Chapter 164 — Where Blades Speak
The night camp was raised after more than half the distance had been covered.
Men collapsed where they sat. Horses steamed in the cooling dark. Armor was loosened but not removed. No one had strength for conversation beyond murmurs.
But Selene did not rest.
The reinforcement route had leaked.
She was certain of it.
If they slowed, the enemy would prepare.
Which meant the enemy was watching.
Earlier that evening—
Sir Caelum, leader of [Dragon Piercer], returned from reconnaissance with fifty cavalry knights. No banners. No noise.
They had found a forward demon detachment preparing a barricade.
Half-constructed.
Unfinished.
Unready.
They disposed of it quietly.
The bodies were staged to resemble a failed bandit encampment.
No alarm.
No pursuit.
Only Selene was informed.
“They weren’t expecting us this soon,” Caelum reported.
“Barricades half-raised. Supplies not distributed.”
“And you masked it as bandit work.”
A rare nod from Selene.
“Well done, Dragon Piercer. Rest. Tomorrow we force-march.”
Guards rotated.
Perimeters tightened.
The army slept.
Or tried to.
Ivaline remained awake with [Four Bastion].
And, for reasons no one fully understood, [Grim Vulture] had “coincidentally” joined their fire.
“Hey, Little [Silver Ward], say aaah~?”
“Get off my husband, you parasite.”
Lyra leaned from the left, holding a skewer toward Ivaline’s mouth.
Seraphine blocked her with perfect deadpan hostility.
Garrick laughed so hard he wiped tears.
The Vulture members apologized with awkward smiles.
The Bastion members looked… resigned.
Around them, other adventurers cast glances.
Some hoped Ivaline would accept another duel tonight.
Rivel had withdrawn to sit with adventurers from Lethrain.
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Even prodigies needed their own circles.
The camp felt… almost normal.
Almost.
Then it happened.
Not a sound.
Not a shout.
Silence.
The kind that crawls across the spine.
An oppressive aura rolled over the camp.
Cold enough to chill breath.
Sharp enough to imagine skin splitting without contact.
Copper-rank adventurers stiffened.
Iron-rank hands hovered near hilts.
Silver-rank and above maintained composure—
—but only barely.
Only Ivaline’s circle remained physically unaffected.
Pressure pressed.
Weapons ready to drawn.
[Four Bastion].
[Grim Vulture].
Only one person did not react.
Ivaline continued chewing her skewer.
“…”
Someone approached.
A woman in black swordsman robes.
Her right eye covered by thin cloth.
Onyx left eye fixed on one person.
Only one.
[Silent Edge] Vaelis.
She walked.
Just walked.
Yet each step felt like entering someone else’s territory uninvited.
Copper ranks trembled.
Iron ranks swallowed.
Silver ranks endured.
Ivaline chewed.
“Did you eat?”
“…..”
Vaelis said nothing.
“Want a bite?”
“…..”
Silence.
“Is that so?”
“…..”
Silence.
“… Let me finish this first.”
Vaelis gave a single nod.
Whispers spread.
“They’re talking…”
“No words—”
“But they’re talking.”
When Ivaline stood—
Something shifted.
Vaelis’ aura was a blade-domain.
Enter, and be cut.
Ivaline’s presence was different.
Not territorial.
Not restrictive.
It allowed entry—
—but answered in kind.
Two domains touched.
Air tightened.
“Ivaline…” Seraphine’s voice was soft.
The bracelet on her wrist flickered.
A thought flowed.
Believe in me.
“… I will.”
Seraphine signaled retreat.
Everyone withdrew.
Leaving a perfect circle.
Two swords.
No noise.
“[Silver Ward] versus [Silent Edge]…”
“Gods… we’re witnessing this?”
“They’ve never lost a duel.”
“Last night she didn’t lose. She just couldn’t move.”
Murmurs faded.
Vaelis focused.
For nearly a decade she had searched.
For one flaw.
One answer.
The reason she had been expelled from sacred ground.
The stone formation had reacted.
To this girl.
If it had not lied—
Then the answer stood before her.
For the first time since learning the sword—
Vaelis spoke.
“I am Vaelis. [Silent Edge]. Ex-pupil of the Sword Saint.”
The camp inhaled.
Her voice was soft.
Elegant.
Gentle.
The opposite of her killing aura.
No one had ever heard her introduce herself.
“[Silver Ward]. Ivaline.”
A pause.
“This time… I will not lose.”
Domains collided.
Silence consumed the camp.
They did not move.
Yet they had already begun.
A copper-rank whispered,
“Senior… why aren’t they attacking?”
“They already are.”
“I saw nothing!”
“You aren’t looking.”
The boy strained.
And this time—
He glimpsed it.
Phantom strikes.
Imagined exchanges.
A hundred outcomes born and killed in the space between blinks.
Shift.
Intercept.
Parry.
Counter.
Reset.
Jump.
Glide.
Cut.
Lock.
Stab.
Withdraw.
Every angle.
Every organ.
Every tendon.
Head.
Shoulder.
Wrist.
Neck.
Heart.
Each saw different deaths.
Each smelled different blood.
Yet no steel had moved.
“… They’re even.”
“No.”
“Vaelis has the edge.”
Veterans frowned.
If this continued—
Ivaline would lose.
Her pressure could not break Vaelis’ defense.
Her blade met an unbreachable wall.
“Grr…”
Rivel bit his lip until it bled.
Selene arrived, whip coiled in hand.
If this turned real—
She would stop it.
“… Huff…”
Ivaline’s breath staggered.
Vaelis remained composed.
‘I cannot break through.’
Chronicle answered.
Then perhaps you need not.
‘…?’
Like with Nicole.
Memory surfaced.
She was never good with words.
So she let him speak.
Here—
She could not penetrate.
So she changed tone.
Let her come.
Ivaline’s assault ceased.
Not surrender.
Invitation.
Her stance shifted.
From I will cross you.
To—
Cross me.
Vaelis’ brow tightened.
She increased pressure.
Dared Ivaline to step forward.
Ivaline did not.
Pressure intensified.
Insulting.
Provoking.
Ivaline held.
Eye to eye.
Unmoving.
Daring.
Commit.
Silence stretched.
And for the first time—
Vaelis moved.
Her foot crossed the invisible line.
And the night shattered.
