The eagle in the sky noticed the sudden incoming slash. With a swift sidestep, it narrowly avoided the attack—feathers drifted down from above as it passed.
Fury surged in the eagle's heart. Even a clay figurine can feel anger—let alone a battle-hardened veteran of the underground world.
Flapping its massive wings mid-air, the wind it stirred didn't disperse outward, but instead gathered densely in front of its chest, slowly forming into a swirling vortex.
This was a technique the eagle had developed itself. Anyone caught in this storm wouldn't die instantly—but they'd certainly be torn apart.
In fact, during one experiment, the eagle had reduced a five-meter-tall beast to minced flesh with this very move.
"Go!"
The wind in the vortex swirled like blades. Even from afar, its destructive force could be felt.
Down below, the five who were dragging Weiss looked frustrated and powerless.
Weiss was just too fast. So fast that unless he allowed you to hit his sword, you couldn't even touch him.
It was like he pitied your repeated failure—so he'd let you land a single clash, just to give you some dignity.
...
...
Seeing the seemingly small storm descending from the sky, the five immediately backed away. They had witnessed its terrifying power before.
Weiss, too, could feel the overwhelming force contained within. That familiar form of windstorm... he was certain he'd seen something like it before.
"All flash and no substance."
He drew his sword. As the blade hummed with energy, the ground beneath him reacted—the grains of sand vibrated, leapt, and gathered into a shallow cloud that wrapped around his feet.
"What's he planning? Is he really going to tank it from this close?" Belle asked in disbelief. No one around him responded—they were all too stunned by Weiss's actions.
"Just a normal strike," Weiss muttered.
He slashed.
A scarlet line, nearly invisible to the naked eye, burst from his sword tip—like a red thread floating in the sky. Drawn by the wind, it soared toward the storming vortex falling from above.
Whoosh!
The moment the scarlet slash met the vortex, it was as if the entire storm engine seized up—its spinning halted abruptly, then split cleanly down the middle.
Without balance, the cyclone shattered in the air. Blades of wind, sharp as knives, sliced through the surrounding coconut trees. Cracks spread across their trunks with harsh snaps before the trees collapsed to the ground.
Weiss didn't wait.
Taking a step with Moonwalk, he flashed beside the eagle in the blink of an eye.
His sword raised slightly, exposing the hilt.
"What—what are you doing?!" the eagle stammered in alarm.
Thunk!
Weiss answered with action. He gripped the hilt with both hands and slammed the pommel into the eagle's skull like a heavy punch. A dull thud echoed out.
The eagle's mind went blank from the blow. His vision swam, and he could no longer maintain his transformed state. Midair, he reverted into human form and crashed onto the beach.
Boom!
The impact carved a deep crater into the shoreline. Seawater quickly gushed into the hole.
If the man hadn't jolted awake and leapt out just in time, he would've drowned in the pit.
"I thought you were a greatsword master! Why the hell are you punching people?!" the man shouted, clutching his bleeding head, humiliated and enraged.
But his balance faltered. He staggered, nearly falling over again.
He had been preparing to dodge a slash—not that.
"Don't be ridiculous. I used the sword's hilt. If you don't believe me, check the lump on the back of your head—it's the perfect size," Weiss said casually, relieved. Killing him would've meant no ransom.
He finally landed on the sand, stretching out. Constant use of Moonwalk was tiring, after all.
"See? Isn't standing on the ground much better? I'm not wasting energy swinging at the sky anymore."
Suddenly—
A slash came from behind.
Weiss's expression changed in an instant. The casual air vanished. He was now like a sword freshly drawn from the forge—sharp, radiant, lethal.
He turned.
Clang!
Steel clashed as he deflected the sneak attack. The sword energy scattered into shimmering particles, like falling stars vanishing into the sky.
Weiss's gaze turned icy.
He sheathed his long sword, and a small, slender blade appeared in his hand. His eyes locked onto the attacker—a man frozen in a slashing pose, having tried to strike while Weiss's back was turned.
The man had seen Weiss distracted, chatting with the eagle, and thought it the perfect chance.
He hadn't expected to fail—much less enrage the swordmaster.
And he knew: He had committed the greatest taboo—trying to ambush a swordsman.
He stared at Weiss's short sword with dread. He'd seen this type before—back when he had once foolishly challenged the world's top swordmaster… and lost.
The judgment then: You're not worthy of the title 'swordmaster.'
Weiss said nothing. But the overwhelming sword intent gathered into the little blade.
To Weiss, this man didn't deserve respect. Swordsman or not, anyone who struck from behind was nothing but a coward.
The air by the sea grew suffocating. Even Belle clutched her chest, gasping for breath.
Even the sun seemed afraid—hiding behind a veil of clouds.
"Watch out! We can't let the Sword Demon kill Kost! If he dies, none of us are getting out of here alive!" the eagle warned grimly, ready to intervene.
It wasn't sentiment. They had only teamed up temporarily. But if one of them fell, their odds of surviving Weiss would plummet.
"Save him? Can you even manage that?"
Kost's face twisted. Without hesitation, he raised his sword and held it across his throat. He didn't think he could outdraw Weiss—but he gambled that Weiss would strike for his neck.
If he could block the first blow, help might arrive in time.
He and Weiss passed by each other in a blur.
Suddenly, Weiss stood behind him. The five who had rushed to save Kost froze—as if time itself had stopped.
Kost felt… nothing.
No pain. No wound. For a moment, he thought he had survived.
"You are not worthy of the title 'swordmaster.'"
Weiss's voice came from behind.
Then—agony bloomed in his chest, shooting to his mind. He looked down.
A clean wound opened over his heart. Blood poured from it.
The same words. The same short sword.
Only this time… he wouldn't survive.
With Kost dead, the remaining five stood together, knowing better than to try fighting one-on-one.
Their only chance was to strike all at once from different directions. At least some of them might land a blow.
It was the only strategy left.
They had badly underestimated their opponent.
"You five," Weiss said, turning with a grin. His sword pointed straight at them. "I've surrounded you. Surrender now!"
---
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