Failed Possession Chapter-74

## Ch-74.

—

The condensed sword-aura blade—*Radiant Blade*—was faster than Radiant Sword, but lighter in power.

This was not a duel to the death. It would not do to use Radiant Sword, a decisive battle technique, in a mere spar. Moreover, at Sword Dragon’s current attainment, even forming Radiant Sword was not yet easy. Melting sword-qi into sword-aura and compressing it into one with Intent—such a thing was originally impossible at the 5th Rank.

Even if this were a fight where Radiant Sword could be used, employing it one-on-one against Thunder Cloud would be suicide.

So, following the Sword Emperor’s advice, he had completed Radiant Blade and trained until he could form it as swiftly as ordinary sword-aura.

‘He’s coming.’

Before the spar began, his heart had pounded as if it would burst.

Now, it was calm.

He knew Thunder Cloud’s ability. He knew how he fought. He had personally seen why his epithet was “Thunder Cloud.”

He focused his vision so intensely his eyes ached.

The instant purple lightning flared, Thunder Cloud accelerated.

Among warriors of the same Rank, his speed stood at the absolute top. His initial burst of acceleration was comparable to the lightning-fast draw of famed quick-sword masters.

The spar had only just begun.

Sword Dragon’s eyes had not yet adapted to that speed.

He had simulated it hundreds of times—but experiences imagined in the mind regrettably did not melt into real sensation.

So he had to concentrate, lest he lose sight of him.

Instead of retreating further, Sword Dragon stepped forward.

A flash of lightning.

The moment he caught the blurred afterimage, his sword moved.

The Sword Emperor Style of Orsia was not confined to any single aspect. It could be swift, heavy, gentle, fierce, fluid, or still. Mastery of everything that could be contained within a sword—that was why Orsia’s sword art bore the name Sword Emperor Style.

The blade he swung now contained swiftness.

Radiant Blade, completed over a month, cleaved straight ahead as intended.

‘Didn’t connect.’

The sensation at the sword tip was hollow.

Sword Dragon did not doubt his judgment. He twisted his body.

‘Deep.’

Judgment followed judgment.

He did not merely twist—he kicked off the ground.

Crack!

His descending foot struck the earth like lightning. The flowing stomp sent vibrations through the ground.

It was not mere tremor.

Crackling lightning-aura spread with the vibration. Even a brush against it could mean intrusion by the lightning.

Instead of leaping away, Sword Dragon shifted his weight and stamped again. The responding stomp from the front pushed back the lightning-aura, forming fractures across the ground.

Centering himself firmly, he grasped the sword with both hands.

Radiant Blade shone brighter.

This swing was not as fast as before.

It was slower. Heavier.

The mana of the space itself was drawn into his blade.

It was a sword that pressured the very space.

Thunder Cloud felt the space tighten around him and put strength into his legs.

He had intended to prioritize speed and pierce into Sword Dragon’s range—but instinct told him:

‘If I approach, I’ll be cut.’

That was Sword Dragon’s interval now.

The crimson aura of Evil-Quelling Heavenly Principle Technique wrapped around Thunder Cloud’s entire body.

Stopping was not the answer. Maintaining distance would not grant advantage either. If he waited, that space-pressuring sword would restrict him.

His foot moved.

Storm-Wind Cloud Step.

His body wavered into bewildering changes.

A jolt.

Focus on the eyes from the beginning. There is only one real body—do not be deceived by change.

Rumble!

The heavily weighted Radiant Blade swung, dragging tangled mana with it.

Whoosh!

The afterimages wavered.

‘None?’

All false.

Sword Dragon did not panic. He leaned sideways.

The judgment was correct.

Sssaeek!

Thunder Cloud’s foot, having closed to close range without notice, struck where Sword Dragon’s head had been.

It did not connect.

Rather than relief, Sword Dragon swung.

Just as Radiant Blade was about to connect, Thunder Cloud’s body spun like a top.

Clash!

Golden light and crimson flame collided and scattered into the air.

Shallow.

It was not a cut—

It had scraped.

He had needed Radiant Blade because Thunder Cloud’s aura felt like flame.

If it were mere sword-aura, it would not have even scraped.

Which meant—

He was sharper.

If it were ordinary sword-aura, the difference would have been overwhelming. But in sharpness, Radiant Blade held superiority over Thunder Cloud.

‘Insane.’

A hollow laugh nearly escaped him.

This was a sword personally passed down by the Sword Emperor—the strongest swordsman in the world. The Sword Emperor Style had been honed by the finest swordsmen for centuries.

And yet—

All he could do was scrape?

Thunder Cloud’s wavering flame-like aura alone exerted pressure.

—Could he keep scraping like this?

He had judged himself superior in sharpness, but durability was another matter entirely. He could not be certain Radiant Blade would maintain its edge long enough to cut Thunder Cloud down.

Yet uncertainty was no reason to retreat.

