The air of the training ground hung low and heavy.
Torches burned at regular intervals,
and the surface of the pond rippled faintly.
Through it all came the sound of metal grazing metal,
mingled with the brief crossing of footsteps.
Today’s training was not a sparring match.
Aslo stood before them and said,
“Bido. Kallen.”
The two faced each other.
Kallen drew his sword,
but he did not thrust the tip forward.
His waist and shoulders were lightly loosened.
It was a stance meant for movement.
Bido also gripped her sword.
As if testing an unfamiliar sensation in her hand, she adjusted her hold on the hilt once.
Aslo said curtly,
“Begin.”
Kallen drew in a breath.
And his eyes—
began to turn red.
Bido missed that instant.
Kallen’s foot moved as though sliding sideways.
He had not drawn it out completely.
But the sensation just before it was drawn brushed through the space.
The feeling of a body moving one beat ahead.
Bido instinctively turned her head to follow.
Aslo’s voice reached her.
“Too late.”
Kallen stopped.
There had been no attack.
Only his position had changed.
Even so, Bido knew.
If she had been even a little later,
there would have been no “next.”
Kallen returned to his original place.
This time, even shorter.
Redness spread faintly around his eyes,
then seemed about to vanish.
Whether to draw it out or not—
at that boundary, Kallen wavered several times.
Left.
Right.
His toes brushed the floor,
and within the same area, his direction kept changing.
He was not fast.
But the rhythm was not steady.
Bido did not follow the tip of his sword.
She watched only Kallen’s eyes.
The instant the redness began to rise.
Bido drew out Mirkin.
A feeling of the air sinking.
The sensation Kallen had been about to draw out was severed in midair.
His body tried to move,
but could not.
It was not that the movement itself had been blocked,
but that the “continuity” had been cut off.
The redness spreading in Kallen’s eyes failed to fill them completely,
and faded thinly away.
Kallen let out a short breath.
“...So this is.”
He tried once more.
Redness began to spread in his eyes.
Bido drew out Mirkin.
Again.
His eyes began to redden.
Bido drew it out first.
Kallen’s red stopped halfway every time.
As though a door, just before it opened,
had its handle pulled and held in place.
Kallen tilted his head slightly.
“It won’t come out.”
Bido did not answer.
Her breathing had grown shallow.
Drawing out Mirkin once was fine.
The problem was,
every single moment.
Aslo said,
“Good.”
And without taking even a beat to pause,
he continued,
“Again.”
Kallen’s eyes began to turn red again.
Before that redness could spread, Bido drew out Mirkin.
The air of the training ground sank deeper.
This was the first step.
What would be over the moment it was permitted—
not permitting it.
Bido could not steady her breathing as she held her sword.
Her body was still,
but inside, she was running without end.
Aslo looked at Bido and said,
“Now we move on.”
Kallen drew in a breath again.
Only the sign of redness coloring the corners of his eyes
wavered precisely at that line.
It rose, then stopped,
rose again, then stopped.
With Mirkin drawn out, Bido held that wavering in place.
Each time Kallen’s redness tried to spread,
she did not let it reach the end.
Her breaths grew short.
In that state—
Bido drew out Idrin.
Her heart was pulled deep once.
The life force that began there swept rapidly through her body.
And power began to flow into the sword.
Bido turned that flow back toward the blade.
The sword rang.
A short, distinct resonance.
At the same time, Bido
gathered Mirkin even more tightly into one place.
So it would not scatter.
So it would not overflow.
That was when it happened.
The hand gripping the sword grew hot.
As if the hilt were heating up,
a burning pain seared the inside of her palm.
Beneath both eyes, too.
Heat surged up from under her skin.
Hot, sharp—
an unavoidable omen.
Bido drew in a breath.
The resonances overlapped in her ears.
First came the pain,
and after that—
the night she had not been able to stop.
The strength left Bido’s fingers, then clenched again.
No.
Before that thought could end, her body moved first.
Bido raised Mirkin.
The air loosened all at once.
The sword’s resonance was cut off as well.
Kallen’s redness also failed to spread to the end and sank away.
Bido did not lower the tip of her sword.
She only exhaled.
Once,
then again.
Her palm was still hot,
and beneath her eyes, it throbbed with heat.
She was afraid.
Not of the pain, but of what came next.
Aslo said nothing.
He did not approach.
He only watched.
Bido closed her eyes once.
With Hajin, it had been different.
The sword had rung,
and she had not lost that state until the end.
Back then, her hand had not grown hot.
Bido adjusted her grip on the hilt again.
This time,
she would not end it before the pain came.
Redness began to spread in Kallen’s eyes again.
Bido drew out Mirkin.
And she drew out Idrin.
Power flowed in,
and Bido turned that flow back into the sword.
The sword rang.
This resonance was clearer.
Beneath both eyes, it prickled.
Red scales rose shallowly over her skin.
Bido thought she had grasped it.
But—
Kallen’s eyes
were still dyed red.
Only then did Bido realize.
While she had been focused on the sword’s resonance,
she had missed Kallen’s “spreading.”
