A Lesson in Severing the Storm
Instinct.
Instinct.
One hit. Just one hit. That was all it would take to shatter the woman before him. Tarkan knew this instinctively. No, it wasn't just instinct. His experience as an apostle of the Zodiac, having trampled countless battlefields, told him so.
The woman before him was no iron-bodied warrior. She was not a walking fortress clad in full armor like Edenkart, nor a monster that deflected impacts with a massive shield, nor a martial artist who fought using their own flesh and bone as weapons. Silver-white hair. A feather-light frame. Slender wrists.
A petite build revealed beneath the folds of her Eastern-style robes. It was a body that felt as though it would snap if Tarkan gripped her neck with a single finger.
And yet, that body... remained entirely out of reach.
Tarkan's fists were devastating. They ignored defense. Whether his opponent wore heavy armor, raised a shield, or surrounded themselves with magical barriers, his strikes did not stop at the surface; they penetrated deep within. Through the flesh, into the bone. Through the bone, into the organs. Through the organs, straight into the core that animated the entire body. He only needed to land one blow. Truly, just one.
This woman's technique, her speed, her sword—everything belonged to an entirely different dimension. Her blade read the flow of his movements as easily as turning a page. Her feet made barely a splash on the wet stone floor, and her eyes were already watching where his fist would end before it even arrived.
Even so, her defense was weak. Tarkan knew this. Just moments ago, when the tip of his finger had grazed Ena's shoulder, her skin had parted all too easily. It was not black blood, but crimson that welled up. A single drop. Barely a drop. Yet that single drop gave Tarkan absolute certainty.
If she gets hit, she dies. If she gets hit, she shatters. She was not a monster that could endure through sheer physical resilience. She possessed no skin as hard as iron, no flesh that regenerated like a demon's, and no armor or shield to absorb external impacts like Edenkart. Therefore, one hit. Just one hit would suffice.
It didn't even have to be a full fist; a mere fingertip would do. A grazing elbow would suffice. A knee merely pressing against her flank as it passed would be enough. Even a simple shoulder shove.
With that single contact, her fragile body would rupture from the inside out. Her ribs would splinter. Her lungs would tear. Her heart would stop from the shock. Her spine would shatter, folding her body in two. Tarkan knew this.
And yet... that single hit would not land.
His fist lunged. Ena was already inside his guard. His palm snapped shut. Ena was slipping between his fingers. His knee surged upward. Ena had already slipped past his inner thigh. His elbow swung. Ena was positioned beneath his shoulder before the elbow could even pass.
He charged with his shoulder. Ena rode the pushing force, gliding to the side, her blade grazing just below his collarbone. He threw a headbutt. Ena sliced the tendons in his neck first.
He tried to grab her. His wrists were too slow. He tried to retreat. His ankles were too slow. He tried to regenerate. The pathways of his regeneration were severed. He tried to move. The very muscles needed for movement were cut first.
His fists were undeniably fast. His body was undeniably strong. The impact was undeniably lethal. Yet, he could not touch her. Every time contact should have been made, Ena was not there. No, that wasn't right. She wasn't absent; she was closer. She was not outside the reach of Tarkan's fist, but inside the very space where the fist was being formed.
She was not at the terminal point where Tarkan's arm was strongest, but at the starting point where his strength was still gathering. She was not in front of Tarkan's charge, but beside the ankle that drove the charge forward.
She was not evading. She was not running away. Before Tarkan could fully manifest his power, she stepped directly into the path of his force and severed it. It was infuriating beyond belief. Tarkan gritted his teeth.
"Hold still!" he roared.
The entire sewer system rumbled. The black water trembled, and dust cascaded from the cracks in the walls. The bubbles at the relay point shook ever so slightly, and the squad members behind the shield instinctively ducked.
Ena did not answer. Only her sword moved.
Tarkan thrust his right hand forward. This time, it was a wide-palmed grab. Knowing she would try to slip between his fingers, he narrowed the gaps between them. Instead of closing his hand, he swept it. His five fingers curved like talons, attempting to scrape away any space Ena could use to escape. Perfect, Tarkan sneered inwardly. You won't be slipping through my fingers this time.