Sword Dragon drew his blade.

A small tremor rippled outward like waves on water.

Dozens—hundreds—of fragmented slashes spread around him. Those dispersed cuts shifted again, weaving complex sword paths.

Boom!

The slashes exploded instead.

Counterattacks had pierced every gap.

A fist?

A foot?

He could not tell.

‘Both.’

Where a fist could strike, a fist struck. Where a foot could reach, a foot lashed out.

Thunder Cloud’s movements were even more troublesome than imagined.

Facing a martial artist who freely used both arms and legs felt like fighting four warriors at once.

And yet—

It was exhilarating.

A thrill ran through Sword Dragon.

He shifted his grip to one hand.

He did not hear the sound of his blade.

In his mind, sword paths formed first—and were instantly revised.

They had to be.

Thunder Cloud stood only a short distance ahead.

With the added length of the blade, Sword Dragon held advantage in range.

A swordsman naturally held advantage over a martial artist in distance. All weapons did. Once one entered aura and could manipulate it freely, even extending sword-aura alone could dominate range masterfully.

But Radiant Blade did not allow that.

It was aura condensed into solidity.

At his current attainment, he could neither extend nor retract it.

Thunder Cloud did not launch aura outward. His aura remained around his body.

Thus—

The advantage in range lay with Sword Dragon.

His task was simple: prevent Thunder Cloud from entering and cut him down.

‘Advantage?’

Even with superior range, it was like this.

Sword Dragon continued revising sword paths in his mind.

Martial arts required continuity. It must flow unbroken. If one slashed diagonally, the upper line opened—so one must raise again. If one thrust, the body opened wide—so one must pull or transition into a cut.

Against Thunder Cloud, it was not easy.

He must not thrust.

If his body opened, Thunder Cloud would never miss it.

He must not slash diagonally either.

In his mind, an unending instinct whispered: *No.*

Compromising to choose “possible” paths felt unsatisfactory—like cutting off the pulse again and again.

‘…!’

Two days ago.

Thunder Cloud’s spar with the Fist King.

Now, Thunder Cloud’s movement resembled the Fist King’s.

Not severing everything—but decisively severing what could be severed.

Subtly guiding Sword Dragon’s blade.

‘It’s different from underground.’

Back then, Thunder Cloud’s martial art had been supple and free. Dancing among hundreds of hands, his movement had even seemed beautiful. Like his epithet—cloud-like. Untouchable, slipping attacks, stealing flow and devouring it.

Now, it was different.

That supple freedom had become sharp as a forest of blades.

No longer merely deflecting—he severed outright, guiding this side accordingly.

‘Don’t tell me…’

Had he incorporated the spar from two days ago into himself?

Did Thunder Cloud also learn from defeat?

He did not strike the blade directly. He focused on evasion, waited for the blade, and targeted the moment after it moved.

At that instant, Sword Dragon understood.

Thunder Cloud had not discarded his freedom.

He had added direction to it.

An absolute freedom that oppressed and constrained the opponent.

Even the sword paths Sword Dragon constantly revised were within Thunder Cloud’s Intent.

“Hah.”

A laugh slipped from him.

What he had thought best had been led all along.

How delightful.

At once, Sword Dragon changed his thinking.

He reduced revision.

He discarded the notion of maintaining distance and “safely” scraping away.

That was timid.

If it was wrong, it was wrong. If it was right, it was right.

Sword Dragon smiled broadly and stepped forward.

He swung to cut—

It did not connect.

As he twisted to evade the incoming fist that followed immediately—

A long outstretched toe brushed dangerously close across his face.

Neither side connected.

He saw Thunder Cloud’s body tilt. It was too late to retract the arm he had swung.

So he let go of the sword entirely.

The left hand he had prepared below immediately seized the blade and cut toward Thunder Cloud’s body.

Just as it was about to connect, Thunder Cloud leapt off a single foot. The unstable posture gained stability and power simply from the addition of internal energy. Vaulting over the slash, he kicked the air once more—and brought the same leg that had already struck upward down toward Sword Dragon’s head.

Instead of evading, Sword Dragon raised the arm that did not hold the sword to block.

Crash!

His protective aura shuddered. A heavy shock sent tingling pain through his arm, and his foot dug into the ground.

Had he not reinforced his defense, that single blow would have broken his arm.

The sword in his left hand spun. Reversed grip. The flashing Radiant Blade stabbed like an awl toward Thunder Cloud.

It did not pierce cleanly.

It penetrated the protective aura—but Thunder Cloud stepped on Sword Dragon’s forearm and flipped behind his head.

‘My arm…’

It was not broken, yet numb. Lightning-aura from that strike had invaded.

He immediately circulated internal energy, restoring sensation.

Sword Dragon switched the sword back to his right hand and spun around sharply.

Chaotic changes would not do. He would only be severed and devoured.

Faster. Sharper. Even a shallow entry must cut deep.

