Made this to improve writing style for my main story.
credits to original owners of both franchise.
Chapter 2.
Bang! Echoes of explosion rang out as a sword slash filled with ice profound energy and sword intent uprooted several trees, gouging out the earth. The very air seemed to tremble with the force of the strike, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.
In the midst of this chaos, a woman fought for her life, her every movement a dance between life and death. The silver shadows rushed like lightning, each one the size of a house, their scales gleaming with an otherworldly light. The beasts' ferocious mouths, set with rows of frightening teeth that could shred steel, opened wide and lunged forward with earth-shattering roars.
The woman's face turned ashen, her eyes widening as she swiftly constructed an ice barrier—a shimmering wall about thirty-three meters wide, its surface rippling with intricate frost patterns. The beasts' wide-open maws slammed into the barrier with tremendous force, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. They were thrown back, but the collision left large cracks spreading across the surface of the ice like a spider's web. Her elegant brows furrowed deeply, sweat beading on her forehead as she sensed the formidable strength of her foes.
Before her stood two massive silver dragons, each over a hundred meters long, their presence dominating the landscape. Their colossal, serpentine bodies reflected a cold, silvery light as they circled in the air, scales shimmering with every movement. They exuded an oppressive, toxic aura that seemed to poison the very air around them. The spirals of their movements locked the woman firmly in place, as if the sheer force of their presence was enough to bind her, the pressure threatening to crush her very being.
'Even if these beasts are merely Flood Dragons,' she thought to herself, her eyes narrowing in focus, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. "not good, their strength seems to be at the half step of the Emperor profound realm." The realization sent a chill down her spine, but she steeled herself, refusing to succumb to fear.
The dragons, sensing her determination, roared in unison, their cries shaking the air with terrifying force. Trees swayed, leaves tore from branches, and the ground itself seemed to quake beneath their fury. One of the Flood Dragons opened its mouth and spoke in a voice that was deep and thunderous, reverberating through the woman's very bones. "Foolish human, you dare approach the Dragon God's treasure... Die!"
The two Flood Dragons surged forward, their immense power sweeping across the battlefield like a tidal wave of destruction. The woman's gaze remained steady, her jaw set with grim determination as she raised her hands, conjuring a brilliant wave of ice. Countless shards of frozen energy shot forth, forming a protective storm around her, each shard glinting like a deadly diamond in the light.
The dragons collided with the storm, their massive bodies crashing against the icy defenses. For a moment, it seemed as if the barrier might hold, but then the force of their attack shattered it, sending glimmering fragments scattering into the air like a thousand broken stars.
She didn't falter, her resolve as unbreakable as the ice she wielded. With a swift motion that belied the desperation of her situation, she propelled herself into the air, her movements as graceful as falling snow, yet as precise as a surgeon's blade. Her profound energy surged, the air around her crystallizing as she summoned another ice barrier, reinforcing her position while simultaneously aiming a focused strike at one of the dragons.
The ice lance she conjured flew like a comet, its tip gleaming with concentrated energy. It struck the creature's scales with enough force to send it briefly spiraling back, a roar of pain and rage echoing across the battlefield. Scales as hard as steel cracked under the impact, a small victory in this hopeless battle.
But the other dragon was quick to retaliate, its maw opening wide to release a torrent of toxic energy that hissed and sizzled through the air. The woman twirled mid-air, her profound strength flaring as she created a barrier to deflect the noxious attack. The ground beneath her cracked from the pressure, fissures spreading outward like a spiderweb, but she remained steadfast, her resolve unyielding in the face of certain doom.
The dragons roared again, their auras intensifying to suffocating levels as they coordinated their next assault. The very air seemed to warp around them, charged with their malevolent intent. The woman braced herself, determination gleaming in her eyes like frostfire. She knew the odds were stacked against her, a mountain she had to move with sheer will, but she would face these monsters head-on, her icy will unwavering.
She faced both of them simultaneously, her senses stretched to their limits, every muscle coiled and ready to react. However, these weren't mere beasts she was fighting—they were dragons, vastly different from any foe she had faced before. Their bodies were far tougher than the strongest armor, their defenses much stronger than any fortress, and their regenerative abilities exceptional, wounds closing almost as quickly as they were inflicted. Even with her superior skill and power, taking on two Flood Dragons at once was akin to dancing on a razor's edge, with death waiting for the slightest misstep.
The male Flood Dragon roared in pain and fury as her ice sword carved deep gashes into its scales, each strike precise and calculated, targeting weak points in its seemingly impenetrable defenses. Blue blood, as cold as the deepest ocean, seeped from the wounds, sizzling as it hit the ground. But while the male dragon was occupied with her relentless assault, the female dragon was not idle. It circled around, its massive body coiling like a whip, muscles rippling beneath its silvery scales. With a deep intake of breath, it released a deafening roar that seemed to split the very heavens. The roar carried a shockwave of immense power, sending a pulse of wind and energy surging toward the woman like an invisible battering ram.
She felt the force bearing down on her, the very air becoming dense and oppressive. Swiftly, she spun her body, her hands weaving complex patterns as she formed a shield of ice in front of her. The shockwave collided with the shield, the impact sending tremors through her arms. For a moment, the barrier held, a testament to her skill and power. But then, with a sound like shattering glass, it broke apart, crystalline fragments sparkling like stars before dissipating into the ether.
