The Sword That Silenced the Street
Rias stepped forward.
The movent was unhurried. Controlled.
The shattered street still trembled from the earlier clash, broken tiles crunching beneath her embroidered red shoes. Smoke drifted lazily through the air, sunlight filtering through dust like pale gold threads. Yet when she moved, it was as though the world slowed to watch.
The crowd’s attention shifted toward her instinctively.
She stopped a short distance from Harrier and inclined her head slightly. Crimson silk stirred at her waist, gold sash glinting faintly. Her voice carried clearly despite the tension coiled around them.
"Uncle Harrier," she began, tone calm yet firm, carrying just enough authority to still the murmurs around them, "we appreciate your kindness. However, we can’t bear to sacrifice so many lives for us. Life and death are up to fate. We have seen everything that the Taylor family has done today. If we can leave here alive today, we will definitely repay Uncle Taylor’s kindness in the future."
Her words were neither dramatic nor desperate. They were asured. Grateful.
Harrier’s fingers tightened around his broadsword. For a brief mont, the fierce King Realm aura around him flickered—not with weakness, but with emotion.
He had expected fear. Perhaps pleading.
Not this.
Behind her, Selena stood silent, silver-white hair drifting softly in the dust-laden wind. Her snow-white robe clung lightly to her slender waist, pale blue sash accentuating the natural curve of her hips. Beneath the fitted fabric, her posture remained straight and composed, the faint chill of restrained Mana lingering under her porcelain skin.
Rias’s words stirred sothing deep within Harrier’s chest.
Harrier Taylor—felt a warmth he had not anticipated. At least they were not ungrateful. At least they understood the weight of what he was risking.
He exhaled slowly.
"Young lady," he said, voice firm and resonant despite the chaos around them, "I will definitely take care of today’s matter."
It was not a boast.
It was a vow.
Clint Zain’s lips curled faintly.
"Hmph, stubborn."
His patience was thinning. His gaze hardened as Mana surged faintly along the veins of his arms.
Just as he was about to raise his hand and give the order to attack—
A soft tallic whisper cut through the air.
Selena stepped forward.
The motion was smooth, almost graceful.
In one fluid movent, she drew her sword.
The blade glead.
A faint Athyst sheen rippled along its edge like mist caught in morning light.
Instantly, everyone’s attention shifted.
The tension on the street thickened.
"This is..."
A murmur rose from the gathered experts.
"Athyst Mist Sword?"
"Isn’t that Respected Zeon’s sword? Why is it in this girl’s hands..."
Clint’s pupils contracted.
Even as a King Realm expert of the older generation, there were certain nas that still carried weight in his mory.
Respected Zeon.
The forr master of Athyst Summit Division.
A pinnacle Realm existence whose presence alone had once suppressed major households, powerful sects, and ancient lineages across the region.
That blade—
That sword had witnessed storms of blood and silence.
Clint’s heart trembled faintly.
Harrier burst into laughter, sharp and almost triumphant.
"Haha... It really is the Athyst Mist Sword."
The mont he saw it, the fog in his mind cleared.
A symbol like that was not casually handed down.
If Selena carried that blade...
She was not rely a student.
She was the successor.
The one chosen to inherit Leon’s path.
Suddenly, Harrier understood the scale of what stood before him.
Was it worth it?
Yes.
More than worth it.
Clint’s expression darkened.
"Exactly who are you?" he demanded, voice losing so of its earlier confidence.
Selena stepped fully into view.
Her silver hair shimred faintly beneath the broken sunlight. She held the Athyst Mist Sword upright before her, the blade steady, her blue eyes clear and cold.
"I am Selena," she said evenly, voice calm but unwavering, "the First Student of Athyst Summit Division’s master, Leon."
The street fell silent.
Even the wind seed to pause.
"Leon..."
A ripple passed through the crowd.
For so, the na ant little.
For others—
It was thunder.
Vita Zain’s face drained of color.
"No... that’s impossible."
His voice trembled despite himself.
He wanted to deny it.
But the sword in her hand offered no room for doubt.
He had seen Leon once.
Not face-to-face—but from a distance.
He had witnessed Leon defeat two King Realm experts with a single strike. The image still haunted him like a scar burned into mory.
That man’s aura had been suffocating. Cold. Unfathomable.
And this girl stood here claiming to be his direct student.
His mouth went dry.
Clint’s face turned ashen. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head toward his son.
The look he gave Vita Zain was not loud.
It was worse.
It was quiet fury.
This incompetent child had claid she was an ordinary girl.
Ordinary?
A successor of Athyst Summit Division?
Clint’s jaw clenched.
The Celestis Academy was not inferior to Sky Breaker Acedmy. In fact, in strength, it might even surpass it. And Leon...
Leon was not soone easily provoked.
Behind Clint, two Zain experts stepped closer, their voices lowered.
"Patriarch... what should we do now?"
They had heard of the incident in the Forsaken Domain. They knew what had happened to those who offended Leon.
This matter had suddenly grown far beyond a street dispute.
Clint’s breathing grew heavier.
"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath. "No wonder Harrier was willing to stand against us. So this was his bet. He wagered on Celestis Academy."
His eyes flicked toward Selena again.
Divine Ice Bones.
A future successor.
What had seed like prey had suddenly beco a thunderbolt waiting to strike.
Beside her, Rias leaned slightly closer, red eyes curious rather than frightened.
"Senior Sister," she asked softly, genuine puzzlent in her tone, "where did this sword co from? Why do they look so fearful?"
Selena blinked faintly.
She did not fully understand either.
"I don’t know," she admitted quietly. "Teacher once told that the Athyst Mist Sword has been the first sword of Athyst Summit Division for generations. Most of its fa cos from Respected Zeon. But Teacher has never spoken much about Grandmaster to ."
Her fingers tightened subtly around the hilt.
"He only told that if I ever encountered these old fellows in the future, I would be safe as long as I took out this sword."
She glanced around at the frozen Zain experts.
"Our Grandmaster must have been a peerless expert. Otherwise... they wouldn’t fear it this much."
Rias’s eyes brightened slightly.
"I see..." she murmured. "I didn’t expect Athyst Summit Division to have such a formidable grandmaster beyond Teacher."
Relief flickered briefly across her face.
It seed... today’s calamity might yet be averted.
Neither of them had realized that Leon had left such a shield behind.
The Athyst Mist Sword glead quietly in Selena’s grasp.
No one moved.
The Zain family experts, monts ago ready to surge forward, now stood rigid—caught between ambition and fear.
Once the Athyst Mist Sword appeared, sure enough, all the experts of the Zain family didn’t dare to move.
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