Chapter 473: Lightning Degree Interlude

Meeting face to face with the brazen brat before him, Beon Gyeoul found himself entertaining only one true thought—

This boy is overflowing with talent.

Raw, untamed, and dangerous.

Beon could feel it—the clarity of Riley’s mana, refined beyond what should be possible for someone so young.

The density of it, the calmness in his stance, and the unwavering resolve in his eyes.

It was unmistakable. His conviction wasn’t shallow.

His body had been trained, his foundation laid with care, and his core… forged through something deeper than luxury or lineage.

He is much too young… and much too dangerous for it.

There was nothing bad Beon could truly point out.

Not physically, nor internally.

Riley’s bearing had the polish of someone who’d faced death more than once and came back with sharpened fangs.

And that, more than anything, was what irritated Beon.

Not fear.

Not doubt.

But discomfort.

Because the brat—no, the young man—was still too innocent.

Yes, innocent in the way all the most terrifying people in the world once were.

Those who hadn’t yet seen the true horrors of this world.

Those who had tasted strength and assumed every strong person would feel the same kind of pain they did, bleed the same blood they bled, die the same deaths they imagined.

How naive.

How young.

And that arrogance—that unconscious assumption that those who stood before him were simply obstacles to be surpassed—it shone plainly in the boy’s cold blue eyes.

Those damned eyes.

Eyes that stared directly into Beon’s own like he was no more than a stormcloud to walk through, a mountain to climb over, a test to conquer.

There was no reverence, no awe. Not even hatred.

Nor acknowledgment.

A gaze that knew, but did not understand.

That, Beon could not forgive.

There was a kind of arrogance born from talent.

And a kind born from hardship.

But the worst, and perhaps the most dangerous, was the kind born from ignorance masked as composure.

Riley stood tall and spoke with confidence, but Beon could see it—the cracks that had not yet formed, the pain not yet realized.

The boy had never truly been broken.

And until then, his climb would be unbalanced. Unmeasured.

He needed a wall.

A true wall.

A force so overwhelming it could either humble him—or destroy him.

Because if Riley truly wanted his princess…

If he dared seek the heart of Beon’s granddaughter—not just a fleeting crush or youthful infatuation, but everything she was—then he would have to learn what it meant to face a being who had already broken thousands just like him.

A tongue may be brazen, and bold words might be forgivable…

But love? Love required more.

If he was truly a man who sought to walk beside a woman like Seo… then it was not just strength he needed to show—

He needed to bleed.

Clink…!

The moment the coin struck the ground, its clear metallic ring echoed louder than thunder in the still winter air.

In an instant, Beon vanished.

A streak of purple lightning ripped through the field like a divine judgment—blinding, immediate, and absolute.

WHIIISSSHHHH—!!

Too fast for the eye to follow, time itself seemed to halt for a brief heartbeat.

The snow froze midair.

The wind held its breath.

The only movement was Beon’s hand wrapping around the hilt of his blade.

With a single step, he closed the distance between them—his sword drawn in a flash too quick for even shadows to catch.

[Hidden Blade Technique: S-Rank]

[First Form: Blue Moon.]

WHOOSH—!!

The world cracked.

His blade cut through the air like a celestial slash, exploding forward with enough power to bifurcate mountains.

Everything in his path—trees, stone, and sky—was meant to be reduced to nothing.

The arrogance in the brat’s eyes was to be wiped away in one clean strike.

But—

BZZZT…!!!

CRACKK—!!

The blinding light of his blade clashed not with flesh, not with earth, but with something dense.

Sparks erupted in every direction as violet and cerulean lightning howled in violent discord.

The feedback shot up Beon’s arm like a backlash from the heavens.

His strike had hit something solid—not just blocked, but completely neutralized.

There stood Riley, unmoving.

Sword raised.

Expression blank.

His single blade held firm against the masterful technique of one of the Eastern Empire’s deadliest swordsmen.

And behind Riley… the forest had been split in half.

The mountainside behind him cracked, as though the world itself had barely missed being bisected.

Beon’s eyes widened, disbelief flickering across his weathered face.

Their eyes met.

Blue against purple.

Cold and unyielding against ancient and storm-forged.

He had expected the boy to flinch, to stagger, to falter under the pressure.

But instead…

That arrogance.

It remained.

Unshaken. Unforgiving. Undisturbed.

Beon’s lips twisted into a grin.

“Hah… To think there’d be a brat capable of stopping that attack… I’m impressed.”

And he meant it.

Though he had held back—by quite a bit—his “held back” was still enough to overwhelm most high-level fighters. It should have been enough to at least humble the boy.

