Thirteen Forms, One Flash
The chaos was unfolding in strange ways. The passage narrowed, then widened again, repeating the pattern several times. The movements of the ones leading ahead were shifting subtly. The intervals between their groping shortened, and the pauses grew fewer. It meant their sense of direction was sharpening. I followed from behind, keeping my distance. The passage bent once more. Then again. Suddenly, the space opened wide. It was the station.
The ceiling loomed high, and the walls on either side were half-torn away, exposing their skeletal frames. The edges of the platform-like structure jutting up were crumbled in places, and below stretched a broad, smooth track that ran long—once the path for train cars, no doubt. Now it was all shredded and collapsed, impossible to distinguish floor from debris at a glance.
The problem lay dead center. A massive structure utterly out of place in the station had embedded itself there. At first, I thought it might be a collapsed research facility. But that didn't explain it. Beneath surfaces that gleamed like metal, dry stone-like layers peeled back, intertwined with translucent walls and unidentifiable bones. It resembled a lab, or perhaps an ancient buried relic half-exposed. Above all, it hadn't always been there. The floor had been lifted from below. The platform and track were twisted and torn, clear signs of the behemoth forcing its way up through the cracks. It looked shoved upward from the depths.
I stared for a long while. To the naked eye, it was just shattered wreckage. But that wasn't all. As my gaze lingered, faint layers beneath the surface flickered into view. Inside the crumbled outer walls, amid inverted frames, between misaligned fragments—alien flows glinted through. Familiar, yet foreign. They resembled the seals and formations I'd seen in my daoist days. But not quite. Not the neatly woven patterns I knew, but something crudely stitched together by a different principle. Similar, that was all.
I couldn't name it precisely. Stranger still were the contaminants. They swarmed nearby but acted as if blind to the core. They brushed past it and moved on, groping only at the base of fallen walls or cracked fissures. Drawn to something, yet unable to pinpoint the heart. Concealed, perhaps? I wasn't sure. But the conviction grew: this was no mere ruin.
The hunger swept through me again. No time for prolonged scrutiny. To keep watching, I'd need to take down a few nearby contaminants first, shore up my strength. I twisted my body. Just as I targeted the closest one, a long, rending screech descended from above. Riiip. Metal and structures splitting at once. Not just once. Crack. Crraaack. Something streaked along the ceiling, slicing through the upper framework in a chain of severing booms, ripping entire sections free.
My body froze first. A beat later, the explosion hit. Boom. Two flows plunged downward ahead of the debris. One was refined, smooth. An orderly current, akin to dao arts. The other differed—heavy, thick, more beast than man. Linked somehow to those armored monstrosities I'd seen before. But this was far more polished.
Part of the ceiling caved, spilling bent frames and panels. Crunch. Tumble tumble. Through the gaps, two figures dropped. One twisted mid-fall, sliding down debris before coiling to shed the impact. A man with a bold face and long hair tied back. Beneath his wuxia-style robe gleamed an exoskeleton, auxiliary devices on his shoulders and arms spitting brief flashes.
The other was different. Not falling, but slicing straight down through the ceiling. Humanoid—and that made it more ominous. In one hand, a black single-edged blade; the longer I looked, the harder it was to tell if it was a weapon or part of its body. No scabbard, no draw. It was simply there, all at once. The moment it touched ground, the air felt thinly sliced. Shhh.
I curled into myself instantly. Behind a pillar's shadow, deeper into the crevice. My state was a wreck. If I had a bit more energy, I might've been spotted. But now, on the verge of hibernation, my presence was deadened. Whether from hunger scouring my core or not, even I felt my aura faint. Thanks to that, neither glanced my way.
And so they crashed into the center. The black blade swept past. Slash. I'd thought it short of range, but the hem of the man's robe split belatedly. The frame he'd just stepped on slid sideways at the same delay. The strike landed first; the effect followed.
The man exhaled sharply. "Hah." A light sound, but his body was already retreating. His toe feigned a slip on a broken panel, then snapped to a wholly new angle. The exoskeleton gave a short boost, but what caught my eye first wasn't that. It was movement ingrained from treading a single path for years. Not far from the warriors of my daoist days.
The man clicked his tongue briefly. "Damn, running into the sketchiest bastard right here."
No reply. He seemed unbothered by the silence, as if it didn't matter if the other understood.
"Fine, names first. Mudang Corporation's Jemadae—Yeon Mujin."
Mudang Corporation. A new name. But his movements weren't. That dao-like flow. Motions etched by time. The name was alien; the essence, not.
