The cave was almost completely destroyed. Even so—through the strange persistence of a place that refused to die—it still looked like a cave because of its deep descent beneath the earth. That dark pit, which had not seen the light of the sun for thousands of years, had now become the stage of a battle.
"Haha! Do you really think you're capable of killing me?"
Shiro laughed—a mad laugh, the laugh of a man who feared no death. He stood there, his body swaying with the confidence of someone who believed he had already won before the battle had even begun. Opposite him stood the Great Elder, staggering slightly as the wind surrounded him from every direction.
The Wind Scroll was extremely common—it existed almost everywhere. It was not merely a combat technique, but the story of a lifetime. Originally, it belonged to one of the Three Stars, that legendary warrior. However, when rumors spread that he did not deserve his place among the Three Stars and that his strength existed only because of the scroll, the Star decided to do something no one had ever imagined.
He opened his scroll to the entire world.
"Whoever reaches my level using the Wind Scroll—I will personally give him my head!"
That was his declaration, and that was how the scroll spread to every corner of the world. Hundreds of years passed, yet not a single person reached his level. Because of that—and because of the pride of that forgotten Star—the Wind Scroll became as common as dust floating through the air.
---
"Wind Art!"
The Great Elder spoke and shot toward Shiro like an invisible arrow. His exhausted body instantly transformed into a human tornado, while the air around him groaned beneath his terrifying speed.
"Severing Wind Blades!"
A violent wave of wind swept across the cave, twisting around itself like a gigantic serpent before suddenly splitting into three parts. Each section became an axe forged from compressed air. The blades flew toward Shiro, slicing through the cave walls like butter while continuing to accelerate.
"How interesting..."
Shiro sighed in a bored tone, as though he were watching a child's game. Slowly, he raised one hand.
"Stone Giant Art."
The shattered rocks around him began to tremble.
They moved.
They gathered.
Massive chunks of stone intertwined and fused together until they formed two gigantic hands—each as large as an entire house.
"Giant's Fist!"
BOOOOOOM!
The wind collided with the stone fist.
The sound was like the sky itself splitting apart.
The wind scattered in every direction like fragments of shattered light. Shiro smiled as he moved the fist, now covered in deep cracks. The wind had already penetrated halfway through it and split it apart.
At the same moment, the second stone hand moved forward to unleash the same attack.
BOOOOOOM!
Before the fist could reach its target, a sudden explosion erupted.
Light—
No.
Not merely light.
It was radiance.
A bluish-white radiance, pure like the moon on a clear night.
The stone fist was forced backward by the overwhelming explosion.
"What... is that light?"
Shiro was stunned.
This was no ordinary light.
It was Moonlight—the legendary technique spoken of only within the sacred scriptures.
Even the Great Elder was momentarily shocked.
From within that dazzling radiance emerged a scythe.
It was pitch-black, long, and emitted an ominous aura, as though it were a fragment of the night itself.
Standing behind it was a young man with short black hair, a wide grin stretching almost to his ears, white clothes stained with blood, and emerald-green eyes that gleamed in the darkness.
"Light Art."
The moment the young man spoke, three pillars of light appeared behind him.
They were majestic—
No.
They were terrifying.
The instant Shiro and the Great Elder looked upon them, their hearts filled with fear and unease.
How could they not?
Soliman was using the Kingdom of Light Scroll!
Unless you belonged to the royal family, you could do nothing more than hear its name.
Its name alone was enough to terrify entire armies.
What, then, of its techniques?
That was why Soliman's father had invaded the Kingdom of Light, plunging it into war and chaos just to steal the scroll.
"Light Completion."
Soliman spoke.
The instant the words left his mouth, the pillars vanished, transforming into drops of light, like heavenly water.
Those drops rushed into his body.
Then—
He disappeared.
His speed was beyond belief.
He was not running.
He was flying above the ground.
The black scythe swung toward Shiro.
Shiro immediately raised both hands.
The two stone fists moved to block Soliman.
One of them was already cracked and on the verge of collapsing, so it remained behind the other fist, which was still at full strength.
But with a single strike from Soliman...
Both fists shattered into countless fragments.
Stone after stone crumbled into dust.
"Impossible... Why is he this strong?"
Shiro was completely shocked.
Before he could utter another word, Soliman had already reached him.
He raised his leg and kicked him.
Shiro was sent flying through the air, blood bursting from his mouth like a crimson fountain.
"This is impossible... How did he become this powerful?"
The Great Elder stared with his mouth wide open.
"It's because of the pillars that appeared earlier..."
The Great Elder quickly analyzed the situation—
But Shiro reacted even faster.
Suddenly, the cave shook violently.
Three new giants appeared.
They were smaller than the previous stone fists, yet they remained terrifying.
"Hmm... You really are strong. But how long can those powers possibly last?"
Shiro shouted before bursting into laughter.
A mad laugh.
The laugh of a man who knew something others did not.
Concern slowly appeared on the Great Elder's face.
Shiro's analysis was correct.
Soliman's sudden surge of power could not possibly last forever.
But Soliman did not care.
He charged toward Shiro once again.
---
The cave was soaked in blood.
The thick scent of blood suffocated the air itself.
That smell had even reached outside the cave, as though announcing to the world that something horrifying was taking place beneath the earth.
Amid the ruins stood Baran.
He held Narvik's Sword—that legendary blade.
He stood there with a mocking smile, while the coldness in his eyes was enough to freeze the blood in one's veins.
"Dyaso..."
Baran took one step.
Then another.
His voice was as calm as death itself.
"You made the wrong choice."
Without mercy.
Without hesitation.
And with enough power to split mountains—
He severed Dyaso's head.
The head fell to the ground.
It rolled for a short distance.
Then it stopped.
And silence engulfed the cave.