But Riley hadn’t even broken a sweat.

That’s when Riley tilted his head, sword still steady.

And said—

“Master Beon… do you want to die?”

“…What?”

The question hit Beon like a slap.

And then… something felt wrong.

His body, once taut with power, suddenly weakened.

The strength in his legs faded like mist.

Confusion dawned in his eyes as he stumbled, the sharp winter air burning his lungs.

He dropped to one knee.

In disbelief.

His senses screamed, but there was no pain—only realization.

As he looked up, Riley’s blade hovered just beside his neck, the edge cold and still… yet it may as well have been pressing into his spine.

“Holding back,” Riley said flatly, “will do you no good.”

And with that—

CRACK!

Riley’s boot slammed into Beon’s face, snapping his head sideways.

Beon crashed onto his back, sliding across the snow as silence returned to the shattered battlefield.

‘What’s… going on?’

The thought barely formed as Beon’s body crashed into the snow, the cold seeping into his bones as he momentarily vanished beneath the thick white.

Confusion swirled in his mind.

He—Beon, the Hidden Blade, a Grandmaster of Lightning and the eastern empire’s deadliest sword—had just been knocked off his feet by a boy.

‘A brat.’

Snow clung to his cloak and hair as he slowly rose, the sting of winter doing little to distract from the turmoil stirring inside him.

The world spun once before settling—and when his vision cleared, his gaze instinctively fell upon the boy standing not far ahead.

Riley.

At first glance, he looked the same.

The same cold blue eyes.

The same youthful face, still untouched by time or war.

Lightning still danced around his form, arcing over his shoulders and crackling across the blade in his hand.

And yet… everything had changed.

Beon blinked. Something was wrong.

A moment ago, he had seen a mere boy—cocky, naive, arrogant.

A child who thought the world revolved around his resolve.

But now, as he stared into those eyes up close, something inside him twisted.

There was no arrogance there.

Only certainty.

Conviction.

Beon inhaled slowly.

The very air in the field felt different—thicker, heavier, as if the mana in the atmosphere had bent subtly out of his control.

‘This field is mine; this is my domain. I built it. I shaped the air, the current, the storm.’

And yet…

Riley stood there as if it all belonged to him.

Beon’s fingers clenched.

He could feel his own mana, refined over decades, coiled tightly within his core—but it refused to answer him.

It was as if it recognized a superior will.

The lightning that had always obeyed his call now hesitated, waiting.

Waiting for the boy.

What… is this pressure?

It wasn’t a technique. It wasn’t divine. It was presence.

Raw, unapologetic dominance.

The kind that could only be found in those who had glimpsed the world’s peak and stood against it—laughing.

And now, those same piercing blue eyes no longer stared at him with defiance.

They looked down on him.

Like he was just another test to pass.

Another enemy to defeat.

Another step forward.

Beon felt his heart thump once.

Then again.

A strange sensation bloomed inside his chest.

Something he hadn’t felt in years.

Not from the Empire’s young prodigies.

Not from the war generals.

Not even from the Archon’s who rose to his level…

It was… excitement.

His lips twitched.

Then widened into a grin.

“Kuku…”

A laugh slipped from his throat, barely contained.

“KUHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

It came roaring out of him like thunder, echoing across the snowy mountains and skies above.

A laugh not of mockery—but genuine, roaring thrill.

Beon rose to his full height, brushing snow off his shoulder, his eyes locking once again with Riley’s.

“So that’s how it is, huh…?”

He grinned wider.

“I was wrong about you, brat.

Those eyes… they weren’t filled with arrogance.

“I mistook them.”

He rolled his shoulders, lightning building once more.

They weren’t the eyes of a child…

They were the eyes of someone who’s already looked past a strength he could not even see.

Had reaching the peak made him blind?

Beon didn’t know.

He couldn’t say.

And frankly, in this moment—he didn’t care.

Because as he stood across from the boy in front of him—no, the swordsman—he finally saw it.

Riley had reached the peak.

‘How?’

Whether by miracle, bloodshed, or madness… that young man had somehow touched the same summit Beon himself once scaled—and perhaps even gone further.

His breath calmed.

His heartbeat slowed.

And a quiet chuckle escaped his lips, one not of mockery, but of solemn recognition.

“It seems I was being rude… to the swordsman in front of me.”

He looked down at the blade in his hand.

The one he had drawn first, out of habit—out of pride.

A blade refined by decades of war and tempered by divine thunder.

A blade that could slay titans.

But not this.

Not him.

And for the first time in a long, long time… Beon realized he had made a grave mistake.

Not in tactics.

Not in technique.

