Steel flashed, so quick, so ruthless, that the air itself shrieked as the blade lunged for Jared’s chest. Flaxseed’s face drained of color. “Watch it!” cried.
Jared’s eyes narrowed to a single point of focus. Power surged through his veins, and in a heartbeat the Dragonslayer Sword leapt into his grip. He pivoted, meeting the oncoming strike head-on.
The collision rang through the street like church bells at dawn. Twin swords locked, spraying a shockwave that rippled over storefronts and set every hanging sign buzzing.
Jared tasted iron in the back of his throat; numbing force crawled up his arm and shoved two paces backward. The white-robed woman, Lyra Snowdon, also staggered a step, surprise flickering behind steady gaze.
“Your sword technique…” Lyra studied the black blade and the simple arc Jared had just carved through space.
Wonder widened eyes. “That was the Sword Sect‘s Flowing-Cloud Form, wasn‘t it? Even unfinished, its rhythm is unmistakable.”
Huh? She recognized it?
I only copied a few moves from the ruins back on level three.
The revelation struck Jared harder than the clash of steel.
“I’ve never heard of any Sword Sect,” Jared said, lowering the Dragonslayer Sword yet keeping his weight poised to spring. “What you saw is something I developed on my own.”
Lyra shook head, midnight hair swaying like a blade of its own. “Impossible. The essence of the Sword Sect lives in that strike. I could never mistake it. Who are you, really? Were you trained by the Sect?”
Jared held stare and offered only silence, unwilling to claim a lineage long turned to dust.
“My name is Lyra Snowdon,” said more gently. “I‘m a disciple of the fallen Sword Sect. If you bear that legacy, then we are family, not enemies, there’s no need to fight.”
“I told you, I’m no disciple.” Jared’s brow furrowed. “So what is it you want from me?”
“The truth,” Lyra answered, eyes fixed on like twin crescent moons. “Sword Sect was annihilated in level three, and only a handful of us survived the ascent. Very few outside those ranks could wield our art. Where did you learn it?”
So did rise from level three…
Jared exhaled. “I found a ruined gate on that level, and practiced a few patterns etched on the walls. I didn‘t know it belonged to your Sect until this moment.”
A shadow of sorrow crossed Lyra‘s face. “Then that ruin was once our mountain stronghold. Strange fate, that someone would still glean strength from its ashes.”
“Your gift for the sword is remarkable,” went on. “Rank means little, yet your understanding runs deep. That last strike held a purity even I struggle to reach.”
Jared blinked, caught off guard by praise from a stranger who had tried to skewer moments earlier.
“Since destiny led you to our techniques, you share a bond with the Sword Sect.” Lyra’s tone brightened. “You seem new to Swordmaster City. I’m on my way to meet an elder, our steward in this city…”
“Come with me! He’ll want to see you, and you may find guidance you never knew you needed.”
Jared’s eyes narrowed, a spark of calculation flaring behind them. If followed Lyra to meet the Sword Sect’s contact, might unearth precious scraps of intelligence, perhaps even a clue to Malevolent Path Hall’s whereabouts.
“Very well,” said with an easy nod. “We’ve only just reached Swordmaster City ourselves and could use a reliable guide.”
At Jared’s agreement, Flaxseed, still muddled by the exchange yet trusting his friend’s instinct, fell in step beside them.
They threaded through the humming avenue, and Jared angled his head toward Lyra. “That swordsman you crossed blades with at the gate, Kael Windham of Sacred Sword Manor, do the two of you share some old score l should know about?”
