[Billion’s PoV]
"You overdid it," I said quietly.
She let out a small laugh. "Guess I did."
I sighed and shook my head. "There was no need to push that far."
She met my eyes and shook her head slightly. "There was."
The way she said it, left no room for argument. I looked at her for a moment longer, and she just smiled back at me with a cheeky smile.
"Fine," I said at last. "Do you feel okay now?"
She nodded and pushed herself upright, brushing bits of dust from her clothes.
"Well," I continued, glancing at the shattered remains around us, "you almost finished all the statues and your quest is complete. What was that skill you used?"
"The skill belongs to the art Dante taught me," she said. "It’s not a normal technique. It supports growth all the way up to Transcendent rank. The move I used just now was the signature skill, level two of it. There are four levels in total."
I raised an eyebrow. "Four?"
She nodded. "Dante said it’s a true Hidden Art, one that even the System can’t easily register unless the user’s affinity matches perfectly. The one who created it... according to him, they were feared even in the Prime Galaxy."
I was surprised for a second. To be feared in the Prime Galaxy meant truly powerful. Maybe not just a Transcendent, perhaps a Saint.
North smiled faintly and patted my hand before standing up.
"You should rest a little," I said, still half-expecting her to collapse again.
She shook her head. "No. I feel fine. Your healing worked wonders."
I chuckled. "I dumped a lot of vitality into you. You’re practically glowing from it."
"Then thank you," she said, grinning, before giving me a playful wink.
Her blades responded instantly, breaking from the ground and flying back into her hands. The green edges shimmered faintly in the air.
"I still want to finish the rest," she said, her tone steady now. "Wait for me."
Before I could reply, she blurred.
One heartbeat, and she was already gone.
Her figure dashed across the clearing, the wind spiraling around her. She didn’t go for the front this time; instead, she slipped behind one of the remaining ice statues. The movement was precise and silent.
The faint hum of her Essence brushed against my senses a moment before her blade sank in. The statue’s chest cracked cleanly from behind, a perfect strike through the heart.
And I just stood there, hands in my pockets, a small smile tugging at my lips as I watched her take her time with the remaining statues.
She didn’t use that signature skill again but she didn’t need to. I could already see the change in her. Every step was smoother, every swing more refined. The difference between her first strike and her last was night and day.
When she finally landed after slicing clean through the final statue, this time taking its head instead of the heart, I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
"I wanted some diversity," she said with a laugh, her voice light.
I shook my head, smiling.
Almost an hour had passed since she started, and by the time she was done, the entire clearing was silent again, forty shattered figures reduced to glimmering fragments across the ground.
We didn’t rush to leave.
For a while, we just sat there in the middle of that wide, empty field. Talking. Nothing deep or heavy, just small things.
When the sky began to shift colors above us, I stood and reached out my hand. She took it without a word, and together we rose into the air.
The flight back to the capital was quiet. She leaned against me slightly, still lost in her thoughts.
She needed to refine her skill, master the balance between power and precision before stepping into the Grandmaster rank.
We landed softly near the temporary camp. The moment her boots touched the ground, she turned toward me with a faint smile.
"I’ll find Dante," she said. "There’s something I need to ask him about the art."
I nodded. "Go ahead. He’ll probably know what happened with that skill."
She lingered a second longer, then gave a small wave and walked off.
I watched her go for a moment before turning my focus elsewhere.
There was still one more thing to handle.
I could sense Steve and Lyrate in the distance.
Without wasting another moment, I bent my knees slightly, let Essence surge through my legs, and launched myself toward their direction.
When I arrived, the scene that greeted me was... oddly amusing.
Lyrate sat upon a throne made of intertwined wood and roots. Two of those roots extended outward, burrowing into Steve’s back. From the faint glow pulsing along them, it was clear, she was regulating his vitality and stamina.
Steve, however, was anything but passive. He moved like a storm among the countless roots darting toward him from every direction. Each one aimed to pierce or bind, but he danced between them, his sword flashing like liquid silver.
His transformation skill was already active. Sword currents spiraled around him, creating a barrier of cutting intent.
He stepped forward and swung, slicing through three charging roots in a single motion. They disintegrated instantly, reduced to fragments that scattered into the air. Without pause, he pivoted, another slash, horizontal this time then again, a vertical arc that split the air.
He didn’t wait for results. Each move flowed into the next, precise and relentless. Two more slashes, a sharp turn, and then rest. For two full seconds, even the roots hesitated before the dance began again..
By the time it ended, a minute had passed. Sixteen activations.
Then Steve collapsed backward, gasping for breath, sweat streaking his face.
"Dammit," he muttered between ragged breaths, "if I knew this would be part of training, I’d have dumped more points into Psynapse."
"I can lend you some if you ask me politely," I said as I landed beside him.
"Sure. I’m ready. Give it to me," he replied, eyes half-closed, still catching his breath.
I turned to Lyrate. "So, how’s it going?"
She scoffed lightly, her tone carrying that usual hint of mockery. "He’s a scared cat. Doesn’t want to take any risks. But... for a human, I suppose he’s doing fine."
I glanced at Steve, who was already glaring at her.
"Ignore her," he said with a snort. "She’s a monster. I’m not looking for compliments from something with roots for hair."
Lyrate’s expression didn’t change, but the vines around her throne twitched in response.