Time seemed to slow as Krad stared at the web of death approaching him. The Thousand Cutting Winds technique was legendary, a skill that had ended countless battles in an instant. Each blade projection carried enough force to slice through steel, and there were dozens of them, all aimed at vital points.
DING!
System Alert!
Imminent Fatal Damage Detected
Survival Probability: 12%
Emergency Evasion Protocol Activating
Krad's system flared to life, flooding his vision with crimson warnings. But instead of panic, something else stirred within him, a deep, primal instinct that had been dormant until now.
"I can't dodge them all," he whispered, his amber eyes tracking each blade's trajectory. "But maybe I don't have to."
The crowd gasped as Krad did something no one expected. Instead of trying to escape the attack, he stepped forward, directly into the heart of the technique.
"WHAT IS HE DOING?!" the announcer screamed.
Ragnar's eyes widened in disbelief. "Fool! You're running straight into---"
But Krad was already moving, his body weaving through the maze of deadly projections with impossible precision. It was as if he could see every blade's path, every gap in the seemingly perfect attack. His movements were fluid, almost dance-like, as he slipped between strikes that missed him by mere millimeters.
DING!
New Skill Developing...
Dodge Skill Evolution in Progress
Current Synchronization: 67%
The system's voice echoed in his mind as Krad's body moved on pure instinct. Each near-miss sent adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses to an almost supernatural degree.
"This feeling..." Krad breathed, his body continuing its deadly dance. "It's like I can see everything in slow motion."
A blade projection grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Another sliced through his shirt, missing his ribs by a hair's breadth. But he kept moving, kept weaving, kept believing he could make it through.
"Impossible..." Ragnar's voice was barely a whisper. "No one has ever---"
DING!
Skill Evolution Complete!
Please Name Your Advanced Evasion Technique
The system's prompt appeared just as Krad executed a perfect spin, avoiding three simultaneous strikes. The moonlight streaming through the coliseum's windows seemed to follow his movements, creating an ethereal glow around his form.
"Moonlight..." Krad whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Like dancing in moonlight."
As the last blade projection dissolved into nothingness, Krad stood in the center of the arena, his clothes torn but his body intact. The crowd was completely silent, unable to process what they'd just witnessed.
"Moonlight Step," Krad said firmly, his voice carrying across the silent arena.
DING!
Advanced Evasion Skill Registered: Moonlight Step
Effect: When evading multiple attacks, movement speed increases by 50% and afterimages persist for 2 seconds, creating a mesmerizing dance-like effect that confuses enemies. Moonlight enhances all effects by 100%.
The crowd exploded into cheers, but Ragnar's face had gone pale. "You... you actually dodged the Thousand Cutting Winds? In twenty years of battle, no one has ever..."
"Sorry," Krad said, his usual cheerful demeanor returning. "But I had to survive that somehow. You're really strong, old man."
"Old man?" Ragnar's grip tightened on his sword. "I am the Blade Emperor! I will not be mocked by some upstart child!"
The temperature in the arena seemed to drop as Ragnar's killing intent spiked. His sword began to glow with an even deeper crimson light, and the runes on his armor flared to life.
"If you want to see true despair," Ragnar snarled, "then witness my ultimate technique!"
He raised his sword above his head, and suddenly the blade split into dozens of real copies, each one as sharp and deadly as the original. The crowd gasped as the weapons began to orbit around Ragnar like a constellation of death.
"Crimson Fang Secret Art: Thousands Slashes of Death!"
This wasn't an illusion or energy projection. These were real blades, each one capable of cutting through the finest armor. And they were all aimed at Krad.
"This is different," Krad realized, his instincts screaming danger. "These aren't projections. They're real swords, and there are so many of them..."
The first wave of blades came at him from all directions. Krad triggered his Moonlight Step, his body flowing like liquid shadow as he dodged and weaved. But unlike the previous technique, these swords adjusted their trajectories mid-flight, pursuing him with relentless precision.
SLASH!
One blade caught his shoulder, spinning him around. Another sliced across his back, drawing a line of blood. The crowd winced with each hit, watching as the young fighter began to accumulate wounds.
"He's getting overwhelmed!" Mist shouted from the stands. "Those swords are tracking his movements!"
Krad rolled to the side, barely avoiding a blade that would have taken his head off. "Okay, new plan," he panted, sweat mixing with blood on his face. "Less dodging, more punching."
He pivoted suddenly, catching one of the pursuing blades with his bare hand. The crowd gasped as he gripped the razor-sharp edge, his palm bleeding from the contact.
"What are you doing?!" Ragnar demanded. "You'll cut your hand off!"
"Maybe," Krad grinned, his grip tightening despite the pain. "But I've got a good grip."
With a roar of effort, Krad swung the captured blade like a club, using it to deflect two more swords. The metallic clash rang through the arena as he continued his desperate defense.
"Impossible!" Ragnar's composure was cracking. "No one fights my technique like this! It's madness!"
"Yeah, well," Krad grunted, ducking under another blade, "I've never been accused of being sane."
The battle became a whirlwind of motion. Krad danced through the storm of blades, sometimes dodging, sometimes deflecting, and occasionally catching them with his bare hands. His body was accumulating cuts and bruises, but his spirit remained unbroken.
DING!
Warning: Health Below 40%
Recommended Action: Retreat or Surrender
"No way," Krad muttered, ignoring the system's warnings. "I'm not backing down now."
The crowd watched in amazement as the weaponless fighter continued to hold his ground against the legendary Blade Emperor. This wasn't just a battle of skills, it was a clash of wills, and neither fighter was willing to give an inch.
"You're insane," Ragnar breathed, his own stamina beginning to flag from maintaining so many weapons. "Why won't you just fall down?"
"Because," Krad caught another blade, his hands now slick with blood, "I made a promise to my friends. I said I'd win this tournament, and I don't break my promises."
Something in his voice made Ragnar pause. The desperation, the determination, the absolute refusal to surrender, it reminded him of someone. Someone from long ago.
"Your friends?" Ragnar's voice was quieter now. "You're doing this for them?"
"Of course," Krad said, his smile genuine despite his wounds. "What else would I fight for?"
The answer hit Ragnar like a physical blow. His concentration wavered, and several of his floating swords clattered to the ground.