Kallen’s toes slid sideways.
This time, it was not a sign,
but the movement itself that was different.
A feeling of the air moving one beat ahead.
Bido instinctively lifted her head.
If she was late, it was over.
Bido gritted her teeth.
She gathered Mirkin deeper.
The air sank again.
Kallen’s redness
tried to spread for exactly one more instant, then stopped.
The movement was severed just before it could “continue.”
Bido drew in a deep breath.
This time, she would watch both at once.
Kallen’s eyes.
And her own sword.
With Mirkin drawn out,
Bido drew out Idrin again.
Power flowed in.
Bido turned that flow back into the sword.
The sword rang.
This resonance did not waver.
Her palm did not heat up.
Beneath her eyes did not burn.
Red scales rose clearly.
Kallen’s redness failed to spread to the end.
It tried to color his eyes,
then sank away completely.
A brief silence passed.
Kallen exhaled.
“...You did it.”
Only then did Bido let out her breath.
As if checking,
one by one, the things she had been holding.
Aslo said in a low voice,
“Both of you, take your stances.”
Kallen adjusted his grip on his sword.
This time, the tips of his feet had settled down.
He was no longer only wavering at the level of “presence.”
“Three times.”
Kallen spoke briefly.
As if confirming the rules.
Aslo only nodded.
Bido still had Mirkin drawn out.
Her sword, too, still held its resonance.
Her palm was not hot.
Beneath her eyes did not burn.
That made it even more frightening.
She knew that right now, she was in a stable state,
but she still had to “endure” it.
Kallen came in.
The first was honest.
Deep in a single stroke.
Bido raised her sword and received it.
The sound of iron meeting iron was pressed low.
The sword—
rang ever so faintly.
Bido did not amplify that resonance.
This was not a fight to show something.
It was a fight to endure.
While not losing sight of Kallen’s eyes,
she watched the tip of his sword at the same time.
If she looked at only one side, it was over.
The moment Kallen prepared the second,
redness began to color the corners of his eyes.
At the edge of Bido’s vision,
she sensed the red spreading.
Bido swallowed a breath.
She gathered Mirkin deeper.
The air sank again.
Kallen’s redness failed to spread to the end.
Instead, Kallen’s body moved “normally.”
The second was fast.
Kallen’s sword veered sideways and aimed for Bido’s flank.
Bido retreated half a step.
The tip of the blade grazed past, cutting through the air.
At that moment,
the sword rang once more.
The resonance traveled up the inside of her wrist.
Bido held on to that tremor.
So it would not fall apart.
Kallen hesitated for a moment.
It was not acceleration,
but rather a pause closer to the sensation of an opponent’s sword finding its proper place.
Kallen furrowed his brow ever so slightly.
The third was irregular.
Kallen did not come in broadly.
Instead, he only closed the distance.
Not the sword,
but his body first.
Once,
twice.
Each time he moved his feet, redness spread faintly around his eyes and vanished.
While not permitting that “spreading,”
Bido also tried not to let the sword’s resonance drop.
She had to hold both.
Kallen suddenly dropped the tip of his sword.
Feigning a strike below.
Then he immediately flipped his wrist and drew it upward.
If Bido’s blade was late,
the space beneath her neck would open.
Bido put strength into her right hand.
The sword rang briefly.
And Bido received it in one stroke, as though drawing a line.
It was not so much blocking
as “stopping.”
Kallen’s sword came to a precise halt atop Bido’s.
Bido stepped in.
The tip of her blade—
stopped beneath Kallen’s neck.
It did not touch.
The mere fact that it was there was enough.
Kallen’s eyes were not dyed red.
Unable to rise to the end,
it had sunk away.
Kallen exhaled.
“...Right.”
There was acknowledgment mixed into that single word.
It was not complete trust,
but at least the judgment that she “could not do it” had vanished from his face.
Bido started to withdraw the tip of her blade, then stopped.
The sign that her palm was about to grow hot
rose very faintly.
Beneath her eyes, too,
there was a brief sting.
The moment Bido sensed that omen,
she lowered the sword’s resonance by one level.
Mirkin, too,
she did not draw any deeper.
The air loosened.
Kallen stepped back.
Yeonhwa and Taejin breathed quietly.
No one spoke.
Aslo said,
“We do it again after the meal.”
Bido lowered her sword.
Only then
did she feel her body collapse.
Her breath poured out all at once.
Her chest pounded hotly.
The sensation of forcibly holding,
and holding again, the flow that had begun at her heart loosened belatedly, leaving her whole body heavy and hollow.
Her head hurt.
Because she had been holding on to the thought that if she missed even the smallest thing, it was over.
Kallen’s eyes.
The sensation of the sword ringing.
The heat in her palm and beneath her eyes.
With Mirkin drawn out,
all of it at once.
Bido bent her knees,
then sank down onto the floor.
It felt as though she had run at full speed all day.
Her legs had stayed still,
but inside, she had kept running.
Her breath felt as though it would break.
Her head throbbed.
Still unable to let go of her sword,
Bido braced a hand against the floor.
But
this was still only the beginning.