But Ena did not try to go between his fingers. She stepped onto the back of his hand. Or rather, she appeared to. The tip of her foot pressed against the base of Tarkan's thumb. Her body floated up lightly. She did not leap against the force of his swinging hand; instead, she rode the momentum of its trajectory. In an instant, Ena glided across the back of Tarkan's hand. Ilryun swept downward.
Slash.
The tendon connecting the back of his hand to his wrist parted. Tarkan's fingers stiffened a moment too late.
"If you narrow your fingers," Ena's voice drifted past. She had already stepped down from the back of his hand and was positioned at Tarkan's right flank. "The back of your hand is left wide open."
Roen's pen moved. *Scratch.*
Tarkan's eyes rolled back in sheer fury. "Shut your mouth!"
A left elbow came flying. This was not from his regenerated arm. It was a strike delivered at the fastest possible angle, born from a rightward rotation that perfectly synchronized his entire body. Short. Fast. Heavy. It was quicker to recover than a fist, and far more difficult to delay by cutting the wrist or fingers. The elbow was already a fully realized weapon.
Ena could retreat backward, but behind her lay the relay point. She could slip to the side, but Tarkan's knee was already rising to block that path. Leaping upward would leave her caught. Ducking downward would allow his defense-ignoring shockwave to travel through the ground and strike her. Tarkan believed he had landed it this time. His elbow drove straight toward Ena's temple.
At that exact moment, Ena raised her sword vertically. She did not block. The blade did not take the elbow head-on. Instead, the spine of Ilryun made contact beneath Tarkan's forearm. A single point. With that single point of contact, she deflected the trajectory of his elbow slightly downward.
Simultaneously, Ena's body folded inward, slipping inside the arc of his elbow. The elbow sailed past her head. It didn't even graze her. Yet the sheer wind pressure severed a few strands of her silver-white hair. The strands scattered over the black water. The wall behind her exploded.
*Boom!*
Ena spun her sword inside the crook of Tarkan's elbow.
*Slash.*
The inner upper arm. The deep muscle connecting his shoulder and elbow split open.
"A short strike," Ena said, "leaves little time to alter its course."
Tarkan's teeth ground together.
"Therefore, one must strike even sooner."
"Shut up!"
Tarkan stamped his foot.
*Thud.*
A shockwave rippled through the ground. Even without a direct hit, his defense-ignoring force could travel through the floor and invade one's ankles and knees. Ena was well aware of this. Her toes lifted from the ground. She did not leap high.
Just before the soles of her feet could absorb the impact from the floor, she hovered barely a paper's width above it. The shockwave swept past. The black water splashed outward in a perfect circle. Ena landed gracefully amidst the falling droplets. The moment her feet touched down, her sword swept low.
*Slash.*
The front of Tarkan's ankle—the exact spot where the force of his stomp was discharging. Tarkan's body swayed ever so slightly.
"For strikes traveling through the ground," Ena said, "lift your feet before receiving them."
Roen wrote it down. *Scratch.*
Ena's voice remained perfectly steady, without a single breath out of place. This only drove Tarkan further into madness. It was as if the fists, feet, and entire body he swung with all his might were nothing more than illustrative examples to be inserted between her sentences. She was fighting. She was undeniably fighting. Yet, at the same time, she was speaking. Observing, reading, and teaching.
When Tarkan threw a fist, she explained why that fist was dangerous. When Tarkan regenerated, she pointed out where his regeneration lagged. When Tarkan shook the ground, she demonstrated how to avoid the shockwave. And each time she finished speaking, a new wound appeared on his body. Shallow wounds. Non-lethal wounds. But wounds that steadily slowed his movements.
Tarkan regenerated. His black flesh writhed, tendons reconnected, the bleeding stopped, and his muscles swelled. Yet, the more he regenerated, the slower he became. When he used physical reinforcement to compensate for the regenerated areas, that very compensation left other parts of his body exposed. If he protected those parts, his core slowed down. If he protected his core, his feet slowed down. If he protected his feet, his hands slowed down. If he protected his hands...
A sword swept past his neck.