The moment of distraction was all the male dragon needed. It lashed out with its claws, each as long as a man is tall, swiping toward her with ferocious speed that belied its massive size. The woman twisted her body midair, her heart pounding as she narrowly evaded the blow. The razor-sharp claws missed her by mere inches, close enough that she could feel the wind of their passing on her skin. But the sheer force of the attack created a shockwave that sent her flying backward, tumbling through the air like a leaf in a storm.
With supreme effort, she stabilized herself, her ice domain still active but flickering like a candle in the wind. She knew it was taking a toll on her profound energy reserves, each second of combat draining her further. Time was not on her side, and the dragons knew it.
The female dragon, sensing weakness, seized the opportunity to press its advantage. Its massive jaws opened wide, unhinging like a snake's as it unleashed a torrent of wind imbued with slicing energy blades. The wind roared like a hurricane, each blade of air sharp enough to cut through stone, as it hurtled toward the woman with deadly intent.
In response, she raised her ice sword, a beautiful yet deadly creation that seemed to absorb the very light around it. She channeled her profound energy into the blade, causing it to glow with an intense, arctic light. With a cry that carried all her determination and desperation, she swung it with all her might.
A crescent of icy energy shot out from her sword, a wave of pure cold that left frost in its wake. It collided with the wind blades in a spectacular display of power, the two forces clashing violently in mid-air. For a moment, they seemed evenly matched, light and wind and ice swirling together in a maelstrom of energy. Then, with a thunderous boom that shook the heavens, they exploded.
The force of the explosion sent shockwaves in all directions. Trees bent and swayed, their leaves stripped away in an instant. The ground cracked and buckled, and even the mighty dragons were momentarily sent reeling, their massive bodies buffeted by the backlash of their own power.
But the woman knew she couldn't afford to let up, couldn't waste a single precious second. With a burst of speed that pushed her already taxed body to its limits, she closed the distance to the male dragon once more. Her sword glowed with an icy light that seemed to draw strength from the very air around her, frost spreading in her wake as she aimed for the dragon's neck, seeking to make an opportunity to escape.
The male dragon, still reeling from the explosion, growled in alarm. It twisted its serpentine body with surprising agility, desperately trying to avoid the lethal blow. But it wasn't quite fast enough. The tip of her blade found its mark, grazing the dragon's flesh and leaving a long, deep wound that ran from its neck down to its shoulder.
The dragon roared in agony, its cry of pain shaking the very foundations of the earth. Blood gushed from the wound, staining its silver scales a deep, dark blue. Its movements grew more erratic, fury and pain driving it to new heights of aggression. The woman allowed herself a moment of grim satisfaction, but she knew the battle was far from over.
Sensing its mate's distress, the female dragon's eyes gleamed with a murderous light. With a roar that spoke of vengeance, it lunged toward the woman, its massive body moving with a speed that seemed impossible for its size. Its tail whipped forward like a battering ram, aiming to crush the woman in a single, devastating blow.
The woman's eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she calculated her options in the split second she had to react. She darted upward, her body a blur as she narrowly avoided the tail. The wind of its passing tugged at her clothes, a reminder of how close she had come to being smashed into oblivion. But she wasn't content with merely dodging. As she moved, she retaliated with a surge of frost energy that flowed from her hands like a river of winter.
The energy engulfed the dragon's tail, ice spreading rapidly across its surface. In moments, the tail was encased in a thick layer of magical ice, the cold so intense that the very air around it crystallized. The female dragon screeched, its movements momentarily hindered as the ice crept up its body, threatening to immobilize it completely.
For a heartbeat, victory seemed within reach. But before the woman could press her advantage, the male dragon, driven by pain and desperation, released another gust of poisonous breath, which forced her to evade, but in doing so disrupted her technique.
Free from its icy prison, the female dragon thrashed its tail, sending chunks of ice hurtling through the air. The woman was forced to dodge and weave, her breath coming in short gasps as fatigue began to take its toll. She knew she was reaching her limits, her energy reserves depleting with each passing second.
The two dragons, sensing her weakening state, roared together. Their combined cries shook the very earth below, a sound of primordial power that spoke of the ancient might of their race. Trees toppled, rocks crumbled, and the ground itself seemed to quake in fear of their wrath.
In response, the woman's expression grew colder, a mask of determination settling over her features. She gathered her profound energy, pushing herself to the very brink of her capabilities. Her ice domain intensified, the temperature plummeting to levels that would freeze a normal person solid in seconds. Snow and frost swirled around her in a vortex of winter's fury, and the air grew so cold that the ground and water beneath the dragons began to freeze, ice creeping across the landscape like living frost.
She couldn't let this battle drag on any longer. If she didn't finish one of them soon, her energy would be depleted, and the outcome would be disastrous. It was time for an all-or-nothing gambit, a final, desperate push that would either secure her victory or seal her doom.
With a resolute gaze that could have frozen flame, the woman focused all her remaining energy on the male dragon, the one she had managed to wound earlier. Her icy sword gleamed brighter than ever, pulsing with power that made the air around it warp and twist. She launched herself forward, her movements a blur that even the dragons' keen eyes struggled to follow.