But in disrespect.

To draw a lesser blade against someone who had proven themselves worthy, to deny the honor due to another true swordsman—that was an insult far greater than any insult traded by words.

“I forgot the most basic act of respect…”

To meet a warrior with his true sword.

His fingers loosened.

And the weapon in his hand disintegrated, fading into sparks of violet lightning.

The sky seemed to answer his intent—crackling with purple clouds as a bolt of divine lightning struck down into his palm.

In its place formed a longer, darker blade—a sword wrapped in shadows and light, humming with a frequency that made the very air around it tremble.

[Void Blade].

The sharpest sword in existence.

Forged not of metal, but of concept—capable of cutting through everything, even reality itself.

When he had first forged it, it had been named a sin.

Now, he offered it forward as a gesture of purest sincerity.

For the first time in decades, Beon Gyeoul—the Thunderous Sky of the Eastern Empire—unsheathed his true sword.

The wind howled in recognition.

The clouds parted and coiled in reverence.

The pressure in the air grew so dense it could have crushed the bones of lesser men.

And then, with a single motion, Beon unleashed his will.

A pulse of mana burst from his body—expanding outward like a wave of divine intent, forming a perfect dome of his presence.

A pocket reality constructed from his aura alone.

Everything within a kilometer fell silent.

The forest stopped moving.

The birds stopped singing.

Even the snow seemed to hesitate midair.

Only two remained.

Within this field, no innocent would be harmed.

Only two swords would clash.

Only one truth would emerge.

Riley stepped forward, eyes calm but wide.

He could feel it.

That shift. That declaration.

Beon was no longer holding back.

This was no longer a test.

“Let’s see it then, boy… Show me what it is that’s made the storm yield to your will.”

And Beon meant it.

The power he thought suppressed had returned.

The fire in his veins reignited.

The storm had bent once more to his command.

He grinned, his stance steady.

Lightning curled around his limbs like serpents.

‘You were right Luther….’

Their eyes met.

And for a single heartbeat—they smiled.

It wasn’t joy.

It wasn’t mockery.

It was recognition.

When everything was over Beon made a silent promise to himself.

No matter what….

‘I’ll make this kid mine…!’

“Thank you for giving me the honor… Clan Head,” Riley said quietly.

He lowered himself into his stance, one foot forward, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword. His breathing grew deeper.

Slower.

He let go of everything unnecessary.

He had seen it now—the full strength of the man standing before him.

And so…

He had to respond in kind.

A light—subtle, golden—began to bleed from his form.

Like a flickering candle trying to hold itself against the storm.

But it grew brighter.

And brighter.

Until the snow around his feet melted in an instant, evaporated by the divine heat radiating from within.

His heartbeat echoed like a war drum.

Riley’s divine energy had ignited.

[System Notification]

→ [Blessing has awakened to the user’s will!]

→ [Blessing of Change] [Activated]

→ [Ultimate Skill: Divine Will] – [Requirements altered.]

→ [Evil Entity Effect Bonus] → [Ascended Entity Effect Bonus]

[System Scan Initiated]

→ [Scanning surroundings…]

→ [An Ascended Entity has been detected within the user’s vicinity.]

→ [Number of Ascended Entities detected within a 300-meter radius: 1 confirmed.]

→ [Blessing of Change effect will last only while the user’s divine presence remains active. Once ascendance ends, all skill effects will revert to normal.]

— [Ultimate Skill: Divine Will – Extra Effects Activated.]

[Commanding Presence: Activated!]

[All entities within the area of effect are compelled to obey my will. Resistance is futile.]

[Ascended Entity Annihilation: Activated!]

[When engaging an Ascended Entity, user stats increase by 500%].

[All abilities now scale exponentially beyond their original limits.]

[Divine Ascension: Activated!]

[User Divinity surges to 100%, reaching its absolute limit.

[All Divine Energy-infused attacks are now amplified beyond natural constraints.

[All external energy sources within range are forcibly converted into Divine Energy, severing the power flow of all enemy entities.]

[Recalculating Level…]

[Base Level: 176+880]

[Temporary Level: ????]

[Temporary Status Boost:]

[Strength: EX]

[Agility: EX]

[Endurance: EX]

[Luck: EX]

[Power: EX]

[Congratulations you have reached levels far beyond mortal limits! you have unlocked the first keys to ascension….!!!]

[First Stage Sequence…. Progress (10%)]

[Ascension Level: 8/10]

[Divine Title and Authority… Uncertain]

[Note: Under effects of user ultimate Skill User Race change applied….! Prolonged Ascended state will automatically start First stage sequence progress!]

[Warning…!]