Yeon Mujin scanned the black figure, rolled his shoulder. Crackle. Sparks flew from the severed exoskeleton frame. "Tch, you're done. No interest in talking, huh."
The words barely ended before the black form lunged again. Shorter this time. No room to track it—the result hit first. The spot Yeon Mujin had just stood split thin, debris cascading behind. It mimicked a human slash but twisted beyond: distance, rhythm, the way effects trailed.
Yeon Mujin moved first. His foot hit a broken frame; his body flowed diagonally. Seeming to dive forward, but half a beat to the side. The blade tip grazed low. A thin, ordered energy swept the debris. Slash. Three swarming contaminants cleaved at once. He passed without a glance. "Even the small fry are hyped."
The black one stayed silent. Its blade tip rose a fraction. That motion alone split the air first. Yeon Mujin dodged. The pillar corner behind slid down in pursuit. Craaack. Yeon Mujin's grin faded slightly. "Your style's filthy."
Then the black form twisted once. Waist down unmoving, the upper segment spun another way—a pose that would've snapped a human spine. Yet it flowed the blade from there. Monstrous. And one more thing: its back was off. A black strand, first mistaken for torn cloth or exoskeleton shard, lagged as it turned. Like fabric in wind, then flesh adhering. No mere ornament.
Yeon Mujin had noticed. His eyes narrowed. "......Hah. Another one on your back, huh." His mouth kept moving, but his voice deepened. "Can't just let that slide."
The black one didn't respond. The blade rose again. This time, two points in one beat. Front blade extended half a handspan; the back strand thrust like a spike. Up and down. Front and flank. They closed together.
Yeon Mujin's exoskeleton cracked first. Craaack. Abdomen. The black blade sank deep. Half a beat later, hot energy leaked like a thread, black blood trailing. "That actually hurts a lot."
His knee buckled. I thought he'd hit the floor. But he braced on debris, regained footing. The grin vanished. Lips sealed. Playful eyes sank. Hard to believe this was the man who'd tsked and joked moments ago. Blood trickled to his mouth. The black blade in his gut withdrew slowly. Hot energy seeped from the wound, then snapped back inside. The spilling blood halted. The scattering energy gathered.
I was starving. My core scraped raw. I couldn't look away. But I knew I couldn't last. Whoever won, the victor would scour the area. Scoured, I'd be found. Found, it was over. One had to die. Both, even better.
Yeon Mujin regripped his sword. The tip flicked once. First point. Second beside it. Third higher. Fourth lower. Fifth, sixth, seventh. Points stamped rapidly. Thin voids bloomed in the air, each pierced by his tip. Too fast for my eyes to fully track, yet the points were clear. Eighth. Ninth. Tenth. I counted as I watched. Strange that I could. Surely beyond visual speed, but each stamp held a pausing breath. One strike, one precise target. Acupoint precision.
Eleventh. Twelfth. One left. Yeon Mujin drew a long breath. Blood overflowed his mouth again. "Halun Cleaving Moon Sword." Low and clear. Not the joking voice from before. "Thirteenth Form, One Flash."
With the words, the final point stamped. The twelve prior unraveled at once. A thread of energy burst from each. Twelve streams rose half a beat late, surging toward the last point. Whoooosh— The air skewed one way. Dust atop debris floated up; torn cloth snagged on broken pipes fluttered in unison.
One thread shot out. Thin. All twelve points, his blood, energy, breath—loaded into it. The final move. Truly final.
I saw it. Off by one cun. Yeon Mujin was already half-tilted. The thread's end missed its mark by one cun. On course, it'd graze the black one's chest.
One cun. Enough. Something extended from my core. Mine? Or involuntary? Once. Once, and it shifted that cun a fraction. The converged thread realigned and struck true. Slash.
The black one's chest split aslant. The writhing back strand severed with it. Black fluid jetted late, soaking the floor. But it didn't end there. Black energy rippled from the wound's edge like a surge. The cut's depths boiled and inverted. Not mere severance—something viscous inside incinerated.
The black one stepped back. Chest gaped. Back strand dragged slack across the floor. Blade tilted down. Craaack. Body twisted, crumpled sideways. Still.
Yeon Mujin watched to the end. Blood brimmed his lips. Sticky sounds from the gut wound. Splatter. Knees buckled. No bracing this time. One shoulder hit the floor. "......Hng." Blood-smeared lips, he chuckled low. "Can't protect it this time either."
"......Promised I'd hold this time."
His head slowly bowed. That was the end.