The male dragon, sensing the threat, tried to swipe at her with its claws. But she was too fast, her body moving with a grace and speed born of desperation and iron will. She dodged, ducked, and weaved through its attacks, each motion as precise and beautiful as a dance, yet as deadly as an assassin's blade.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of lethal choreography, she saw her opening. The male dragon reared back, its chest expanding as it prepared to unleash another gust of poisonous breath, exposing its vulnerable throat. Time seemed to slow as the woman poured every ounce of her remaining strength into her sword, the blade glowing so brightly it was painful to look at directly.
With a cry that carried all her determination, all her fury, all her will to live, she thrust her sword forward with unerring precision, aiming for the dragon's exposed throat. The air itself seemed to part before her blade, frost trailing in its wake as it sped toward its target.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans. At the last possible moment, the male dragon displayed an agility disproportionate to its size, twisting its long neck in a way that should have been impossible. The woman's eyes widened in disbelief as her blade, which should have struck a killing blow, merely grazed the dragon's scales.
Realizing her strike had missed its mark, she didn't hesitate. With lightning-fast reflexes, she redirected her sword, using the momentum of her charge to slam the flat of the blade against the dragon's neck. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, and while it didn't inflict the fatal wound she had hoped for, it did succeed in pushing the beast back, gaining her a precious moment of respite and a bit of distance.
As she retreated, putting space between herself and the dragons, the reality of her situation began to sink in. Her last, desperate gambit had failed, and with it, her best chance at victory had slipped away. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her limbs trembling with exhaustion, and her profound energy flickered like a candle in the wind.
The male Flood Dragon, recovering from the blow, raised its head. Its voice, deep and resonant, echoed across the battlefield with a hint of grudging respect tinged with cruel amusement. "Human, your strength is weakening. It appears you've reached your limit; despite being a peak of the Sky Profound Realm your strength is merely so."
The female Flood Dragon, emboldened by its mate's words, sneered, its voice dripping with contempt. "Insignificant human, you're not fit to contend with our dragon race. Your futile attempt to obtain a share of the Dragon God's treasure will only end in your destruction! DIE!"
The woman's face remained impassive, but inwardly, she knew the truth of their words. Her profound strength, while the same as the two Flood Dragons individually, was no match for their combined might. More critically, her endurance could not compare to theirs. Having flown for days, lost in this strange and hostile place, and now having endured a prolonged, fierce battle, her strength was visibly waning.
The male Flood Dragon, despite the injuries it had sustained, with red blood still seeping from beneath its broken scales, showed no signs of fatigue. Its vigor remained undiminished, a testament to the legendary endurance of dragonkind. The female Flood Dragon, virtually unscathed, radiated an aura of smug superiority. Their seemingly boundless energy bore down on her like a physical weight, threatening to crush her spirit along with her body.
As the battle wore on, the woman found herself more and more on the defensive. Her counterattacks, once sharp and precise, now weakened as her energy drained. She was left solely defending, each movement a struggle against her own exhaustion. Her petite frame swayed like a leaf in the storm generated by the two Flood Dragons, always on the verge of being crushed by their overwhelming power.
Finding herself cornered, backed against the metaphorical wall with no way out, a deep fury began to kindle in her beautiful eyes. It was the fury of the righteous facing injustice, of the weak standing against the strong, of life raging against the encroachment of death.
"We have no prior grievances," she spoke, her voice calm yet carrying a sharp edge of cold anger that cut through the din of battle. "Yet not only do you attack without reason, but you also seek to force me into a last stand..."
Her words were laced with resentment, each syllable dripping with the bitterness of one facing underserved doom. Yet beneath the anger, there was an undercurrent of steely resolve. Her determination was unwavering, a flame that refused to be extinguished even in the face of certain defeat.
"Since I am fated to die here, you must also... pay dearly!"
As she spoke these words, a change came over her. A deep blue radiance surged from her body, shooting straight into the heavens like a pillar of azure flame. The very air seemed to vibrate with the power she was calling forth, and in an instant, the temperature plummeted to a bone-chilling degree. A layer of ice, gleaming and beautiful yet deadly in its cold perfection, rapidly spread across the battlefield, encasing everything it touched in a frozen embrace.
The male Flood Dragon, sensing the change in the atmosphere, sneered, its voice a mixture of contempt and wary respect. "Human, is this your last stand? It's a pity; with your strength, you cannot harm the bodies of us Flood Dragons! Your efforts are futile."
But the woman's face remained serene, a mask of icy calm that belied the inferno of determination burning within her. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her ice sword, its blade glowing with an inner light that seemed to draw strength from the very air around it. She pointed it at the wounded male Flood Dragon, the tip steady despite her exhaustion.
When she spoke, her voice was sharp and icy, carrying the weight of her unbreakable will. "Before I die... I'll let you... die first!"
The air around her began to shimmer, reality itself seeming to warp as she called upon powers beyond mortal ken. Her voice rang out, clear and strong, as she invoked a technique of terrifying power.
"Frozen Cloud Forbidden Technique — Zeroth Aurora!"
In that moment, the woman became a streak of blue light, moving with a speed that defied comprehension. Her sword, a blue blur that left trails of frost in the air, headed straight for the male flood dragon with deadly intent. The very air seemed to freeze in her wake, ice crystals forming and shattering in the blink of an eye.