[Reaching Ascended to the first Sequence will result to permanent consequences!]

[User’s divinity will now be used to undergo soul adaptation!]

— [Tempest Sword (Valeria) has awakened!] —

[Tempest Sword (Valeria)]

[Unique Skill: Master’s Strength] Activated!

[Effect: Tempest Sword shall now gain the strength of its user!]

[Tempest Sword (Valeria)] [Level: EX]

[Hidden Skill Unlocked: World Tempest Applicable]

[Effect: Valeria will cut through the fabrics of space and time itself.]

[Tempest winds from the era of gods surge forth.]

[All physical and magical defenses are now nullified.]

As the final [System Notification] faded into silence, Riley exhaled slowly.

He could feel it.

His strength igniting—no, erupting—from within.

It wasn’t unfamiliar. He’d touched this power before.

But this time… this time was different.

It wasn’t just his body that felt heavier or faster.

It was as if something inside him cracked open—not broken, but changing.

Like a sealed door beginning to creak under the pressure of what lay beyond.

There was an ache.

A distant, gnawing sensation somewhere deep in his chest, near the soul. As if the act of ascending carried a price he hadn’t yet paid. But he didn’t care.

Not now.

He raised his gaze, apathetic blue eyes flickering like the calm before a hurricane. Beon was staring back at him.

But the confidence from earlier was gone, peeled away and left in tatters.

In its place was a raw, speechless awe.

The air inside the domain warped.

The field—Beon’s domain—was supposed to be immovable. It had been crafted over decades, the manifestation of his spirit, his authority, and his control.

But now, it shifted.

The gravity of it all leaned toward the boy standing across from him.

The domain was no longer his.

It was bending.

Submitting.

“Don’t die clan head….”

Beon’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Only laughter—sudden, booming, thunderous laughter that rolled across the snow-packed earth like a crack of judgment.

“HAHAHAHA!”

His eyes widened, shining with madness and delight.

For the first time in years—no, decades—he felt it.

The feeling of being dwarfed.

Utterly.

Completely.

The young man in front of him wasn’t just strong. He was unbounded. Limitless. A vessel of potential so vast it made the sky feel low.

How?

How is he so strong?

How had Riley hidden this power all this time?

Was it his bloodline?

Did Luther know?

But….

The questions would have to wait.

Beon’s laughter faded, replaced with a grin that bared teeth like lightning.

It seemed he truly didn’t need to hold back.

In the space between one breath and the next, their feet moved.

No signal.

No preparation.

Just two swordsmen—and two gods in human form—rushing to meet one another.

WHOOOOSHHHH!!!!!

Gold lightning surged into the sky as a jagged, divine force collided with purple arcs that screamed like thunder.

The enclosed domain warped violently, air screaming, light bending, snow and trees vanishing in waves of unrelenting pressure.

Each slash could cleave a mountain.

Each step left craters in reality.

The two danced, matching each other’s pace with unnatural precision.

Neither yielded ground. Neither pressed recklessly.

It was a battle without wasted movement, every step calculated, every swing deliberate—two storms colliding in silence, their wills guiding blades that moved faster than the eye could follow.

Gold and violet streaks blurred through the air, their movements invisible to all but the divine.

Sparks erupted at every clash, each one like the start of a new star.

Their forms—mere silhouettes now—flickered like unstable afterimages, swords clashing so rapidly that the echoes bled into each other, a thunderous rhythm of divine will made manifest.

They could’ve dragged it out.

Stretched the fight for minutes, hours, days even.

But both understood—this dance was never about endurance.

It would all come down to a single, decisive moment.

One strike.

One truth.

One desire to deny the other’s path.

And one for recognition.

If this fight had taken place in the real world—beyond the barrier of Beon’s domain—the very land might have shattered.

Not just the surrounding forest or mountain range, but perhaps even the entire province would’ve been reduced to cinders and light.

But here, in this self-contained warzone, they were free.

Free to go all out.

Their swords rose again, and in that moment, their true selves emerged—

Dozens of afterimages sparked outward in every direction—clones of motion, illusions of their blade work, fighting a dozen mirrored battles simultaneously around them.

The world dimmed.

The light drained away as if the domain itself were gasping for breath.

Shadows folded inward, and only two hues remained:

Gold.

And Violet.

Radiating like dying stars in the void.

And then—

[Final Form: Null Space]

A tremor pulsed through the enclosed domain as the air itself bent under the weight of their power.

Sound vanished for a heartbeat.

They both slashed down!

Silence fell then—

VOOOSHHHH—!!!

BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!

An explosion of energy engulfed and cut through everything in sight.

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