Chapter 25: The Word of Power and the Sword Maiden

An intangible domain expanded, its edges shimmering with a soft, fluorescent glow. It enveloped a three-meter radius around Mutsumi Wakaba, swallowing the wooden dummy whole.

There should have been no wind in the room, yet within Mutsumi’s domain, invisible surges of air currents stirred. Her T-shirt clung to her body like flowing water, revealing the perfectly balanced lines of her frame.

Seeing the Spirit trigger, Uesugi Koshi’s expression turned solemn. The sensation was hauntingly familiar, pulling him back to the years when he reigned as the supreme lord of the yakuza.

Among the elders of the Niigata-Snake Clan, it was Inuyama賀 who had been closest to Uesugi. Today, nearly no one in the clan even knew of Uesugi’s existence, with Inuyama being one of the few exceptions. That bond was forged in steel; as a yakuza sovereign flowing with the blood of the Dragon Emperor, Uesugi’s swordsmanship was peerless in Japan. Only Inuyama, with his Spirit "Shattered Seconds," could unleash strikes of god-like speed, qualifying him as Uesugi’s only true rival. They had crossed blades many times, and Uesugi had often lent his support to the Inuyama family’s ventures.

Yet, here was this young girl, wielding a Spirit identical to Inuyama’s—or rather, one that seemed even more formidable.

Uesugi couldn't help it; the dragon blood that had lain dormant for so many years began to boil and cheer. He hadn't felt this way in ages. Holding a sword had become a luxury he could no longer afford. He was old, retired, no longer a sovereign, and without rivals—save for Anjou and Inuyama. To see such vitality in a youth, how could he not feel anticipation? Such burgeoning spirit was the very hallmark of a new era.

Mutsumi seemed unaware that she was performing an *iaijutsu* strike; it was all instinct. The blade left its scabbard with impossible speed, and both she and the path of the blade vanished. Within the three-meter radius, Sakiko saw only a flash of crimson radiance.

It was an uncountable series of slashes. Each strike was merely a line drawn through the air, but when the number of crimson lines grew overwhelming, they became a ceaseless tidal wave, shattering the domain like a broken mirror. From different angles, it appeared as if space itself had been sliced open. All sound faded. It was like a kaleidoscope; in every fragment, there was a version of Mutsumi kneeling, hands gripping her katana as she sheathed it into an invisible scabbard. Her golden eyes shone with the sharpness of a blade, yet no one could see where she truly stood.

"I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING."

This mysterious incantation echoed softly through the dojo. To others, it sounded like a single syllable, yet it shattered the frozen time. As the final syllable fell, all the rapid slashes erupted at once. Under Uesugi’s gaze, the dummy burst apart, raining down a flurry of wood shavings.

It all happened too fast. For Sakiko, one moment Mutsumi was gathering her strength, the next a crimson glow filled the world, and then it was over. There had never been a blade so swift in history, carving cold, fatal arcs from the cracks in time.

If Inuyama were standing here, his jaw would surely have hit the floor. He had spent his entire life, through thousands of grueling trials, to push "Shattered Seconds" to the eighth stage, and even then, he could only accelerate himself. Yet, at fifteen, Mutsumi’s first time holding a sword and her first time using a Spirit yielded a tenth-stage "Shattered Seconds." Her domain-level acceleration allowed for 1,024-fold god-speed *iaijutsu* chains.

This was the vast chasm of lineage. No one knew the true limit of "Shattered Seconds," but it was inevitable that those with stronger bloodlines would find it easier to master. If it were a true Ancient Dragon, it might even be able to leap across the timeline to steal an enemy’s time.

A wave of intense dizziness washed over Mutsumi. She trembled as if shocked by electricity and collapsed, her katana clattering to the floor. She tried to move, but her nerves were completely scrambled. She wanted to stand, but her wrists moved instead; she wanted to move her hands, but her knees reacted.

Sakiko rushed to support her. Mutsumi leaned against her arm, breathing heavily, too weak to speak. Her body felt hollowed out, as if it no longer belonged to her—only her consciousness remained.

