Chapitre 404: Stellar Cascade
Third Movement: Stellar Cascade
The clash of swords rang through the frozen air, each strike a note in a deadly symphony. I stood across from Master Li, my body straining under the weight of his relentless assault. His blade moved like flowing water, seamless and unending, while I struggled to counter with precision.
But it wasn't enough.
Our duel ended with his blade at my throat, my own sword forced to the side. The tip of his weapon glimmered with a faint sheen of lightning as he stepped back, lowering it without a word.
I dropped to one knee, panting heavily. I hadn't landed a single decisive blow in the entire exchange.
"You're good, Arthur," Master Li said, his tone calm but firm. "Your strikes are precise. Deadly. But precision alone is not enough."
I looked up at him, confused. "Not enough? My techniques—"
"—are lacking," he interrupted, his expression unreadable. "You fight as if every battle can be won with one perfect strike. But not every opponent will give you that opportunity. What happens when you face someone who can parry your precision? Someone who won't break under a single blow?"
I frowned, wiping the sweat from my brow despite the chill. "Then I wait for an opening."
Li shook his head, a trace of disappointment in his eyes. "And if they don't give you one? If their defense is impenetrable? I talked about this before. A storm, Arthur. That's what you're missing. A barrage that overwhelms, not just a single blade but a thousand strikes raining down until their fortress crumbles."
"A storm," I echoed, the word foreign to my ears. My techniques were about efficiency, precision—cutting through problems with minimal effort. A storm felt... reckless.
But Master Li only nodded. "A storm doesn't need to be reckless. It needs control. Focus. But above all, it needs to be relentless. You need a movement that doesn't stop for hesitation. Something that becomes its own force of nature."
Over the next few days, the concept haunted me. In the quiet moments between missions, I returned to Master Li's words, replaying them over and over. Each sparring match, each duel became an experiment.
How could I create a technique that embodied the storm? A barrage of strikes that didn't lose momentum but built upon itself, each blow reinforcing the next? I tested combinations, layering techniques with spellcasting, merging swordplay with mana in ways I hadn't tried before.
And then it began to click.
The foundation lay in my Grade 4 art, Spectral Sword. Its flowing phantom movements already carried an echo of what Master Li described. I extended those sequences, adding layers of complexity and integrating them with my other techniques. My sword became an extension of myself, its movements blurring into a cascade of light and power.
The breakthrough came during a training session under the night sky. As I moved through the forms, my strikes began to flow together, each one feeding into the next. The stars above seemed to reflect in the arcs of my blade, and I felt something shift—a connection, a harmony between the heavens and my technique.
I named it Stellar Cascade.
Now, facing the Paladin of Void, I unleashed it for the first time in true battle.
The cascade began with a single strike, my blade carving through the air in a blur of light and space mana. But before the energy dissipated, I followed it with another strike, and another, the momentum building into a torrent. Each swing of my sword carried the weight of the stars, the brilliance of light and space mana pouring forth in unrelenting waves.
The Paladin's dark blade met mine, his defense precise but straining under the constant assault. His form flickered as my strikes connected, each one leaving faint cracks in the shadowed aura that surrounded him.
'This is it,' I thought, the storm surging within me. 'This is the power of a cascade.'
The battlefield became a whirlwind of light and shadow, the clash of our energies tearing through the ground beneath us. The Paladin staggered, his regeneration struggling to keep up with the sheer volume of damage I was inflicting.
But even as I pressed the advantage, I couldn't let myself grow complacent. The Paladin of Void wasn't just a warrior—he was a force of unyielding will, a shadow that refused to be extinguished.
Each strike of the cascade brought me closer to that critical moment, the one flaw in his defense that I could exploit. As my movements flowed, I thought back to Master Li's final words during our duel.
"A storm doesn't stop, Arthur. It finds the cracks and breaks them wide open."
My blade descended in a final arc, the culmination of the cascade. Light and space mana surged forward, a radiant torrent that shattered the remnants of the Paladin's aura and cut deep into his side.