Kiiing!

Radiant Blade’s light intensified.

‘Soon.’

Sword Dragon sensed it.

The outcome of this tightrope-like spar would be decided imminently.

He saw Thunder Cloud in the near distance clench his fist.

Was he planning to break in?

‘Come.’

This time, Sword Dragon intended it.

He deliberately gripped the sword with both hands.

The instant he comes—I cut.

He abandoned variation.

In quick-sword, Sword Dragon was confident as well.

The moment Thunder Cloud’s form flickered—

The distance between them vanished.

Sword Dragon swung at once.

A blade swung thousands—tens of thousands—of times.

He was certain this was the fastest and sharpest strike he had ever delivered.

‘It connected…!’

At the instant he was certain—

Thunder Cloud’s body flashed like a bolt of lightning, and something scattered.

“Eh…”

Sword Dragon muttered unconsciously.

“…Fuck.”

A crude curse utterly unfitting for the heir of Orsia—the martial leader among the Pride of the Western Cartel.

But he could not help it.

That strike had felt perfect.

When something burst outward, he had even thought—

*Did I cut off his neck?!*

It was an illusion.

What scattered were Thunder Cloud’s thick strands of hair.

Sword Dragon’s blade had cut through Thunder Cloud’s protective aura and sliced the ends of his hair—but not flesh.

The instant he thought he had cut—

He lost Thunder Cloud’s movement.

When he looked again—

It was already over.

Thunder Cloud’s fist hovered before Sword Dragon’s face.

If it had not stopped—

“Yuri.”

Sword Dragon’s expression twisted as he spoke.

For once, he did not call him Thunder Cloud.

Yuri did not retract his extended fist. He stared at Estor’s face for a moment, then nodded.

“What, Estor?”

He called him by name in return.

“My sword was cool, wasn’t it?”

The question came out of nowhere.

Yuri did not know his intent, but he answered calmly.

“It was.”

“It’s called Radiant Blade. I trained for a month just to beat you.”

“The name’s cool too.”

“What’s the name of what you just did?”

“Violet Lightning Flash.”

“What is that? A technique from your aura art?”

“I implemented inspiration from magic into martial arts.”

It was a martial adaptation of *Flash Lightning Pierce*, the third spell formula of the Heindeirga magic style.

“You didn’t use that underground.”

“You didn’t use Radiant Blade then either.”

“I couldn’t use it then.”

Estor grumbled and pulled his head back slightly.

“You were doing something strange midway. Did you learn that from the Fist King?”

“Yeah.”

“I doubt the Fist King thinks he taught you.”

“He said he’d teach me a move.”

Yuri glanced at the Fist King to confirm.

Outside the barrier, the Fist King stood with his mouth half open—then burst into hearty laughter and nodded.

“Why did I lose?”

Estor asked bluntly.

“Because you abandoned variation and tried to decide it with a single strike.”

“I think I would’ve lost even if I hadn’t abandoned variation.”

“Not like this. If you’d focused on variation, I wouldn’t have been able to use Violet Lightning Flash.”

“You kept cutting off my flow, so I put everything into one strike.”

“That’s what I wanted you to do.”

“So—it was your intention?”

There was no need to answer.

Yuri withdrew his fist and shrugged lightly.

“Fuck.”

Estor cursed again.

He had expected defeat even before the spar began.

But what was this feeling?

It stung to lose—of course it did.

Yet beyond the frustration, something else had slipped out the moment defeat was certain.

After pondering that sensation, Estor muttered honestly:

“You fight like a damn bastard…”

“Thanks.”

Yuri answered reflexively.

The words were coarse, but to Yuri’s ears, it was high praise.

“What do you mean thanks?”

“It’s the first time I’ve applied the Fist King’s teaching in real combat. Estor, because you were such a worthy opponent, I was able to grow stronger.”

He could not confess his true reason for gratitude, so he offered another.

Estor’s face flushed red.

Yuri, the victor, had responded with respect—while he himself had lashed out in frustration.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for now?”

“I failed to accept defeat and gave a shameful answer that insulted you.”

Estor stepped back a few paces and bowed deeply.

“Yuri. Not once have I gained the upper hand against you. Your movements were truly admirable.”

When he raised his head, his eyes burned with passion.

“But today’s defeat is not my end. I, Estor Orsia, grow stronger every moment.”

“…Yeah. I’m looking forward to your growth too.”

In the warm atmosphere, Yuri nodded seriously.

Satisfied, Estor turned sharply.

“I.”

His gaze—filled with anticipation—swept toward the spectators.

“I believe Thunder Cloud Yuri is a man worthy of bearing the epithet ‘Dragon.’ Who among you will grant him the title of Dragon?”

Sword Emperor.

Fist King.

Wind Calamity.

All were figures worthy of bestowing such a title.

*Couldn’t they do this when I’m not here…*

Standing there alone was embarrassing enough, Yuri thought silently.