*Slash.*
This time, blood sprayed from the side of Tarkan's neck. It wasn't deep. But it was cold. And that coldness finally shattered the last of Tarkan's sanity.
"Aaaaaaaaargh!" Tarkan screamed in pure, unadulterated rage.
The sewer shook. It truly shook. The black water of the channel surged up to the walls, stone dust rained down like water from the cracked ceiling, and the bubbles at the relay point sloshed violently. Faint groans escaped the lips of the sleeping captives. Edenkart's shield slammed down in front of the rescue team. Roen's Ten Thousand Black Iron Seas spread along the cracks in the floor, forcibly binding the trembling ground together.
Tarkan's body swelled. His physical reinforcement deepened further. Black veins bulged across his flesh, his wounds were forcibly clamped shut, and not a trace of laughter remained in his eyes. He abandoned all technique. Grabs, fists, knees, elbows, headbutts, charges—he discarded all distinctions. He decided to simply obliterate. One hit. Just one hit. To land that single blow, he unleashed his entire body like a raging tempest.
His right hand crashed down from above. His left knee surged up from below. His shoulder drove in from the side. His foot stomped the ground, dispersing shockwaves. The horns on his back scraped against the walls, sending stone fragments flying.
At the same time, his ragged breath billowed from his mouth like black steam. To the eyes of the squad members, Tarkan seemed to be attacking from every direction at once. A massive hand. A knee. A shoulder. Black horns. An impact beneath their feet. Everything descended simultaneously. There was nowhere to escape.
Yet Ena stepped directly into the eye of that storm. The quietest place. The brief void at the center of the body just before all force radiated outward. Tarkan's rampage was vast. And because it was so vast, his center was hollow. Ena stepped into that empty space.
Before his right hand could descend, she grazed his wrist. *Slash.*
Before his left knee could rise, she sliced his inner thigh. *Slash.*
Before his shoulder could shove, she cut below his collarbone. *Slash.*
Before his foot could disperse the shockwave, she severed his ankle. *Slash.*
Before his horns could scrape the wall and return, she pierced beneath his nape. *Thud.*
Tarkan's body seized for a fraction of a second. He did not stop completely; a Zodiac's body would not be halted by so little. But his flow was broken. The windpaths of the storm were torn apart. Only then did the squad members realize: Ena had not dodged Tarkan's attacks one by one. She had severed the very currents of the storm before it could even form.
Ena spoke. "The greater the power," her blade swept past Tarkan's flank.
*Slash.*
"The more paths it must take."
Black blood sprayed.
"And the more paths there are," her foot stepped into Tarkan's shadow, "the more places there are to be severed."
Tarkan's fist descended once more. This time, it was perilously close. His black fingertips grazed Ena's shoulder. Her clothing tore. A thin red line appeared on her skin. A single drop of blood. Roen's eyes shook violently. But Ena did not stop. In exchange for that slight graze, she stepped directly in front of Tarkan's chest.
Tarkan laughed. "I touched you," he rasped, his voice laced with madness. "I touched you." A single drop of crimson blood trickled down Ena's shoulder. Tarkan's eyes locked onto it. He was certain now.
I knew it. If she gets hit, she shatters. That drop is proof. His next fist was already rising. This time, he would end it. Truly. One hit. Just one hit.
Yet Ena did not even look at the blood. "Fifth," she said, her voice low and cold. "Just because you make contact does not mean it is over."
Tarkan's eyes widened. Ena was already right in front of his chest. She was too close for his fist to form. She was too far inside for his elbow to gather strength. To raise his knee, he would have to pull his hips back, and the moment he did, her sword would strike. For the first time, Tarkan realized: he had not cornered Ena. Ena had lured him into this exact distance.
Before the fist could reach its peak strength. Before the release of force could find its direction. Before the physical reinforcement could propel his entire body. At the exact moment his energy gathered in the center of his chest—Ena was there.
The tip of Ilryun slipped in low. Tarkan tried to block, but his wrists were too slow. He tried to dodge, but his ankles were too slow. He tried to cover himself with regeneration, but the pathways had already been severed.
Ena thrust her sword.