For the first time, he faltered.
Blood—dark and ethereal—spilled from the wound, his regeneration slower than before. My strike had reached not just his body but his soul, leaving a scar that even his Immortal-rank vitality couldn't immediately heal.
The storm had done its job.
As I stepped back, my blade still glowing with residual mana, the Paladin raised his head to meet my gaze. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and grudging respect.
"Your sword," he said, his voice low and resonant. "It carries the weight of the stars. But stars, too, can fall."
I readied my blade, the cascade fading but the storm within me still alive. The battle wasn't over—not yet. But for the first time, I felt the faintest glimmer of hope.
Because now I knew I could reach him.
The strain was monumental, like trying to hold up the weight of the heavens with my bare hands. Stellar Cascade was a movement that dared to reach for the stars—an overwhelming concept born from humanity's ambition to touch the unattainable. But for someone at my level, it was like trying to breathe underwater.
It worked, sure, but the cost was immense.
My breathing came in ragged bursts, each gasp a battle against the crushing weight of exhaustion. My muscles screamed in protest and the residual hum of astral energy left my nerves frayed. The brilliance of the Stellar Cascade had dimmed, leaving behind a silence that seemed to stretch for eternity.
Across the battlefield, the Paladin of Void staggered. His body, once a monument of dark astral energy and unyielding power, was now riddled with fractures. Yet, even as Cecilia's relentless barrage of spells forced him to defend, his regeneration began anew.
The dark aura around him shimmered as his body knit itself back together with an almost defiant efficiency.
And then, it happened.
A single, radiant streak cut through the darkness.
It wasn't just a bullet—it was pure mana, condensed and shaped into a projectile by Cecilia's unparalleled mastery. The glowing missile, imbued with seven-circle spellcasting precision, tore through the air with a thunderous crack, its trajectory unerring.
The Paladin turned just as the magic bullet smashed through his shield of dark astral energy. For the first time, there was no graceful deflection, no overwhelming power meeting the attack. The shield disintegrated in an instant, and the bullet struck home.
Right in the center of his chest.
The explosion was both light and sound—a dazzling burst of mana that engulfed the Paladin's form, obliterating him down to his very essence. Chunks of dark astral energy scattered like shattered glass, the ground quaking beneath the force of the detonation.
I stood frozen, my sword lowered slightly as I watched the spectacle unfold. For a moment, it seemed like this might be it—the end.
But then, as if to mock the very concept of finality, his dark astral energy began to coalesce again. The fragments drifted together, knitting themselves back into the form of the Paladin of Void.
"He's regenerating," I muttered, my voice edged with frustration. No matter how many times we tore him apart, his resilience seemed boundless.
Cecilia's voice rang out, steady and commanding, over the roar of the battlefield. "Arthur, focus. We're wearing him down!"
I turned to her, catching the briefest flicker of strain on her face. She was pushing herself, pouring everything she had into this fight. The magic bullet had been a masterpiece, a culmination of her talent and focus, but even she couldn't keep this up forever.
"Nice shot," I called out, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.
Her crimson eyes met mine, a hint of a smile breaking through her intensity. "Thanks. Now finish this."
The Paladin's regeneration slowed. The cracks in his armor of dark astral energy were more pronounced, the aura around him flickering like a failing flame. He was weakening, but he was still far from defeated.
I gripped my sword tighter, my body screaming in protest as I prepared for another assault. This wasn't just a battle of strength anymore—it was a battle of endurance, of resolve.
"Your tricks are running thin," I said, leveling my blade at the Paladin.
"And yet," he replied, his voice low and resonant, "I endure."
His sword rose again, its edges wreathed in dark astral energy that pulsed with an almost malicious intent. Despite the damage we'd dealt, his resolve was unshaken, his presence as oppressive as ever.
But this time, I wasn't fighting alone.
"Ready?" Cecilia called out, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Always," I replied, stepping forward as the two of us prepared to face him together. The stars above might have been out of reach, but with Cecilia at my side, I knew we could bring them crashing down.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone