Chaos' Heir

Chapter 1390: Sword qi

Luckily for George, human behavior was quite straightforward. The black cloud had appeared in one direction, so Aynor’s citizens had run in the opposite way, leaving progressively emptier streets for George to cross.

Initially, George had to jump from crashed vehicles and occasional empty spots to the others, even using nearby walls as footholds to extend his time in the air.

Yet, after crossing several blocks, George could land on Aynor’s wide streets, calmly walking at their center without worries, alone in the desolation the alien threat had created.

The defensive wall where the black cloud had crashed was still distant. It was visible from George’s location due to how the blocks were arranged and the streets’ width, but even a fifth-level warrior couldn’t cross such a big city instantly.

George had even slowed down his pace after landing in empty areas. He was in no hurry to fight, and the threat’s nature was still unclear anyway, so he preferred to take his time getting his mind straight.

Despite not knowing what the black cloud held, George knew he was outclassed there. A single fifth-level warrior couldn’t possibly hope to oppose a universal threat. That battlefield belonged to evolved beings, a realm he had failed to start approaching due to sheer lack of time and personal preference.

George had decided long ago that he didn’t like the battlefield. He had still worked out regularly, even relying on Khan’s forces’ discoveries to improve his training, but that process had never been for the sake of mere strength.

Excelling on the battlefield had never been the goal. George only wanted the strength to protect his wife, son, and maybe his entire family.

Preparing for and facing the evolution would have kept George away from the very reason behind his training. He would have had to ignore his family, his wife, and his son to focus on that transformative procedure.

George would have also risked becoming someone who couldn’t appreciate those blessings anymore, which wasn’t a price he was willing to pay.

Besides, politics and family life were keeping George’s schedule full already, and he had come to enjoy that quiet, peaceful normality. He had never grown lazy or complacent, but parts of him wanted to. George only had to wait for the universe to be at peace first.

Nevertheless, choosing to avoid the evolution didn’t imply a lack of preparation. There were other ways to obtain higher levels of strength and abilities that surpassed the human power classification.

George was no Khan, but he wasn’t an ordinary human warrior, either. He had joined his dearest brother-in-arms in the Niqols’ traditional training, and those teachings had stayed with him throughout the years despite his mental, physical, and spiritual attachment to humankind.

Moreover, George could benefit from a unique set of inborn features and natural inclinations that perfectly complemented each other, multiplying their total worth instead of merely adding to it.

George was a swordsman to his core. He had shown promise in the way of the sword even before gaining access to mana and discovering his element.

The First Impact had tried to reset humankind’s history, but some old records had survived, and many had been rebuilt.

Michael Ildoo had spared no expense in getting his hands on anything sword-related after his son showed some talent in that field, and George had continued the research on his own as his family gained fame and wealth.

That led the Ildoo’s archives to be full of all kinds of sword arts and ancient texts with a more spiritual approach to the field. George had also read countless stories featuring magical concepts like the sword qi or similar fantasy elements.

Fantasy elements that the mana had made real.

Theoretically, martial arts that involved swords or other sharp weapons already included those fantasy elements, turning them into reality.

However, George’s element was spirit. It was a flexible energy with countless potential applications, which George had sharpened all his life for a singular purpose.

Learning the Niqols’ traditional arts had opened more paths in that unique training, eventually making George unable to rely on anyone else to improve. He had long since stepped into uncharted territory, which forced him to build his own road.

That road led to a peculiar but incredible combination. Most ancient texts stressed how swordsmen had to become one with their blades, but George had pushed that several steps forward.

The sword was an extension of George’s body. His spirit joined them, expanding that otherwise limited unity, affecting his mind and concept of his whole being.

The sword qi wasn’t real, but it was for George, and each of his steps toward the advancing darkness in the distance intensified that vibe, sharpening his aura, transforming it into an ethereal dark-silver glow that cut through the air he crossed.

A faint, dim membrane seemed to have enveloped George, slightly stretching past his figure, wanting to reach even greater heights. Yet, he kept that energy on himself, polishing it even further, becoming one with it in body and mind while his actual sword kept resting on his shoulder.

George might have slowed down his pace, but the black cloud didn’t care about his need to achieve an ideal mental state.

The flickering darkness had long since crashed on the city’s defensive wall, and waves of that darker-than-black smoke had flowed down from its top, descending toward Aynor’s insides.

The areas right after a city’s walls usually had training camps and other military structures. Aynor had some versions of that, which the falling smoke instantly submerged before splitting to dive into the many branching streets.

George was walking on one of such streets, and the incoming smoke eventually appeared in the distance in front of him, flooding the wide road as if it were a raging wave attempting to establish a river.

The smoke showed its troublesome effects as it got closer to George. He felt as his mana started to retreat before that foreign influence, attempting to disappear as if it couldn’t exist in the presence of that darker-than-black energy.

The True Chaos truly was the mana’s natural enemy. George couldn’t doubt the matter anymore after spending a single second in the face of that annihilating power.

Yet, George’s energy never disappeared. The ethereal membrane around him grew more real, brightening, cutting through that annihilating influence before flashing forward at his command.

"I am the sword," George calmly declared, as if in a daze, and the black raging river split in half without needing a single slash from the sword on his shoulder.