Chapter 604: Thousands of Cuts



Ezra didn’t immediately share her experiences with her Advancing. The room was silent as she gathered her thoughts, formulating the best way to describe what transpired and grasp the raw meaning of every imparted lesson and meaningful challenge.

Soon, she sighed, subconsciously gripping the blade fastened against her waist and slung behind her shoulder. Usually, a person would carry no more than two weapons to be wielded at a time… but Ezra held thrice that on her person, each bearing a unique shape.

That had caught Kieran’s attention as soon as his psyche returned from the Realm’s mystifying embrace.

He remembered the course of her growth well, beginning with a single two-handed sword and later switching to two single-handed swords. They were lighter, sharper, and favored precision over deep, lethal cuts.

However, Ezra could also sharpen any blade in her grasp via the ability she had showcased before. It was some kind of intent or aura that accentuated the latent, unrealized potential of a sword. That came at the cost of the weapon’s durability.

Similar to a human burning themselves out after pushing their limits to the brink of destruction one too many times.

Slowly, Ezra unsheathed each weapon, placing them on the table with deliberate movements. First came a pair of weapons Kieran was familiar with only because of his lesson with Rhaenys – scimitars. These weren’t as unique as Rhaenys’ dual scimitars, but they were sharp with a drastic curve and decent thickness.

Ezra traced the weapon, fingering their curve until the metal grew agitated, knocking against the robust wood with intensifying vibrations.

Next, Ezra pulled a refined katana from behind her shapely hips, the blade drawn with a scraping noise. It was a style Kieran didn’t expect, but it was sleek and aerodynamic, also boasting a subtle, almost unnoticeable curve through its length.

She unsheathed an odachi, falchion, and an exquisite silverish-blue, two-handed longsword in a quick procession, treating each weapon like a mother tenderly caring for their child with pure affection.

The last sword she drew caught Kieran’s attention immediately, sparking a dreadful apprehension, like he would be cut for even touching that blade. Noting the others’ lack of reaction, it was likely a sensation not many could parse.

‘Is that a Relic?’

Kieran had encountered great weapons like Heartsbane, which evoked a peculiar feeling, be it apprehension, avoidance, or caution.

Ezra noticed Kieran’s gaze bore into the weapon and picked it up, “The Unbroken Blade.” Kieran stared at her.

“As in the name of your Class?”

“The same. It is why I became a Maven, but even then… a Maven isn’t fit to wield this weapon?

I can unsheathe it, but its true power remains dormant until I have proved my skill with the blade is worthy of its companionship.”

A tall task for a mere chance at wielding a weapon, but if its standards were so high…

“Where did you get it?” Kieran asked.

“To know where I got it, I’ll have to tell you the story of my Advancing. It all began in the Scarred Expanse, the starting point of the Field of Broken Blades. As the name implies, it is an area littered with nothing but fractured blades jutting from the ground.”

Kieran could imagine the setting.

All he had to do was envision the Lifeless Pass and sprinkle an ungodly amount of broken blades, though it was already littered with broken armor and several other remembrances of a devastating battle.

“Before my Advancing, I was a Sword Master, which inadvertently limited the scope of my abilities. I was too restricted in my choices. And so, I had to understand this simple phrase: a sword is a blade, but a blade is not a sword. I lacked versatility, imagination, and adaptability. My sword was rigid… and that is how those broken blades came to be.”

Ezra picked up the katana, pouring a sharp intent into its vessel, filling its unsaturated composition with an acute energy. The material brightened as if a spotlight was shining down from above.

“My experiences were in some ways an echo of Bastion’s encounter. I was alone in my Advancing, but the Unbroken Blade crested the Field of Broken Blade, standing tall from the rest. Reaching the blade is the goal… but the journey is treacherous. Going into this, I didn’t expect to ooze blood from every body part possible, but when you mess with blades, you’re bound to get cut.”

Kieran watched Ezra’s eyes, noting her growing fascination with the blade in her hand, but deeper emotions were involved. There were signs of trauma within her trembling, emotional gaze. She was fervently chasing a goal while somberly reliving her suffering.

“I don’t remember how many times I was cut, how much blood I shed across the Scarred Expanse, but I know at some point… my mind left me. I was scared, alone, and full of doubts eventually. The Advancing breaks many people because it introduces a great amount of pressure; I was warned… but I met the challenge with foolhardy confidence.”

Ezra paused, exhaling deeply to settle her riled emotions. Once she grabbed hold of her bearings, she continued.

“It all felt so real. We were made to believe this is all a game, but what we endure… it all feels too real. The Advancing made it so that discerning truth from lie and reality from illusion was impossible. The journey from the Scarred Expanse to the Field of Broken Blades made that abundantly clear. It spurred dire feelings of dread within me, instigating seeds of self-doubt. I became my enemy… and my blade began to falter.”

Kieran shared looks with the others.

A game?

Everyone present thought differently. This was no mere game, and they weren’t so delusional to wholeheartedly believe whatever was disseminated to the public.

“You’re not wrong to question the origins and meaning of this place,” Altair said. After a pause, he added: “I’m sure we all do by now.”

“Right,” Ezra agreed. “But the story continues. I learned the field wasn’t what it appeared to be. The Field of Broken Blades was very much a graveyard — where those who failed to establish their blade… perished. That thought frightened me at my core, driving me to fight myself desperately, combat my doubts, and forge a path ahead. I thought I succeeded when I reached the field in one piece… but boy was I wrong.”

Ezra shuddered but continued recounting.

“Each blade embodied an aspect of a new blade I could learn, and every time I fought myself. The demand placed on the mind increased, forcing me to accelerate my thoughts to escape my imminent demise with primal abandon… it was frightful, but it was edifying. Something clicked in my mind, and a question was born: why can’t I do what my phantom can?”

“I was in no rush. I sat, contemplated, and comprehended, dissecting the style of my opponent — a style I could learn from and an essence I could derive from the blade itself. Whatever I failed to learn… the lesson remains ingrained in my memory to look back on and study. I think the Unbroken Blade will accept me once I’ve mastered the meaning of those

thousands of cuts.”

Enduring thousands of cuts sounded almost as inhumane as their Trial, but it was personal, unlike all the lives Kieran had taken or the age-old resentments he had tasted.

A cut couldn’t compare to the lingering sear of true evil invading your mind. Then, everyone looked at Kieran, and Altair smiled with his eyes. Glee danced within.

“And then there was one. Tell your story.”

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