Eager to start the day, he activated his Hud, his eyes immediately catching a notification that made him sit up straighter.
[Notice: You Have Created a Sword Style]
Endless Edge:
Endless Edge transforms the Titan’s blade into a conduit of relentless power, blending aura and intent into an oppressive combat style. This method is designed for prolonged engagements, where each strike tightens the Titan’s hold on the battlefield. With every swing, the enemy feels their strength eroded, their resolve falter, and their defeat drawn ever closer.
[Endless Edge has absorbed skill: Blade Storm!]
Techniques of the Endless Edge Style:
- Anchoring Strike:
- A precise blow that roots the enemy in place by channeling crushing intent into the ground beneath them. The target feels as if invisible chains of power bind them, restricting movement and sapping agility.
- Blade Storm:
- A sweeping attack that sends out arcing blades of condensed aura and intent. These slashes cut through physical and magical defenses alike, leaving residual energy that gnaws at the target over time.
- Ruinous Reprise:
- A counterattack technique triggered by blocking or evading an enemy's strike. The counter delivers a flurry of empowered strikes, each heavier and more precise than the last, forcing the opponent to retreat or falter.
- Overwhelming Crescendo:
- A relentless chain of strikes where each swing compounds the force of the previous one, creating a symphony of crushing blows that overwhelm even the sturdiest of defenses.
- Finality’s Grasp:
- The ultimate move of the Titan Blade’s style, this technique channels all accumulated aura and intent into a singular, decisive strike. Upon impact, the blade releases a crushing shockwave that reduces the battlefield to ruin and leaves the target irrevocably broken.
Moyo’s brows furrowed as he scrolled through the details. The depth and power of the Endless Edge style were staggering. He read through the list again, marveling at how much stronger he had become, and an almost boyish grin spread across his face. But the smile didn’t last long. He knew these skills were tools—tools that would need testing and honing in the training chambers.
He rubbed his eyes, feeling a deep satisfaction as he glanced over his updated profile:
Name: Moyosore
Rank: Advocate
Core: Radiant
Body: Lesser Dracon
Level: 200
Path: Titan Blade
Attributes:
- STR: 1000
- DEX: 648
- END: 807
- VIT: 1000
Titles:
- Emberkin [Resistance to flame: 30%]
- Dungeon Conqueror [+3 points to every level gained within dungeons & +100% damage to dungeon creatures below Level 100]
- Titan’s Presence [All enemies below your level lose half the strength of their attacks and are struck with fear.]
- Prime Bane [All aberrants below your level suffer 50% increased damage and are struck with terror upon seeing you.]
- Serpent Slayer [All lesser dragons below your level suffer 50% increased damage.]
A soft sigh escaped him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded across the cold floor to the bathroom. The icy tiles sent a jolt of energy through his body, jolting him fully awake. After a refreshing wash, he strapped Ida to his waist and left the chambers, eager to begin the day.
He found the grand hall unusually empty. Martha, who was typically buried in work at her usual spot, was nowhere to be seen. The silence was strange, almost unsettling.
Along the way, he passed several people who bowed or saluted, their expressions a mix of awe and gratitude. Moyo nodded back with a faint smile, their gestures making him feel slightly awkward. The sprawling expanse of Bastion greeted him as he stepped outside the palace.
The city had transformed. Its walls now extended so far that the distant yellow zone was barely visible. The crystal gates that had once marked Bastion’s perimeter were a speck on the horizon. Bastion wasn’t just a fortress anymore—it was a thriving metropolis.
Moyo paused, letting the scope of it all wash over him. Thousands of people now called Bastion home. Many lived ordinary lives as farmers, merchants, or artisans, choosing the comfort of stability over the dangers of ascension. For Moyo, it was a humbling realization: he wasn’t just building an army—he was building a nation.
His wandering brought him to a clothing store filled with coats and robes crafted from the hides of mutated creatures. The shopkeeper, a burly man with a warm smile, pressed a finely made coat into his hands and refused payment.
“All I ask is that you carve your name into my wall, Titan Blade. Let it be a mark of honor,” the man said.
Despite his protests, Moyo eventually relented, etching his name onto the wall with Ida. The man’s joy was infectious, and Moyo couldn’t help but grin as he donned the coat and stepped back out into the bustling streets.