But even as her blade neared its target, fate intervened once more. The female flood dragon, reacting with speed that belied its massive size, darted to the side. Its jaws, lined with teeth as long as swords, snapped shut mere inches from the woman's body. Only her lightning-fast reflexes saved her, allowing her to dodge at the last possible moment.
Yet the reprieve was momentary. In the split second it took her to evade the female dragon's attack, the male flood dragon's tail whipped through the air like a giant, scaled whip. With a sickening crack, it connected squarely with the woman's body.
The impact was devastating. The woman's small frame was sent hurtling through the air like a rag doll caught in a hurricane. She crashed into the ground with bone-shattering force, the earth beneath her cracking and sending ripples across the surface of a nearby small lake. The sound of her impact echoed across the battlefield, a grim punctuation to what seemed to be the final act of this desperate struggle.
But even in the face of such overwhelming force, the woman's spirit remained unbroken. Despite the searing pain that wracked her body, despite the fact that every movement was an agony, she tried to rise. Her instincts, honed by years of training and countless battles, screamed at her to move, to evade, to survive.
She barely had time to roll to the side as the massive body of the male flood dragon came crashing down, its bulk leaving a crater where she had lain just moments before. The ground shook with the impact, loose stones bouncing and skittering away from the point of collision.
The blue light that had surrounded the woman faded, the last vestiges of her strength entirely drained. Her face, once flushed with the heat of battle, now paled to an ashen hue. Her body began to falter, no longer responding to her iron will. With the last of her strength, she managed to push herself to her knees, but it was clear that this was the extent of what she could manage.
Despite her dire situation, despite the pain that threatened to overwhelm her, the woman raised her head. Her eyes, though dimmed with exhaustion, still burned with an inner fire as she whispered coldly, "I'm only a passerby, yet you forced me into this corner... Death cannot wipe out your sins."
Her aura, once a blazing inferno of power, was now faint, barely perceptible. Her breathing was weak and labored, each inhalation a struggle against her battered body. She knew, with the clarity that comes in moments of extremis, that she had reached the end of her path. The forbidden technique she had used as a last resort had not only failed but had damaged her cultivation base, leaving her in a state from which recovery seemed impossible.
As this realization washed over her, the woman's head bowed. A single tear, glistening like a diamond in the harsh light, ran down her cheek. It was not a tear of fear or regret, but one of frustration, of rage at the injustice of her fate. She waited for death, knowing that even if by some miracle the flood dragons chose not to deliver the final blow, her own grievous injuries would claim her life soon enough.
Yet as she waited, braced for the killing strike that would end her existence, nothing happened. Confusion warred with her exhaustion as the expected attacks never came. Summoning the last dregs of her strength, she tried to look up, her vision blurry and unfocused.
What she saw defied belief. The pair of flood dragons, who moments ago had been intent on her destruction, were not looking at her at all. They remained floating in the air, their earlier hostility seemingly evaporated, replaced by an attitude that could only be described as wary respect. Their gazes were fixed on a point behind her, their massive bodies tense and alert.
With monumental effort, the woman managed to turn her head, glancing over her shoulder to see what could have caused such a dramatic change in her fearsome opponents. What she saw made her wonder if perhaps she had already died, and this was some sort of illusion conjured by her fading mind.
Standing just a few steps away was a young man. His hair was as white as the snow-capped peaks in the distance, a stark contrast to the desolation of the battlefield. His eyes, a warm amber color, seemed to radiate comfort and an inner strength that defied description. Despite the chaos and destruction that surrounded them, he stood calmly, his presence a pillar of tranquility in the eye of the storm.
As the woman's gaze met his, a single thought flitted through her fading consciousness: 'Ah, am I... saved?'
With that final musing, the last of her strength deserted her. Her eyes rolled back, and she fell backward, her body going limp as consciousness fled. The soft thud of her fall seemed to echo in the sudden, eerie silence that had fallen over the battlefield.
The newcomer, the young man with hair like snow and eyes like warm honey, took a few steps forward. His movements were unhurried, almost casual, as if he were out for a leisurely stroll rather than standing in the midst of a life-and-death struggle. He came to a stop just a few paces away from the fallen woman, his gaze moving from her still form to the two massive dragons that hovered in the air.
At first glance, there was nothing particularly remarkable about the man. His presence practically screamed ordinary, from his simple attire to his relaxed posture. He could have been any traveler, any passerby who had stumbled upon this scene by chance.
But there was one detail that belied this image of normalcy: in his hand, he held a sheathed black sword. The weapon seemed to absorb the very light around it, its presence a jarring contrast to the man's otherwise unremarkable appearance. It was this sword, perhaps, that gave the dragons pause, that made them hesitate where moments before they had been intent on destruction.
The dragons, their senses honed by millennia of Cultivation and countless battles, felt no profound energy coming from the man. To their perception, he might as well have been an ordinary mortal, a being so far beneath their notice that his presence here was an impossibility.
Yet that very impossibility was what made his presence all the more unsettling. No ordinary man, no matter how brave or foolhardy, could have reached the center of this wasteland. The journey itself would have been beyond the capabilities of any mortal, let alone surviving the myriad dangers that lurked in this forsaken place.
