The air was still trembling after the explosion of light.Petals faded into ash. Mist returned, curling lazily around the silver plains of Swords Paradise.
Crimson stood beside the unconscious boy, his crimson eyes fixed on the girl before him.Lunaria.
The name still echoed inside his mind, bright and haunting.
She stood quietly, her gaze distant, the faint wind catching strands of her silver-crimson hair. The power around her had vanished as suddenly as it appeared, leaving only the faint scent of roses and steel.
Crimson wanted to say something—but before he could, the ground rippled.
The Assassins
From the shadows behind the broken stones, a figure crawled out—his armor charred, but his eyes burning with fury.He spat blood.
"So it was you…" he hissed. "The Phantom of the Code… Lunaria isn't your real name."
Lunaria's violet eyes froze instantly.Crimson felt a sudden chill in the air.
Another assassin appeared beside the first, then another—five of them in total, each bearing the crest of the Dalthen family on their shoulder. They were the kind that didn't belong in the open field; their very steps made no sound.
The lead assassin grinned darkly. "To think the Phantom Code's prodigy would protect a boy like this… how far the goddess of death has fallen."
Crimson blinked, confused. "Phantom… Code?"
Lunaria didn't answer. Her expression didn't change—but her eyes sharpened, glowing faintly violet.
"Say another word," she said softly, "and I'll make sure it's your last."
The Clash
The assassins attacked first.
They moved like smoke—silent, precise, deadly. Crimson barely had time to react before Lunaria vanished from her spot, leaving a swirl of crimson petals.
The next moment, two assassins were already down, their blades clattering uselessly across the mirrored ground.
Her movements were poetry in motion—graceful yet merciless. Every strike cut cleanly, every dodge flowed like water. The girl fought not like a swordswoman, but like a shadow that had learned to dance.
Crimson watched in awe.Even the swords in the realm hummed faintly as she moved, as if bowing in respect.
But then—one of the assassins broke from the fight, circling around behind her. His dagger glowed with black flame.
Crimson saw it before she did.
"Lunaria! Behind you!"
Without thinking, he threw himself forward, grabbing a sword that lay half-buried in the ground—a random blade, dull and chipped. He swung it with both hands, clashing against the assassin's dagger just before it reached her.
The impact threw sparks. The sword in Crimson's hands cracked… but didn't break.
The assassin staggered back, eyes wide.Crimson felt something burn inside him—an instinct, a strength that didn't belong to someone so young.
He pushed forward, knocking the assassin out cold with the hilt of the sword.
Lunaria turned, eyes widening slightly. For a brief second, her composure slipped.
"…You—"
Before she could finish, Crimson smiled weakly. "Guess I'm not completely useless."
Her lips parted, then closed again. She turned away quickly, hiding the faint pink on her cheeks.
"Hmph. You just got lucky. If I wasn't distracted, that attack would've never come close."
Crimson laughed softly. "Right. You totally had it handled."
She glared at him. "Don't get cocky, weakling."
But even as she said it, her voice trembled slightly—not from anger, but from something far more complicated.
She hated how her heart had skipped for a moment.How someone so ordinary had stepped in front of her without fear.
She straightened her back, sheathing her blade. "You should be thankful I didn't let you die. Try to survive until we meet again… maybe then you'll be worth my time."
And with that, she turned—her figure fading into the mist like a phantom.
The Bond of Boys
Silence followed.
Crimson exhaled, sitting down beside the unconscious boy. After a while, the boy stirred, blinking groggily. "Did… did we survive?"
Crimson smiled faintly. "More or less."
The boy looked around nervously. "The girl… where is she?"
"Gone. She's… something else."
The boy nodded slowly, then smiled—a small, grateful smile. "By the way… I never said my name. I'm Ren Dareth."
Crimson blinked. "Dareth? One of the five sword families?"
Ren looked away shyly. "Yeah… though I'm not really proud of it. They never thought much of me."
Crimson grinned. "Well, guess that makes two of us. I'm Crimson."
Ren's eyes widened a little. "Crimson… like your eyes?"
"Yeah. My grandpa named me that."
Ren laughed softly. "Fits you."
The two boys sat quietly for a moment, the strange peace of the realm settling around them. Then, as if by silent agreement, they stood.
"Let's stick together," Ren said. "Until we find our swords."
Crimson nodded. "Yeah. Together."
Through the Jungle of Blades
They walked for what felt like hours. The mirrored plains gave way to thick jungle—trees made of swords and leaves of steel, their edges whispering softly as the wind passed.
Strange creatures moved in the shadows—beasts of iron and light. Each one radiated danger.
But Crimson felt something else too.Every step they took, he could hear the swords calling.
Not one… not two… all of them.
It was faint at first, like the echo of voices in his mind. But the deeper they went, the clearer it became.
Ren didn't notice—he was focused on finding water, marking paths, and staying alive. But Crimson… he was listening to something that wasn't supposed to exist.
At last, they reached a clearing.
In the center stood a massive monument—a crystal pillar surrounded by floating swords, hundreds of them. Each blade glowed faintly, resonating with life.
Ren stopped, awestruck. "It's… beautiful."
Crimson took a step forward. The swords began to tremble.
One by one, they turned toward him—each blade pointing in his direction, their glow intensifying.
Ren stumbled back, eyes wide. "Crimson… what's happening?"
Crimson's heartbeat quickened. The air was vibrating with sound—no, with voices.
He could feel every sword calling to him. Each one whispered his name, their energy intertwining with his soul.
Then, in an instant, the forest erupted in light.
Blades rose into the air, spinning slowly around him like a halo. The pillar pulsed, its light reflecting off his crimson eyes.
Ren could only watch in disbelief.
Crimson raised his hand—and every sword in the clearing responded.
One by one, they knelt before him.
The world stilled. The light faded.
Crimson stood there, surrounded by the silent, reverent swords.His crimson eyes burned brighter than ever.
Ren whispered, almost afraid to breathe."Crimson… what are you?"
Crimson looked down at his hand, trembling slightly.
"I don't know," he whispered."But it seems… the swords do."
And somewhere, deep in the mist of Swords Paradise, a familiar voice laughed softly—Lunaria, watching from afar, a small smile curving her lips despite herself.
"Hmph. So the weakling isn't ordinary after all…"
She turned away, her cloak fluttering.
"But next time… I'll be the one to test that strength."
End of Chapter 7