His path led him to the trade hub, where he hoped to find Atreus. The sight of the Aether Gate caught his eye. It pulsed with activity, people streaming in and out with purpose. Moyo frowned, noting how integrated it had become.
Were they already trading with the Union? It was a concerning development, one that would need addressing. But for now, there were more pressing matters at hand. He needed to ensure the plans they’d formulated were unfolding as intended.
***********************
The silver men guarding the entrance stepped aside, allowing Moyo to pass into the opulent sanctuary of the Trademaster, Atreus. The room was a seamless blend of elegance and practicality—walls lined with shimmering artifacts and data screens, the faint hum of Aether-tech filling the air. Atreus, ever the image of polished charisma, greeted him with a smile that radiated charm and guile in equal measure.
“Lord Titan Blade!” Atreus exclaimed, spreading his arms wide. “Every time we meet, it seems your strength has grown tenfold. I dare say this tiny world of yours may soon fail to meet the needs of such a burgeoning force.”
Moyo inclined his head in acknowledgment, his expression neutral. “I trust the system will ensure there are no shortages of challenges,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.
Atreus chuckled, his sharp eyes glinting with amusement. “Yes, of course. Ah, the business in the Yellow Zone—whispers of your triumph have already reached my ears, carried by your returning forces.” He gestured for Moyo to sit, which the Titan did, locking his fingers together as he leaned forward slightly.
“Should I be expecting more titans?” Moyo asked directly, his gaze unwavering.
Atreus tilted his head, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face. “Perhaps this will surprise you, but until a day ago, I had never heard the name Durnak, nor of the Forsaken Titan,” he began, his tone measured.
Moyo frowned slightly but remained silent, urging the Trademaster to elaborate.
“You fail to grasp the immensity of the Archailect,” Atreus continued. “There are countless empires I’ve never encountered, beings of unfathomable power who rise and fall without leaving so much as an echo in history. Even the paths we walk, the very ones we believe to be unique, may simply be recycled—transferred from one ascender to another. Rarity is often a matter of perspective.”
Moyo raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying there may have been another Titan Blade before me?”
Atreus smiled thinly, his hands steepled in front of him. “A curious question, Lord Titan Blade, and one I anticipated. I made some inquiries, of course.” He paused, his expression darkening slightly. “And was summarily warned off by the Vanguards. They made it abundantly clear that pursuing such a matter further would result in my sanctioning. The Syndicate would strip me of my title as Trademaster without hesitation.”
Moyo narrowed his eyes. “But you didn’t stop, did you?” he asked, his voice low and probing.
Atreus’s lips curved into a coy smile. “I may be many things, my lord, but reckless is not one of them. Drawing the ire of the Vanguards is a death sentence for even the boldest. I chose prudence.” His tone suggested otherwise, but Moyo let the matter rest. There were secrets Atreus wasn’t sharing, but prying further could lead to more complications than he needed.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“And the other matter?” Moyo prompted, steering the conversation to his more immediate concerns.
“Ah, yes. That.” Atreus straightened in his chair, a spark of excitement entering his voice. “You have less than two months before the Trial World manifests within your system. Preparations must be swift.”
Moyo’s brow furrowed. “The Trial World?”
Atreus nodded, his expression now more serious. “Indeed. Already, the other planets in your solar system have been claimed by five distinct races. They were meant to be six, but the last devolved into infighting. The High Arbiter—an impatient sort—eliminated them from contention.”
“Five races,” Moyo murmured, processing the information.
“I’ll forward the details to your Hud,” Atreus said, “but you should know this: events like these aren’t isolated. They’re broadcast across vast stretches of the Archailect’s domain. Millions—if not billions—will watch the bloodshed. Aurums will flow as wagers are placed on favorites. This is your stage, Lord Titan Blade. A chance to carve your name into the annals of existence.”
Moyo’s jaw tightened. “You’re telling me to go all out?”
“Atreus laughed softly. “Precisely. But understand, there are risks. A strong showing could earn you allies—perhaps even attract the attention of factions willing to extend their banners over Bastion. Conversely, it might provoke those who see your strength as a threat. They may come seeking battle.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Moyo replied firmly. “It’s better to meet them head-on than to wait for them to find us.”