This paradox, the juxtaposition of the man's apparent ordinariness with the sheer improbability of his presence, made the two silver Flood Dragons wary. They found themselves questioning what level of the profound realm he might inhabit, what profound technique he might possess that could so completely mask his true cultivation. It was this uncertainty, this nagging doubt, that had stayed their claws when the male dragon had been about to deliver the final blow to the woman.
So they watched, their massive serpentine bodies tense and ready for action, as the man calmly walked over to the fallen figure of the woman. His every movement was measured, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world and no concern for the two massive predators that loomed over him.
The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the soft whisper of the wind and the occasional crackle of ice. It was a moment balanced on a knife's edge, where the slightest movement, the smallest spark, could ignite a conflagration that would make the previous battle seem like a mere skirmish.
As the man knelt beside the unconscious woman, his amber eyes never even glancing at the dragons, one question hung unspoken in the air: Who was this mysterious figure.
As he arrived at the place of conflict, the scene before him would have been a picturesque scene if not for what instead unfolded like a tragic painting. A woman, her body battered and broken, was flung to the ground by two serpentine dragons. Their silver scales gleamed in the harsh light, a stark contrast to the desolation surrounding them. In that moment, he knew with crushing certainty that he was already too late.
A wave of sadness and guilt welled up in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. The thought echoed in his mind, relentless and cruel: if only he had arrived sooner... she would have still lived. The weight of that realization settled on his shoulders like a physical burden.
When he arrived, he felt it - the exact moment when the woman fell back, and the breath of life disappeared from her body. It was as if a candle had been snuffed out, leaving only darkness in its wake. The knot in his chest only tightened as he remembered when she glanced back at him, her eyes filled with a fleeting hope, as if she had finally been saved. That last look, full of relief and expectation, bore into his soul like a nail.
He didn't know what to do. Thoughts of how he could have saved her, how he could have prevented everything, surged through his mind like a tempest. Yet, his expression remained calm on the outside, a mask of serenity that betrayed none of the grief raging in his heart. It was a skill born of forgotten years of practice, the ability to remain outwardly composed even as his inner world crumbled.
He did not know the woman; she was merely a stranger, another victim of the cruel world they inhabited. Stopping before her prone, lifeless body, he knelt and gently brushed aside a lock of her hair. The simple gesture felt inadequate, a poor substitute for the help he had failed to provide. But when his gaze fell upon her sword, something extraordinary happened.
In an instant, he glimpsed the life of the woman who had wielded it. Images flashed before his mind's eye, vivid and real as if he were living them himself. He saw that she was a disciple of a sect named Frozen Cloud Asgard, located in the extreme north. The name itself conjured images of icy peaks and snow-covered forests.
He witnessed rare moments of laughter, her eyes crinkling with joy as she shared a jest with her fellow disciples. He saw her descending from the sect's lofty heights to help the surrounding villages, her kindness a warm contrast to the cold environment she called home. The memories flowed faster now, showing her accompanying younger disciples to the Heavenly Sword Villa for the Blue Wind Ranking Tournament, her face set with determination and pride.
Then came darker visions - her pursuit of supposed "demons" that had tried to infiltrate the villa, injuring one of her sect's disciples. He felt her confusion and fear as she became lost in the Wasteland of Death, and finally, her desperate struggle against the two silver flood dragons that had ultimately claimed her life.
Closing his eyes, he let the memories sink in, each one a testament to a life lived with purpose and cut tragically short. He did not know, nor did he care for now, about the source of this strange power that allowed him to see the history of the weapon. All that mattered was that she had died with regrets, her journey unfinished, her potential unfulfilled.
With a heavy heart, he considered what he could do now, in this moment, to honor her memory and give meaning to her sacrifice. Picking up her sword, he stood, his movement fluid and purposeful. The two flood dragons seemed to flinch at the action, their massive bodies tensing as if preparing for an attack. He ignored them for now, his focus entirely on the fallen warrior before him.
She did not deserve to be left alone in this forsaken wasteland of beasts. The least he could do was deliver her body back to where she came from, to the icy peaks of Frozen Cloud Asgard where her sisters-in-arms could mourn her properly. Raising her sword, its blue blade glinting in the harsh light, he performed a diagonal slash through the air and spoke softly but clearly.
"Frozen Cloud Technique: Frozen Heaven Coffin."
His words rang out with a power that belied their softness. In response, the air around the woman's body began to shimmer and crystallize. Slowly, gracefully, her form was encased in a transparent crystalline coffin, preserving her as she was in life. The ice was clear as the purest diamond, allowing her peaceful face to be seen, as if she were merely sleeping.
After a moment of respectful silence, he finally turned to face the two floating flood dragons. His amber eyes, once warm and filled with sorrow, were now cold with indifference. The change was so stark, so sudden, that it seemed to unsettle the massive beasts before him.
Without warning, the male dragon finally attacked. When they saw those eyes, they felt it - a primal, instinctive knowledge that chilled them to their very cores. They would die. If they did not kill him first, they would surely perish. It was this realization that fueled their assault, a potent mixture of rage and primal fear driving them forward.
Arrogance that refused to accept that a mere human could elicit such an intense feeling.
Yet in the face of the two approaching flood dragons, their massive bodies blotting out the sky, the man calmly stood his ground. He showed no fear, no hesitation, as he looked up at the beasts that had ended the life of the woman he had come too late to save. In his left hand, he held the sheathed black sword, its hilt adorned with the symbol of yin and yang. In his right, he loosely gripped the naked blue sword of the fallen woman, its blade glinting with an inner light that seemed to pulse with barely contained power.
