing Steel."
Wu Cheng raised a brow. "Was it?"
"Don't insult my intelligence," she snapped. "I mastered that style, remember? Nobody could even touch it. Not one of you. Yet you still take me for a fool?"
Gyeom waved a fan lazily in front of his face. "So-Yeon, it's hot. Been a long week. You're no fool, but watching too many fights this week, you might be delusional."
She stepped closer, fire in her eyes. "That boy stumbled over his own feet during the Alliance tryouts. And now you expect me to believe he's mastered the movements my uncle couldn't in twenty years?"
Yeol gave a long, slow sigh. "You're overreacting." She leaned in, voice a dagger. "Tch. Fine. Feed me lies. I'll find out one way or another."
She turned to leave. "This isn't over, old men. I'll see you tomorrow at the celebration as planned."
She paused, gaze lingering on the arena where Blue still stood. "Prepare better answers by then, if you don't want your celebration to be ruined."
Above it All – Final Moments
High above, the Alliance Leader sat unmoved. He scowled, voice low. "Tch. Can't get my hands on either of those two boys. Thanks to Cheng… and Yeol. There is still Ryul though. Im sure Zhenghai would give him to me."
He rose slowly. Robes immaculate. Face unreadable. He clapped once. The cheers dimmed. "A moment, Murim."
Silence fell. All eyes turned to him.
His voice rang out, smooth as glass—sharp as a dagger beneath. "Tonight, we watched not a match—but a declaration. These are no longer boys. They are blades—honed, tested, and sharpened under our roof."
He looked to the crowd, then to Blue and Ilho, still walking shoulder to shoulder.
"Among hundreds, they rose. Not by luck… but by design. They are what we need—and what we must prepare for."
He stepped forward, voice softening into something almost fond. Almost. "To Blue…" His eyes narrowed. "You stand where others have broken. A storm wrapped in silk. A mystery I intend to solve."
A breath.
"A representative will reach out in the coming days. The vault awaits." Then he turned toward the elders. "Wu Jin. Wu Cheng."
He nodded once. "Congratulations to you, Silent Edge. A complete and total victory… and a dangerous one."
His expression never changed. "Prepare yourselves."
He swept his robes aside and walked off as the crowd erupted once more. But in that fleeting hush before the noise rose— Ilho smiled despite the pain. Blue didn't smile back. He just walked forward. One step closer to the top.