Atreus inclined his head in agreement. “Wise. Time is not on our side. The alliances and rivalries that will shape the fate of your world are already taking form. It’s time the powers of this world convened and prepared. The clock is ticking, Lord Titan Blade.”
Moyo stood, his resolve sharpening. “Then let’s make our move.”
***********************
Tracking Martha down had been a surprisingly easy task. All it required was returning to the capital and asking a few pointed questions. Within moments, she shimmered into view, her presence materializing as if she had been lingering just out of sight the entire time.
“You know, it’s a bit creepy when you do that,” Moyo remarked, raising an eyebrow at her sudden appearance.
Martha offered him a soft, knowing smile. “Nothing better than keeping you on your toes.”
She pulled him into a brief hug, her demeanor as calm and collected as ever. “I trust you rested well?” she asked.
“The best I’ve had in a long while,” he admitted, stretching slightly. “Which reminds me—where is everyone?”
Martha pointed in the direction of Boyle’s forge, where plumes of faint smoke were visible even from this distance. “They’re helping Boyle and Samantha prepare for their path quests from the system.”
“Path quests?” Moyo asked, tilting his head. He vaguely remembered the system notification about them after they’d cleared the Yellow Zone event, but he hadn’t given it much thought at the time.
“Indeed,” Martha confirmed, “I even received one myself to upgrade my path. As you can imagine, they’re all solo quests.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I’m guessing they’re tough?”
“Extremely,” she replied, forwarding her quest notification to his Hud.
Moyo skimmed through it, his frown deepening as he finished. “This is... intense. Are you sure you can handle this on your own?”
Martha snorted softly. “You should see Boyle’s quest. He has to defeat something called the Guardian of the Forge Mountain to claim a forge that he’s already calling the ‘Forge to Rival All Forges.’ He’s practically glowing with enthusiasm.”
Moyo chuckled despite himself. “That does sound like Boyle.” He exhaled and gave her a measured look. “I guess I’ll have to trust in all of you.”
Martha patted his broad arm reassuringly. “We’ll find our way.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her tone shifted. “But I doubt you called me here just to chat.”
Moyo nodded, his expression growing serious. “I believe it’s time for all the factions to have a sit-down.”
Martha sighed, running a hand through her hair in thought. “That’s going to be... complicated. The Union wants nothing to do with us, and there are whispers of a new faction rising within their territory—something called Lumia. Jarl Urvan of the Federation is knee-deep in what can only be described as a bloody crusade to dominate the Green Zones. The Bharat Empire is under siege and has outright refused our offers of assistance. And as for the Jade Empire?” She shrugged. “They’re as insufferably aloof as ever.”
Moyo folded his arms, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Do you think I can get them all on a call?”
“Theoretically? Sure. Realistically? I wouldn’t count on it,” she replied, crossing her arms.
“Do it anyway,” he said, his voice firm. “Better yet, send a message to them—and include this Lumia faction as well. Inform them that I intend to host a tournament, and that I have important news about an opportunity that could shape our world’s future.”
Martha blinked, studying him intently. “You’re playing a dangerous game. What’s the message?”
“Tell them we’re on the cusp of an invasion,” Moyo continued, his tone resolute. “Let them know I already understand the players involved. If they want to learn more, they’ll answer my call. If not, I’ll leave them to their fates.”
Martha nodded slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It will be done. Should we begin preparations for the tournament?”
“Yes,” he said. “Although, I’m curious—how are we managing to trade with factions that supposedly hate us?”
Martha waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Only the Union and the Jade Empire have been openly hostile. The other factions don’t want us interfering in their affairs, but they aren’t above using the aether gates to conduct trade through settlements in their territories. Even the Union isn’t above taking advantage of trade when it suits them.”
“That makes sense,” Moyo mused, rubbing his chin. “I’ll be in the training chambers if you hear back from anyone.”
Martha gave him a final nod before turning toward the grand hall, her movements brisk and purposeful. Moyo, on the other hand, headed for the chambers, eager to put the Endless Edge style to the test.
**************************
The transition from knowing the techniques of the Endless Edge to executing them proficiently proved to be a monumental challenge for Moyo. His Hud marked most of the techniques with a [low] proficiency level, a humbling reminder that understanding was far from mastery. Each attempt pushed him to his limits, testing even his considerable endurance.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Moyo gripped Ida tightly, his resolve firm. He prepared to revisit the techniques, starting with Anchoring Strike.