Just as the dragons appeared mere feet from him, their jaws open wide and ready to devour, he raised the blue sword. The air around him began to shimmer, reality itself seeming to warp as he channeled a power beyond mortal comprehension. His voice, when he spoke, carried an authority that seemed to make the very heavens take notice.
"Frozen Cloud Forbidden Technique — Zeroth Aurora."
The words hung in the air for a split second, a moment of perfect stillness before the storm.
The technique was the same used by the woman as when she decided to die but failed to take one of her opponents with her, the male flood dragon merely sneered, but…
Then, with a sound like shattering glass amplified a thousandfold, the world exploded into action. The blue sword in his hand became a blur of motion, leaving trails of frost in the air as it moved. The temperature plummeted instantly, the very moisture in the air freezing and falling as snow.
The one he performed was incomparable to the one used by the woman.
A wave of pure, unadulterated cold erupted from the sword, expanding outward in all directions with terrifying speed. Where it touched, it froze. The ground beneath their feet as well as the small lake within the clearing became a sheet of ice so cold it smoked. The air itself seemed to crystallize, forming intricate patterns of frost that hung suspended for a heartbeat before shattering into a million glittering shards.
The flood dragons, caught in mid-lunge, had no time to react. The wave of cold washed over them, their momentum carrying them forward even as ice began to form on their scales. They roared in pain and surprise, their cries cut short as the cold invaded their bodies, freezing them from the inside out.
In mere seconds, the once-fearsome beasts were transformed into massive ice sculptures, their forms perfectly preserved in the moment of their final attack. Their eyes, now clouded with frost, still held the look of shock and fear that had been their last emotion.
As the echoes of the technique faded, silence fell over the battlefield. Where once there had been chaos and destruction, now there was only an eerie stillness. The man stood alone, surrounded by a landscape transformed into a winter wonderland, colder than the surrounding area blotted in snow, the frozen bodies of the flood dragons looming over him like bizarre ice statues.
Slowly, he lowered the blue sword, its blade now coated with a thin layer of frost that sparkled in the dim light. The cold metal hissed softly as tiny ice crystals formed along its edge, a testament to the power he had just unleashed. His amber eyes, no longer cold and detached but filled with a deep, unreadable emotion, swept over the scene before him.
With a gentle motion, he lowered the woman's sword. The weapon seemed to weigh more than it should, burdened perhaps by the weight of its wielder's unfulfilled destiny. He placed it atop the crystalline coffin that held her body, the translucent surface reflecting a distorted image of her peaceful face.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his words barely audible, carried away by the whisper of a chill wind that swirled around them. "Your journey is over. Rest now." His voice cracked slightly, betraying a hint of the emotion he was struggling to contain. "I will see to it that you are returned to your home, and that your journey was not in vain." The promise hung in the air, as solid and real as the icy mist that clung to the ground.
Turning and walking towards the frozen sculptures of the two flood dragons, his brow furrowed. The massive creatures, once fluid and terrifying in their power, now stood as silent sculptures of ice. Their scales glittered like thousands of tiny mirrors, capturing and refracting what little light penetrated this somber place. For a moment, he stood transfixed, marveling at the beauty and horror of what he had wrought.
He pondered whether there had been a path to peaceful resolution, a way for both parties to coexist without bloodshed.
The conflict had arisen from a simple misunderstanding, as the dragons mistook her arrival for an intrusion upon what they deemed the treasure of their dragon God.
Shaking his head to dispel such thoughts, he acknowledged that what was done could not be undone, and lives lost could never be reclaimed.
Then, with a wave of his hand—a gesture both graceful and filled with finality—the ice sculptures shattered. The sound was deafening in the previous silence, like a thousand crystal glasses breaking at once. Shards of ice exploded outward, catching the light and creating a brief, beautiful aurora before falling to the ground like diamond dust.
He was about to turn back to the ice coffin, his mind already racing with plans for the journey ahead, when the world around him shifted. The ground beneath his feet, which had seemed so solid moments before, began to tremble. Cracks spread across the surface of the frozen small lake like a spider's web, the ice groaning in protest.
Before he could react, before he could even draw a breath to shout, the ground gave way entirely. The frozen lake crumbled, revealing not the expected shallow bottom, but a yawning chasm of darkness.
Then he fell.
The world spun around him as he plummeted into the abyss. The place where there once was a small lake had transformed into a massive hole, swallowing him whole. The last thing he saw as he fell was the crystalline coffin, teetering on the edge of the newly formed pit, a silent reminder of another task he had yet to complete. As darkness enveloped him, he couldn't help but wonder if this was nature's way of passing judgment or something awaited him at the bottom of this abyss.
The icy wind rushed past him as he descended into the unknown, leaving behind the scene of his recent battle and the solemn promises he had made. The black sword, still in his grip, glinting faintly with the fading light against the approaching darkness.
…..
Within Floating Cloud City, a new chapter of life had quietly begun, marked by the arrival of the mysterious woman Xia Hongyi had brought home.