"She’s just exhausted. It’s nothing serious; she’ll be bedridden for a few days at most," Uesugi said, glancing at her and immediately understanding the situation.

"Shattered Seconds" was not easily controlled; it was the pursuit of ultimate acceleration. Mutsumi had likely mimicked the exaggerated moves she’d seen in some Akihabara advertisement, and her body had naturally followed suit.

However, such rapid, continuous slashing imposed a massive burden on the body. The Spirit itself was a heavy load, especially one that accelerated the physical form. During those moments of accelerated time, moving at 1,024 times the normal speed was akin to trying to launch oneself out of the atmosphere while stark naked. The muscles endured horrific strain—even Inuyama wouldn't dare attempt such a thing.

"Young people just don't know the limits. Daring to try something so reckless on the first attempt," Uesugi shook his head, sighing with pity. "She’s lucky she didn't suffer muscle tears or shattered bones! Remember this: always start small and work your way up."

Mutsumi glanced at him and nodded slightly; even that movement took her several seconds. She hadn't expected it either. Once she gripped the sword and thought of Inuyama’s *iaijutsu*, her body had acted on its own. It felt similar to when Metis took control—she didn't know if she was mimicking the technique or if Metis had borrowed her body. By the time she came to, her body had "powered down," and her internal organs felt as though they had been rearranged.

"I'll take her to her room," Sakiko said, hoisting Mutsumi’s arm.

Mutsumi couldn't stand. With no other choice, Sakiko wrapped her arms around Mutsumi’s waist and lifted her in one go. Mutsumi felt a sense of weightlessness, as if drifting on clouds, and drifted off to sleep with her head tucked inward.

Ten minutes later, Sakiko returned to the dojo. Since Uesugi said Mutsumi just needed rest, she wasn't overly worried. She had the household servants tend to her. The hilt of the *Murasame* was always cold, but now, holding it felt oddly reassuring, as if it were a part of her own body.

"You’re quite dedicated to swordplay. I thought you’d stay to look after your friend," Uesugi teased, picking up a police baton wrapped in leather.

After witnessing Mutsumi’s Spirit-enhanced *iaijutsu*, he was itching to move a bit more seriously to see if Sakiko could manifest her own Spirit. If he used a real sword, Sakiko would be in the hospital in a heartbeat; a baton was much safer. For a hybrid, a blunt object wouldn't do much harm.

"I'm not the type to make excuses to avoid training," Sakiko gripped the sword with both hands, assuming the classic *seigan* stance. "There is a time and place for everything. I wanted to learn kendo; time is precious, and I won't waste it."

"Brilliant. Every master hopes for a good student, so they can pass on their life's work." Uesugi nodded in approval, then his smile vanished as he lunged forward. "Wrist!"

The sword struck the baton, sending sparks flying. Uesugi’s strength was significantly greater than it had been two days ago. Even through the *Murasame*, the heavy pressure transmitted from the blade nearly made Sakiko lose her grip.

"Arm!"
"Waist!"
"Face!"

Every time Uesugi called out a target, he attacked it. Sakiko fought to defend, using every ounce of her strength until her wrists went numb just to barely block him. In kendo matches, calling out targets was a formal requirement for scoring, but they were learning true ancient-style swordsmanship, where such formalities were unnecessary. Uesugi was training her reflexes against an enemy's assault. One day, she would face a truly lethal foe, and no one would be kind enough to announce where they were going to strike.

"Hip!"

With another roar, Sakiko moved to defend her side, but she was met not with a baton, but a kick. She hadn't expected her teacher to change tactics so abruptly. The *Murasame* brushed against her leg as the kick landed squarely on her rear. The pain was searing, and she stumbled away.

"Is this what kendo and swordsmanship are supposed to be about!" she shouted, clutching her hip and glaring at him, her face flushing red.

"Why wouldn't it be? I told you, this is fighting. In a fight, any move that lets you win is the right move," Uesugi twirled the baton and caught it, looking nonchalant. "Ever seen how the yakuza fight? Throwing sand in eyes, stomping on toes, kicking the groin. Don't think for a second that someone trying to kill you will play by the rules."