Anchoring Strike [low]
A precise blow that roots the enemy in place by channeling crushing intent into the ground beneath them. The target feels as if invisible chains of power bind them, restricting movement and sapping agility.
The strain of the skill was immediate and intense. He channeled aether from his core, merging it with his aura and intent until the weight of the technique seemed to cling to Ida itself. Swinging the blade sent a visible ripple of energy into the ground. The very air seemed to shudder as the power settled, anchoring everything around it in a crushing grip.
Moyo staggered slightly, the exertion more than he had anticipated. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on.
Next was Blade Surge, a technique he had some familiarity with. Its [high] proficiency level reflected his ease, though executing it under fatigue required new levels of precision. The rapid arcs of aura lashed out, a chaotic yet controlled flurry that cut through the imaginary defenses of his unseen opponent.
He moved through the techniques in sequence, each step a calculated assault:
Anchoring Strike to root the foe.
Blade Surge to strip defenses.
Ruinous Reprise to punish counterattacks.
Overwhelming Crescendo to batter down any remaining resistance.
And finally, Finality’s Grasp, the culmination of the Titan Blade’s unrelenting supremacy.
When Moyo unleashed Finality’s Grasp, the chamber trembled violently. Ida descended with a thunderous roar, a crushing shockwave radiating outward, shaking the walls and leaving the air charged with residual energy. Moyo dropped to one knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the room slowly stilled. His sight wavered, and his skin steamed faintly from the heat of his exertion.
Collapsing onto the ground, he stared at his hands, rough and calloused—hands that could now crumble stone with a casual grip. “A tank with a blade,” he murmured to himself. That was what he had become. The memory of Ajax surfaced unbidden, a mix of determination and unease flashing across Moyo’s face. What would Ajax think of his progress? Would it meet his expectations—or fall short of them?
He pushed the thought aside. There was no point dwelling on what could not yet be answered. His attention snapped to the chamber doors as they creaked open, revealing Martha’s familiar form.
“They’ve assembled,” she announced simply.
Moyo rose, sheathing Ida and nodding in acknowledgment. “What should I expect?” he asked, his voice steady despite his fatigue.
“They’ll play games,” she replied, her gaze sharp. “Cut straight to the point and leave the rest to me.”
Moyo smirked faintly. “That’s the way I like it.”
The table where Moyo and his closest allies often gathered was now host to five shimmering holograms, each representing a faction’s representative. The figures exuded an air of authority and intrigue, Cassandra, Consul of the Union, stood with arms crossed, her military fatigues complementing the cold, unyielding expression on her face.
Jarl Urvan of the Federation, a hulking figure adorned with axes strapped to his back, his wild beard and attire as imposing as his reputation. Rajmala, Voice of Bharat, wore silken robes, her eyes burning with an intensity that hinted at the ferocity of her convictions.
A doll-like woman representing the Jade Empire, her lifeless gaze unsettlingly calm, her presence eerie and unnerving. Lastly, a man in black robes holding a staff, his golden irises glowing faintly as he smiled warmly—a contrast that set him apart from the rest.
Moyo inclined his head slightly. “Welcome, and thank you for answering my call. I’m truly grateful.”
“The honor is ours to speak to the Titan Blade,” Rajmala said with a nod of respect.
Cassandra snorted. “Say that again when he’s crushing your territory.”
“The way I hear it, you attacked first. What else should we expect from the Union?” Urvan growled; his tone thick with disdain.
“Peace, my friends,” the robed man interjected smoothly, his voice calm and measured.
“You shouldn’t even be here,” Samantha said sharply, her glare fixed on the man.
“Enough,” Moyo cut in, his tone firm. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Very well,” the doll-like woman from the Jade Empire said, her voice monotone. “The Jade Emperor wishes to inform you that you waste his time.”
“Then I’ll get to the point,” Moyo replied, exchanging a brief glance with Martha, who gave the faintest of nods.
“War is coming—and a trial as well. Earth will be at its center,” Moyo stated, his voice unwavering.
“And you know this how?” Samantha demanded; her skepticism clear.
“Because I told him,” Another voice interjected as Atreus entered the room. The Trademaster’s smile was as disarming as ever.
“Believe me,” Atreus said, his tone almost playful, “you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”