*Thud.*
The sound was quiet. Incredibly quiet. Yet at that soft sound, the power gathering inside Tarkan's body instantly froze. The tip of her blade was embedded in the center of his chest. His heart. No, slightly deeper than his heart. The core where the energy he consumed gathered, where his physical reinforcement radiated to his entire body, and where his force had to pass before flowing into his fists.
Tarkan's eyes trembled. Ena did not withdraw her sword. She twisted her wrist. Inside him, the blade turned upward. From his heart to his throat. If she drew it straight up, it would be the end. Tarkan knew it too. If that sword path was completed, he would die.
Ena spoke softly. "Lastly."
Roen's pen stopped. Ena's voice sank to the deepest depths of the sewer. "When finishing an opponent, strike from the core to the throat."
The blade was about to rise.
Right then.
*Chime.*
From somewhere, the faint sound of a small scale's weight swaying echoed. Ena did not stop her sword. The blade rose.
*Riiip!*
However, what the blade tore through was not Tarkan's throat. Tarkan's entire upper-left torso, his regenerated arm, and a portion of his ribcage were ripped away all at once. Black blood drenched the sewer.
On the other side of the channel, beneath a collapsed archway, stood a figure draped in a black robe. In their hand, they held a small scale. On one pan lay a blood-stained lion's mane; on the other sat Tarkan's freshly severed upper-left torso.
"Libra..."
The scale swayed once more. *Chime.*
The black-robed Zodiac bowed slightly toward Ena. "A transaction paying the left side of Leo's body instead of Leo's heart. The balance has been maintained." The voice was devoid of emotion. "Leo still has value to live."
Tarkan knelt, coughing up blood. He had survived. But he had not survived by his own strength. He had been used as a textbook example. He had been driven to the brink of death. And in the end, his life had been bartered away on another Zodiac's scale. The sheer humiliation twisted his face into a hideous scowl.
"To use me..." Tarkan gritted his teeth. "To use my body as a textbook..."
Ena looked at him, her face splattered with black blood. On her shoulder, a single drop of crimson blood clung to her skin—the spot where Tarkan's fingertip had grazed her. Roen's gaze locked onto it. Sensing his stare, Ena spoke briefly.
"My blood is but a single drop."
At those words, the tense breathing behind her eased ever so slightly.
Then, Ena looked back at Tarkan. "You were an excellent textbook."
Those words utterly shredded the last remnants of Tarkan's pride.
Libra's scale tilted. Space began to slowly fold in on itself. Tarkan's body was dragged into the darkness. Just before he vanished, he glared at Ena, and then at Edenkart and Roen standing behind her.
"You bitch... I will remember this," his voice rasped, thick with blood and humiliation. "Next time, I will tear you limb from limb."
"How pitiful that such an idiot exists, having never even witnessed Baekil."
*Grind.*
"You fucking whore...! I'll shove stones up your—!"
Even as he dissolved into the darkness, Tarkan thrashed and spat curses.
Ena stared at the spot where he had been for a long moment.
...That was a bit close.
Without her knowledge of the original work, things wouldn't have gone nearly this smoothly. In fact, it was a tight balance. Leo was arguably the strongest opponent she could defeat without resorting to Baekil. While there were few Zodiacs stronger than Leo, trying to take them down with pure swordsmanship would be a massive gamble. She had only managed to handle Leo so easily because his pattern was simple to counter.
If he hadn't lost his temper...
If he had kept a cool head and employed unpredictable movements, they would have been evenly matched. It had indeed been a dangerous situation. Yet, using Baekil again was out of the question; its destructive power was simply too overwhelming.
I need another card besides Baekil.
She couldn't exactly drop a nuclear bomb in every minor skirmish. If she needed a weapon for times when she had to exert a moderate level of power...
*Tsk.* She felt a headache coming on.
"The lesson ends here. Everyone, return to headquarters."
"Understood, Commander!"
She would worry about it tomorrow. Ena sheathed her sword and let out a quiet sigh.
Aigoo. How frustrating.
She couldn't keep relying solely on swordsmanship to face the strongest foes forever. That was the only thought occupying Ena's mind.