Chapter 23: Past and Future

Clang!

At the Three-Sword Church where Eli and Birand faced off, a tidal shock of power rippled outward like a storm breaking its banks.

Birand snapped backward, thrown like a leaf in a gale.

Eli flicked both blades. He shed the force clinging to him, then surged after Birand like a hawk diving.

Clang, clang, clang!

They crossed blades in midair again and again, each clash a thunderhead bursting. Sword aura and strange energy ate at space like acid rain, wrecking the Celestial Realm’s skies.

Abyss stood upon the vault of heaven, a dark cliff against the light, spreading her own power to shelter the gods below like a canopy.

Edlyn tipped her chin, moon-bright eyes noting Abyss in the clouds. Her focus stayed sharp as a blade; she bled strength in secret, shoring up the barrier like weaving silver threads.

“They’re…?” Yulia stared at the two locked in a storm of steel, her mind snagging like a kite line. She looked to Edlyn.

“Nothing big. They were bound to fight. This is just a warm-up,” Edlyn said, calm as a lake at dawn, with a small smile.

“This is just the warm-up?” The Celestial God shook her head, speechless, like watching lightning crawl toward dry fields.

Edlyn looked her up and down. She rubbed her chin, playful as a cat. “Hey, Celestial God. Where’s that grand, thunder-on-the-mountain tone of yours?”

Silence first, pride second. “I’m just an avatar,” she said, voice like wind thinning at high altitude. “My power’s low. If I push too hard, I’ll vanish and fail my people. If I pull those two’s storm down onto me, I’ll evaporate on the spot.”

Her chin lifted, but the majesty felt like a fading sunset.

“Oh, so that’s how it is.” Edlyn’s smile held meaning, like ink pooling under a brush.

“What’s with that look? And who are you?” The Celestial God frowned at Edlyn, sensing twin tides inside her—one like her own, one its mirror-shadow.

“We? We’re travelers who cross time and space!” Edlyn flashed a wink, hands raised like swallows taking wing.

“...”

“Hey! What’s with that stare? Keep it up and I’ll deck you!” Her words snapped like a twig in firelight.

Elsewhere, Birand and Eli traded blows without rest, two meteors grinding trails across the sky.

Birand slipped under, the scale tipping against him. Eli pressed hard, a relentless storm front driving him back.

Birand took the hits head-on, no room for a counter. He gritted his teeth, trying to pull distance like prying open a rusted gate.

Eli hounded him like a viper in tall grass, every step coiling tighter, jaws locked and merciless.

“Pause!” Birand caught Eli’s twin blades and barked the word like a drumbeat.

Eli ignored him. He chuckled, drew back the Jade Seal Sword, and slashed toward Birand’s waist like cutting through river reeds.

“Shit!” Birand roared. Power exploded off him like a volcano venting. He hammered Eli back a heartbeat, ripped open space like tearing silk, and dove inside.

Eli frowned. His mind rolled out like a tide over sand. In a snap, he found Birand’s mark and flashed toward it like a streaking comet.

In that breath, Birand reshaped his other arm into a crimson long blade, a brand of living fire. He struck as Eli burst through, a falling guillotine.

Steel met steel. Twin swords and twin knives tangled like antlers locked in winter rut.

No flourishes, no dance—just bone-simple killing and brutal grappling, the kind that smells of iron and sweat.

Even low kicks and crotch shots came out—anything goes when thunder’s in your veins.

It wasn’t lack of mystic arts. It was cheek-to-cheek violence; there’s no time to gather the moon when a slip means your head rolls.

Their collisions spread for thousands of miles, like two storms carving trenches in the clouds.

Everything in their path lay ruined, a wasteland of shattered sky and broken earth.

Even the Celestial Realm’s defenses crumbled like old stone under a river’s grind, turning to ash in breaths.

The Celestial God watched, anxious as a sparrow in a squall. “At this rate, my Celestial Realm is done.”

Edlyn shrugged, sea-calm. “What else can you do? This is your tier’s gladiator bout. Gods fight, mortals suffer—you know the proverb. Do your job and hold the line.”