"I think you did that on purpose!"

"How could you say that? Am I the kind of lecherous guy who’d take an interest in a student’s backside?" Uesugi chuckled and patted his own hip. "Angry? No? If you're really angry, then come at me—if you can."

Though their contact was brief, Uesugi could feel that Sakiko Toyokawa was a girl with immense pride. Her affluent upbringing had fostered her competitiveness and confidence. Such people cared deeply about their image and hated humiliation. He had originally wanted to beat her thoroughly to see if he could provoke her Spirit, but he realized that with her personality, such harsh methods weren't necessary. A girl born a princess likely never had the experience of being spanked by her parents, and this tactic was far more effective for an adolescent than a simple beating.

As he expected, the profound sense of humiliation sent a surge of anger through Sakiko. Her chest heaved; she was clearly determined to regain her dignity today. She took a deep breath, her grip on the *Murasame* tightening. She had memorized the weight of Uesugi’s force; if she gritted her teeth and held on, she could find the right moment to counterattack.

Unconsciously, a faint gold began to suffuse her eyes. The feeling from the confrontation with Inuyama while driving last night returned. Absolute confidence, a ruthless will to kill, and dragon blood burning like a furnace—her Spirit always accompanied her rage. It was like a sovereign descending upon the world, sweeping across the earth and sky, leaving all to crawl at her feet.

Here it comes! Uesugi held his breath. He had already witnessed the brilliant blooming of a rose today, and now he was welcoming a rose with thorns. He couldn't help but want to admire the gift of ancient dragon blood—what would that moment of beauty look like?

This Spirit manifested silently. There was no expanding domain, no arcane dragon-script incantation. It was like an assassin’s blade hidden beneath a coat; when it struck, it brought only death, and one only realized what had happened after being hit.

Sakiko lunged forward. The *Murasame* traced a brilliant arc, and Uesugi saw his own reflection in the blade.

There was no movement as he had imagined. Was it just a physical enhancement Spirit?

In that moment of thought, Uesugi’s baton moved to strike the *Murasame*. After their first bout, he wouldn't treat Sakiko like a novice, but he controlled his strength without holding back. Even if Sakiko had a blood feud with him, she wouldn't be able to break his defense through lineage alone.

But the expected sensation did not transfer to his baton. Uesugi was shocked. He looked down at the trajectory of the *Murasame*. In his eyes, Sakiko was moving like a slow-motion film; his thoughts, reactions, and vision were beyond anything an A-rank hybrid could match.

Yet, he could not see the path of the *Murasame*! Clearly, Sakiko was attacking him clumsily—he could see every strand of her hair, he knew exactly where her focus lay—but the sword in her hand seemed to possess a will independent of its master. To Uesugi, it was just a blur of silver, like a meteor, impossible to track... and it completely ignored his baton.

Spirit: "Divine Verdict!"

Even Kassel Academy had not cataloged every Spirit. To this day, "Divine Verdict" remained merely a name known to few. But its true form was now revealed before Uesugi. Even a user of "Time Zero" might not be able to counter it.

Its existence was a paradox that transcended causality. No matter how one resisted, countered, or defended, once locked onto by the wielder, the world would call upon the will of "Divine Verdict" to automatically correct the impossible. No matter how the wielder attacked, they would always successfully strike their target.

Uesugi heard the sound of the *Murasame* piercing his body—muscle tearing, nerves screaming in pain, blood sizzling as it flowed.

As the yakuza sovereign, no one had ever managed to hurt him in such a way. Even that man named Anjou had only chased him in circles with two wooden swords. He suddenly regretted his joke about kicking her backside, for the price was far higher than he was willing to pay. He had been confident in catching Mutsumi’s "Shattered Seconds," but he could not catch Sakiko’s "Divine Verdict."

"MY KIDNEY!!!!"

The howl exploded from the dojo all the way to the rose garden outside. The birds perched on the roof were so startled they nearly fell off. Today’s kendo lesson at the Toyokawa household ended with Uesugi Koshi’s impulsive joke backfiring in the most painful way possible.