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Night draped the forest in a heavy silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves swaying in the wind. The moon cast pale light through swaying branches, creating shifting shadows across the ground. Ryan stood in a small clearing, still trying to calm his breathing from his earlier training.
Then—
A faint sound.
Bushes whispered.
A presence emerged.
Ryan instinctively turned and raised his sword—only to freeze the moment he recognized the silhouette leaning against a tree trunk.
Scarlette Overland.
Her form was still draped in her black hooded cloak, the dim moonlight glinting faintly off her long crimson hair that spilled to her waist.
Ryan's heartbeat slammed painfully against his ribs.
"Oh, thank goodness…" He exhaled sharply, lowering his sword. "Scarlette, you scared the hell out of me! I—I didn't even sense you! I thought you were asleep!"
But Scarlette said nothing. She merely tilted her head slightly, her mismatched crimson‑lilac eyes narrowing beneath her veil. In her hand—
A tiny tree branch.
Ryan blinked several times, baffled.
A… tree branch? What does she plan to do with that?
She stepped away from the tree. The movement was small, subtle—but enough to make Ryan's instincts prickle uncomfortably at the back of his neck.
I didn't sense her at all. Not a hint. Not a single footstep… She's terrifying.
Scarlette's eyes tracked every tiny shift in his posture.
There was no warmth in her gaze.
Only cold assessment.
A predator observing its prey.
"Scarlette…?" he said more quietly.
Before he could say more—
SHWIP.
Something flickered.
Ryan tried to dodge, but—
CRACK—!
A sharp sting tore across his left cheek, so fast he barely registered the attack. Warm liquid trailed down his skin.
He touched his fingers to it.
Blood.
His eyes widened.
Scarlette still stood where she had been—leaning against the tree, holding that same tiny tree branch lazily in her palm.
"What—? How—?"
She didn't let him finish.
"You have a powerful build," Scarlette said bluntly, pushing off from the trunk and walking toward him with quiet, measured steps, "but your sword form is lacking."
Ryan stiffened. His instincts flared.
Her presence wasn't hostile… yet it was suffocating. Commanding. Heavy.
Each step she took pressed down against him like an invisible weight.
"When you hold the hilt," she continued, tone flat, "you grip too tightly. Your body reacts before your mind. Your movements become stiff. Predictable."
Ryan swallowed hard.
Scarlette kept approaching, slowly twirling the small branch between her fingers. Even the casual way she moved it made his skin prickle.
"And," she added softly, "you are trying to create a new sword form."
Ryan flinched.
She was right.
Dead right.
He didn't even deny it.
How does she know? How can she tell just by looking at me?
Scarlette stopped exactly three feet in front of him.
Close enough that Ryan felt the faint pressure radiating from her body.
"Your body," she said, "is not suited for the technique you're attempting."
Ryan stared at her, wide‑eyed.
She… was speaking more than usual. Explaining. Almost instructing.
This is new…
Scarlette lifted the branch, pointing it at him like a legitimate weapon.
"Swinging without thinking," she said coldly, "will lead to your demise."
Ryan felt a chill run down his spine.
He looked at the branch again.
Something was… off.
No… no way…
He noticed faint red aura swirling around the wood—barely visible, but undeniably there.
Recognition slammed into him like a boulder.
Aura…?! She's using aura through a tree branch?!
A rumor resurfaced in his memory:
"Some say she's already a transcendent‑rank swordmaster. They say she can manifest aura blades without a physical sword…"
Ryan had never believed it.
Until now.
Scarlette flicked the tree branch slightly.
A faint crimson line appeared on the ground where the tip had passed.
His eyes widened even more.
It's true… The rumors were true…
Scarlette watched him with silent amusement—an amusement she did not bother hiding.
"You're restraining yourself," she said matter‑of‑factly. "Your movements feel hesitant. You're holding back something. Or someone."
Ryan stiffened.
His chest tightened.
She was analyzing him with frightening accuracy. Too accurately. As though she saw straight through him.
Scarlette circled around him slowly.
Ryan did not dare move.
"You hesitate," she said, observing every inch of his posture. "Your aura falters. Your center shifts. Your stance collapses under pressure."
Ryan swallowed hard.
Scarlette clicked her tongue.
"…Sloppy."
Ryan twitched.
She looked at him directly—cold eyes sharp like a blade.
"Prepare yourself."
"A‑ah—wait—"
Scarlette didn't wait.
She moved.
One moment she was standing still—
The next, she charged.
Her speed was unreal—fluid like water, precise like lightning. The tiny branch sliced toward him with a crimson arc.
Ryan reacted purely on instinct, ducking back and unsheathing his sword in a single motion.
CLANG—!
The branch clashed with his blade.
Only—
It didn't feel like wood.
It felt like striking steel wrapped in condensed aura.
Ryan's hands trembled from the impact.
"Y‑you're really using a twig as a weapon?!" Ryan gasped.
Scarlette raised an eyebrow.
"Mm."
"That's not an answer!"
She didn't bother giving one.
Scarlette pivoted, launching another strike.
Ryan blocked again.
CLANG! CLANG! WHOOSH—!
The forest cracked with explosive pressure each time their weapons clashed. The tiny branch Scarlette wielded pulsed with crimson aura—an aura Ryan could feel prickling against his skin like static.
His arms strained beneath the force.
He felt the pressure of her strikes push him back, step by step.
She's… unbelievable! Her speed, her power… it's like sparring with a storm!
The air around them seemed to vibrate.
Scarlette twirled, her hair flicking through the air like a trail of fire. Her movements were elegant, almost dance‑like—yet every step held lethal precision.
Her aura intensified.
Ryan nearly buckled.
She's not even using her full strength… and I still can't handle this…
He gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to steady.
He parried another strike.
And another.
But each clash chipped away at his stamina.
He knew this wasn't a real battle—Scarlette wasn't killing him.
She was evaluating him.
Testing him.
Teaching him.
And it terrified him even more.
"You rely too much on instinct," Scarlette spoke mid‑combat, voice steady despite the flurry of movements. "Your thoughts scatter under pressure."
Ryan ducked under a sweeping strike, gasping for breath.
"I—h‑had no idea this was a training session!"
Scarlette snorted softly beneath her veil.
"Not training. Correction."
"This feels like murder—!"
Scarlette didn't respond. Instead, she slashed diagonally with the branch. A thin arc of red aura sliced through the air.
Ryan blocked so fast his arm jolted.
He staggered backward.
His breathing grew uneven.
Scarlette pressed forward relentlessly.
Her attacks were sharper.
Quicker.
Unpredictable.
Every strike she delivered forced Ryan to adjust, think, respond, or get hit.
This… This is a Swordmaster…
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