Chapter 454: The Realm Beyond
(Lewis Hamilton Arena, The Commentator’s Box)
Both Dana and Joe watched the fight unfold with such unwavering focus that, for a brief moment, they forgot they weren’t just spectators, but professionals with a duty to narrate the bout.
"The tide seems to have turned again, Joe... Skyshard looks like he’s run out of tricks, and Veyr’s dishing out steady damage now," Dana observed, his tone laced with a mix of concern and admiration.
"Absolutely, Dana. That last slash Skyshard took was brutal. No way that doesn’t affect his movement, whether he wants to show it or not," Joe added, as both commentators leaned forward, eyes locked on the clash below, their usual banter momentarily replaced by silent intensity.
The two of them realized that their voice was only a distraction now.
And hence they spoke sparingly.
—------------
(Meanwhile, back on Planet Juxta, Charles’s POV)
Groans echoed through the mess hall as the soldiers stationed around Monarch Charles slammed fists on tables or cursed under their breaths, visibly agitated by the shift in momentum on-screen.
"Damn it... he’s taking too many hits."
"Why isn’t he dodging? What’s that kid doing?"
"Skyshard’s gonna get himself killed at this rate..."
Their frustration filled the air, heavy and impatient, as dozens of eyes remained glued to the central TV screen where Leo struggled big time under Veyr’s relentless assault.
But while everyone else in the room looked dejected, Charles was not.
The old Monarch remained seated calmly, his expression unreadable, as he leaned slightly forward and took a long, measured drag from the fresh cigarette nestled between his fingers.
’That’s right, boy. That’s the only way you’ll break through. You’re going good...’
Unlike the others in the room, Charles did not see Leo being outmaneuvered, or him fighting recklessly.
What he saw instead was Leo’s resolve. As he figured out exactly what Leo was up to.
Where others saw a desperate youth cornered by a stronger opponent, Charles saw a warrior walking the edge of death, not because he had no choice, but because he chose to.
And he respected that more than anything.
’You’ve already won the contest of balls. To willingly force a breakthrough while dancing on the edge of defeat... that takes a kind of courage most fighters never find in their lifetime. You’ve already proven you’ve got bigger balls than most, kid.’
He tapped ash from the tip of his cigarette, eyes still fixed on the TV screen as a faint smile tugged at the edge of his lips.
’Now it’s only a question of whether or not the heavens choose to reward you for your courage... or punish you for your ambition.’
—-------------
(Meanwhile back on the battlefield)
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*SLASH*
A few seconds passed since Leo saw the red mist solidify into a proper line for the first time.
However, the same success eluded him again, as he took hit after hit after hit, chasing that fleeting feeling.
This time the hit came across his chest, diagonal and shallow, but enough to leave a burning trail of pain that made his breath hitch.
His feet skidded slightly across the platform, but he didn’t stumble. He held firm.
*Block*
*Parry*
*Deflect*
Every movement that he made, came slower now. His limbs ached. His vision blurred at the edges. But his grip never loosened, and his eyes never left Veyr’s blade.
’Again. Keep going. I’m almost there, don’t you fucking slow down now.’ Leo thought, as just then, as another strike carved across his bicep, blood spraying in a thin crimson arc—
Something clicked.
As in that moment, everything else faded away.
The noise of the crowd.
The blinding stadium lights.
The blood dripping from his wounds.
It was all gone.....
Gone as if the entire world around him had faded into shadow, not literally, but in a kind of selective blindness that erased everything non-essential from existence.
Leaving only himself and Veyr behind.
The audience. The arena. The Cult. The referee..... they all faded into obscurity, leaving only the two of them facing off in an empty plane, where every breath felt louder than thunder, and every heartbeat echoed like a war drum.
And then... he saw it.
A solid red thread!
It flowed from the tip of Veyr’s sword like a thread of crimson wool spun from blood and willpower, dancing through the air in a perfect arc, tracing the exact path of his next strike long before the blade ever moved.
Leo raised his dagger.
*Block*
His weapon met Veyr’s sword at the perfect angle, instinct and insight fused into one seamless motion.
*Block*
Another strike came, and Leo made another effortless block as if he had lived through this sequence a hundred times before.
*Block*
The third strike arrived faster, sharper, more precise... but Leo was already there.
His steel met Veyr’s again in a clean, decisive parry that required no guesswork, no gamble, no improvisation.
Because for the first time—
He wasn’t reacting.
He was seeing.
He could see the exact trajectory of his opponent’s attacks and place his blade precisely where it needed to be— without hesitation, without thought.
’This is it... this is the realm beyond aura understanding...’ He realized excitedly, as for the first time, he began to see what fighters like Charles and Soron saw on the regular.
It wasn’t mere perception, nor was it something as simple as premonition or sharpened reflex..... It was something deeper.
A raw, unfiltered connection to the very will behind each strike, as Leo no longer needed to read the twitches in Veyr’s muscles, or the tension in his grip.
He could now perceive the intent before it became action.
And could now see the blade’s destination before it was ever drawn.
’So this is what it means to fight with intent... to see the red thread before it wraps around you...’ Leo finally understood, as when Veyr attacked him yet again, not only did he dodge the move by side stepping it with ease, but he also launched an easy counter-attack against Veyr’s exposed shoulder, his dagger carving through flesh, leaving a brutal wound that tore through Veyr’s upper arm, stunning everyone.