A few days had passed since she had first awakened, her pale face framed by silken hair that fell like twilight shadows. Though she stirred with initial vigor upon seeing the sword resting beside her bed, the energy quickly left her, and it became heartbreakingly clear that her body was too frail to sustain her spirit. Her strength had been stripped from her, leaving her barely able to lift her head from the pillow. Worse still, her memories were a void—an endless expanse of nothingness.
When Xia Hongyi first asked her about her identity, his voice gentle yet probing, she could only close her eyes and shake her head. Tears brimmed, and her voice, when it finally emerged, trembled.
"I… I don't know. I don't remember," she whispered, frustration tinging her words. "Why can't I remember who I am?"
Her hands gripped the blanket weakly, her body trembling with the effort of holding back sobs. Xia Hongyi felt his heart twist at her plight. Here was a woman cast adrift, without even the anchor of her own name.
"Don't push yourself," he said softly, kneeling beside her bed. "What matters now is that you're safe. The rest will come when you're ready."
The reassurance in his tone was enough to soothe her, and she nodded, though her expression remained troubled.
In the days and weeks that followed, Xia Hongyi devoted himself to her care with an attentiveness that surprised even himself, earning curious murmurs and speculations among the Xia family and servants alike. He ensured she had the best medicines money could buy, filling the home with herbal aromas that promised healing. He prepared nourishing broths, spoon-feeding her when she was too weak to lift her arms. With painstaking patience, he guided her through gentle exercises, supporting her weight when her trembling legs refused to cooperate.
Every small step in her recovery became a milestone. The first time she managed to sit up unassisted, she offered him a shy smile, her cheeks faintly flushed.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice quiet but sincere.
He waved it off, though his own smile lingered. "No need for thanks. Just focus on getting better."
Despite her slow progress, there was something resilient about her. Though her body was frail, it refused to break any further. Xia Hongyi watched with quiet admiration as she faced each day with determination, even when frustration clouded her expression.
One evening, Xia Hongyi sat by her bedside. The flickering light of the lanterns cast soft shadows on her face, and for a moment, he found himself lost in thought.
She noticed his silence and tilted her head slightly. "Something on your mind?"
He blinked, shaking himself from his reverie. "I was just thinking…" He hesitated, then continued, "You need a name. I can't keep calling you 'Miss' forever."
Her brows furrowed, and she looked down at her hands. "A name…"
"Do you mind if I choose one for you?" he asked gently.
Her eyes softened, and she gave a small nod. "I… I would like that."
He thought back to the night he had found her, lying in the snow like a fragile wisp of life against the frozen landscape. The memory brought a faint smile to his lips.
"Dongxue," he said finally. "Winter Snow. It suits you."
For a moment, she simply stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile blossomed across her face—genuine and warm, a light breaking through the storm.
"Dongxue," she repeated, as if testing the name on her tongue. "I like it. Thank you, Xia Hongyi."
He felt a strange warmth settle in his chest at the sound of his name spoken by her.
Days passed, Dongxue slowly recovered. Though she remained confined to the house, she no longer seemed as fragile as she once had. Her days were filled with quiet conversations with Xia Hongyi. He would read to her from old texts, sharing tales of distant lands and ancient heroes.
"Do you ever wonder," she asked, as he finished a story about a hero who had saved his village, "if people like that exist? People who would sacrifice everything for others?"
Xia Hongyi paused, considering her question. "I think they do, there are different types of people in jianghu after all." he said after a moment. "But their sacrifices are often quiet, unnoticed by the world. It takes great courage to give of oneself without expecting anything in return."
Dongxue studied him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I think you might be one of those people."
He chuckled, a hint of bashfulness coloring his features. "I'm just a merchant," he said. "Hardly a hero, my actions always are because of my own interests."
But Dongxue shook her head with a hint of a smile. "I see," she said softly. " I guess I'll have to repay my benefactor in the future."
Xia Hongyi's heart swelled at her words, though he tried to mask his emotions. "I…no, you do not need to, I merely did it because I couldn't leave someone as beautiful to be taken by the snow." he softly said.
Hearing his words her lips curved into a soft smile, and for a moment, the weight of her lost past seemed to lift slightly.
As the seasons turned, snow began to ebb away, giving way to the budding seeds of spring, and so too did Xia Hongyi's feelings. What had started as mere care and concern grew into something deeper. It was in the small moments—the way Xia Hongyi would linger just a bit longer when adjusting her blanket, or the way Dongxue's laughter would light up the room when he recounted some humorous anecdote.
One evening, as they sat by the window, watching the golden light fade into twilight, Dongxue spoke softly.
"Xia Hongyi… do you ever regret finding me that night?"
He turned to her, startled. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because I've been a burden," she said, her voice tinged with guilt. "You've done so much for me, and I've given you nothing in return."
He shook his head, his expression earnest. "You've given me more than you know," he said quietly. "You've given me a reason to care for someone, to… to want to protect them."
Her breath hitched the words resonating with her heart, as if someone had once said the same to her before she lost her memories, and their eyes met. In that moment, unspoken emotions passed between them, fragile yet undeniable.
The cavern was darker than expected, though not cold. That was the first observation he made upon landing. The absence of light from the hole he had fallen through indicated that he had descended quite far. The air carried a faint, almost imperceptible energy, similar to the beasts and the woman he encountered earlier, yet stronger.
This place was silent—eerily so. Not even the faintest whisper of wind disturbed the stillness. It was as if the cavern itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold.