“Aren’t you here to help me? Move!” The Celestial God eyed the mask-wearing white-haired girl, puzzled as fog at dawn.

The white-haired girl glared back, frost-bright. “This is a 1v1, a man’s duel. Why would I stick my nose in?”

“...” The Celestial God rolled her eyes, then chose silence, like snow settling.

Edlyn etched the scene, stroke by stroke like calligraphy on mist. She trimmed some pieces, smeared others, dripped paint and rumor until it felt messy and real. Then she poured the whole wild collage into Akenachel’s mind like tipping a lake.

The future self was a fledgling sparrow; better not to drown her in too much sky.

Both fighters felt it—this path wouldn’t end quick.

They gathered power. Then, as if mirroring each other, they kicked hard, two battering rams slamming at once.

Both flew back like leaves before twin gusts.

Birand got booted into the ground, a meteor punching a crater. Eli was driven toward the vault of heaven, a star flung higher.

At the same heartbeat, they pulled power in. Countless streams flooded them like rivers during spring thaw.

A gray haze rose over Eli, sheathing him like morning fog. He raised his blade and cut toward Birand like a falling moon.

Birand boiled again, a volcano bellowing at the sky. His rage shook space like an earthquake’s growl.

They met once more, impact howling outward, their energy waves a thousandfold stronger, a sea storm breaking cliffs.

Abyss frowned. She set both hands on the barrier, palms like night pressed to glass.

Even aftershocks had teeth. The leftover surge bit hard, like wolves among reeds.

Their weapons drank a unique light, a signature aura wrapping steel like frost on branches.

Separated by hundreds of meters, they kept slashing, arcs bright as lightning and cold as winter suns.

Blade-light and sword-gleam saturated the cosmos, a net of radiance dragged across night.

Eli slipped past a cleaving arc, a swallow folding in the wind. He blinked—eyes closed, then open—and clones flared like lanterns around him.

They struck from different angles, rain from all directions.

Birand swung twin blades, scything down each mystic art like harvesting wheat.

Even ringed by Eli’s clones, he stood dominant, a bear in the center of a storm.

“Die!” Birand roared, crossing his knives. He heaved a massive horizontal slash, a horizon of steel rolling toward Eli.

Eli let his lashes lower, a calm falling like evening. He sank into a state, nameless as still water.

His hair slipped free of its band, drifting like black rivers in space. He stood amid the universe, holy light welling on him like dawn on ice.

Blade-light traced through Eli’s body, but he was like clear water. The arc passed, and nothing changed but the tremble of starlight.

The Jade Seal Sword and Thias blazed at once, twin currents surging like twin suns.

Eli kept his eyes closed. Behind him, a vast phantom rose—an ancient tree, crown spreading like constellations.

It sank into him slowly, roots threading into his frame like veins of light.

Birand saw it. His power screamed and tore, a last all-out burn, a wicker man set ablaze.

“Oblivion!”

When the great tree finally fused, Eli opened his eyes. The world went still, like snow before dawn.

He didn’t move. The next instant, he was beside Birand, time stepping like a dragonfly over a pond.

Birand’s blades fell in reflex, a guillotine chasing the moment.

Eli raised his foot and kicked straight into Birand’s crotch, brutal as a mule. “Shout that loud? Trying to die?”

Of course, it wouldn’t end in a joke. Birand was flooded with power; a kick alone wouldn’t break his ultimate.

Eli lifted the Jade Seal Sword. Above it, the world’s gathered force congealed like storm-cloud weight. He drove it with the momentum of his kick, the strike and foot one tide.

Birand’s eyes widened. Eli moved faster than sight, a blue streak of steel. The blade punched through Birand’s skull like a needle through silk.

“A heart like still water; the myriad blooms fall hush,” Eli whispered, breath like frost. He watched Birand’s amassed power crumble like sandcastles, then drift back to their sources like mist.

Eli smiled. He drew out the Jade Seal Sword. No blood stained it, no trace remained—only quiet, like midnight on a lake.

“Avenger,” Eli said, tone soft as rain. “Let go of your hatred. Let go, and she might still be saved.”

“No! Impossible!”