Then, an ancient voice resonated from above, slow and deliberate, each word imbued with an unfathomable weight.
"I see... so that is how it is. It seems I was not mistaken."
The sudden voice put he on immediate alert. His stance tensed, his gaze sharpening. He was no stranger to danger, and an unknown entity addressing him in a place like this could mean anything.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his tone steady despite the disquiet creeping into his mind.
"...You need not be alarmed. I am but a lingering wisp of a residual soul left by the Primordial Azure Dragon to oversee this trial ground. I will not harm you." The voice carried a dignified yet gentle cadence, laced with an undercurrent of something else—perhaps disappointment, or regret.
"Primordial... Azure Dragon?" he echoed, the name unfamiliar yet oddly significant.
At that moment, a pair of colossal eyes opened in the darkness above. Unlike the eyes of a beast, their shape bore a resemblance to a human's—but deeper than the sky itself, an endless expanse of azure blue that seemed to stretch beyond the boundaries of reality itself.
Then, as though the heavens had capsized, an overwhelming aura descended upon him. Vast, suffocating, and ancient, it pressed down on him. His brow furrowed, yet he remained standing, the pressure seemingly gave no effect on him as if it were merely but a breeze.
"You said this is a trial ground… a trial for what?" He met the dragon's gaze unflinchingly.
"...The Era of the Gods has long ended, and the True Gods have vanished. Yet we refused to fade entirely. We sought means to preserve fragments of our power, to pass them on to those in future generations with whom we shared an affinity. Through them, our strength would endure. This is such a trial ground… After millennia of waiting, I have finally found a fated one. You are the first in a thousand years… though I did not expect it to be you."
he frowned slightly. Something about the dragon's words unsettled him. "Me? The first?"
"Yes. The first after a thousand years." The Primordial Azure Dragon's voice echoed, steady and deep. "A millennium ago, one hundred and twenty-nine challengers reached this place. But soon after, two Flood Dragons followed the lingering aura of the Dragon God and never departed. They thrived under its presence, maturing to the pinnacle of the Sky Profound Realm. The strength of those in this land is weak, and the existence of these two Flood Dragons rendered approach impossible for humans. Over time, this place became a haven for profound beasts, gaining infamy as the Wasteland of Death. Those with the courage and ability to reach this place dwindled. It became rare to see even one challenger in a century."
"Yet you are here. It seems fate really has some truth to it. You are qualified to undergo the trial I have left behind. If you succeed, I shall grant you the entire inheritance of the Primordial Azure Dragon. After all...you are more than worthy."
There was something in the dragon's gaze—a strange familiarity, as if it recognized something within him that even he himself did not know.
"Are you willing?"
his brows furrowed. After a moment of contemplation, he responded with a question of his own.
"...If I inherit everything, will this place cease to serve as a refuge for beasts to grow stronger?"
The Primordial Azure Dragon chuckled, amusement lacing its tone. "Yes. Once my inheritance is claimed, my purpose here will be fulfilled. In time, the residual energy will disperse into the surroundings." Then, its gaze deepened. "Why do you ask?"
"If... no more powerful beasts inhabit this place, people might have a chance to escape and survive." His answer was simple, yet absolute.
"I had expected you to say, 'so no one has to die.'" Hearing that, the dragon let out a low, rumbling laugh.
he remained silent, ignoring its mirth. His mind was already processing the implications, the consequences of accepting such an inheritance. He really had no intention nor interest obtaining the Primordial Azure Dragons' inheritance, but. if...if it means the situation with the woman doesn't repeat itself, then...
his thoughts were interrupted as the Primordial Azure Dragon spoke once more.
"Hah... Only fools or the strong dare set foot in this wasteland, let alone its heart," the dragon mused, though its gaze never wavered.
Then its expression shifted slightly, and its tone took on a more solemn note. "May I ask for your name?"
There was something in its voice—anticipation, excitement. Or was it merely he's imagination?
He hesitated. His name?
It was not something he had deeply considered. Or perhaps he had been avoiding it. Were his memories lost or merely locked away? Then, he recalled the moment he had laid eyes upon the sword of the woman. The moment that He had seen its history. If that was possible…
His gaze lowered to the sword at his side—the one he had awoken with in this unfamiliar land. It was also the source of the nagging feeling which seemed to pull and guiding him in a certain direction.
If he lacked the answer, perhaps his sword would provide it.
Recalling the sensation from before, he replicated the instinctual action he had taken. then he felt it, an unusual energy which began to coalesce within his eyes. With that, He opened them and looked at the sword.
It was a blade of impeccable craftsmanship. Though its scabbard appeared unremarkable, it could not conceal the sword's brilliance. Intricate engravings adorned its handle, with a yin and yang symbol resting upon the hilt, its black colour making it more pronounced.
Yet, nothing surfaced. No memories. Or perhaps they did, but his mind failed to grasp them, discarding all that he saw.
But something remained: a name.
The Primordial Azure Dragon waited patiently, though its aura radiated anticipation.
he lifted his gaze, meeting the dragon's eyes directly, and spoke. When the dragon heard the name, its expression shifted—growing even more certain.
"Shirou."
hnnhnnhnnhnnhahahahahaHAHAHAHAH! name reveal lmao.
TO BE CONTINUED~