Tyler still remembered it clearly. Night after night, lying in bed while his mother sat beside him, telling stories instead of reading them from books.

Tales of humans who lived during that era when Humans were nothing like the people of today.

They were stronger.

To a child, it felt like listening to legends of a higher existence.

As he grew older, Tyler never lost his love for history. If anything, it deepened even more. And among all the figures recorded in those ancient stories, there was one warrior who stood apart from the rest.

The reason he chose the path of a weapon master.

A human so overwhelmingly powerful that historians dared to compare her to the Five Calamities themselves. A warrior whose strength was said to rival theirs.

At first, Tyler had thought it exaggerated. And was just another glorified myth.

But the more he read, the more he believed it had been real.

Why wouldn't he?

He had spent countless days and nights searching through records, documents, fragmented texts, trying to learn more about her. About her early life. About her journey….. her battles. Even her lover, whose name appeared in many of the stories.

Yet there was one thing none of the books ever explained.

How her story ended.

All that remained were titles. Those fragmented descriptions left behind by history.

"The Shattered Swordmaiden."

"A Broken Human of the Calamity."

"The Gods' Unlucky Daughter."

Names that carried no triumph and no peace.

What was recorded, however, was her power.

A power so absolute that one record described an entire mountain being reduced to ash.

Tyler had dreamed of that power.

If not to wield such power himself, then at least to witness it once in his lifetime.

Lady Lumina Elizabeth Dare.

An existence who left behind countless legends, yet almost nothing tangible to herself. Her sword style was one such mystery, and was never passed down to anyone. Never recorded properly, and only vague descriptions scattered across texts, captured in them.

Even now, researchers and professors still studied her techniques, trying to reconstruct something that was never meant to be inherited by anyone. And till now, all have resulted in failure.

Lumina had wielded only one weapon in her entire life.

A pure white sword, constantly surrounded by unstable mana.

A blade which was said to be forged beneath the moon.

It was called Moonblade.

A legendary weapon wielded by history's greatest Swordmaiden.

By her…

"Moonblade…?" The word escaped Tyler's lips before he realized it.

His eyes were locked onto Stage Four. Onto the black-haired boy standing there.

Leon Valentine, he held a white sword that vibrated with unstable mana, resonating with his body at an almost absurd level. The air around the blade trembled faintly.

Tyler could not look away.

With a single glance, he knew.

He tried to protest, telling him that it could have been a replica.

But it wasn't.

That presence, that pressure, and that instinctive fear clawing at his senses the moment his eyes locked in that weapon in his hand.

The energy embedded within that blade was real and unsettling to look at.

Sir Tyler Grimwar stood frozen, staring at the impossible.

"..."

History was not supposed to stand in front of him.

Yet it was all true.

Tyler watched as Leon's hand moved.

Just a slight flick of the wrist which made it look like any ordinary move.

For a brief instant, Moonblade left behind a faint trail in the air, like an afterimage that refused to disappear. Mana followed that movement, stretching thin before dissolving into air.

Tyler's breath caught.

'That mana…'

It was ice.

It was so pure that it felt out of place in this situation. There was no distortion, or residue of mixed elements. It flowed cleanly, as if it had been refined beyond what modern standards could even define.

Yet the blade itself remained unstable.

Tyler could see it clearly now. Moonblade was chaotic, and its mana fluctuated constantly, which made it refuse to settle. But the ice mana being drawn from it, absorbed directly into Leon's body, was flawless.

'What… is happening…?' Tyler thought, as his mind struggled to connect the pieces.

Before he could process further, a voice broke the silence.

"Huh?" Kian blinked.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes drifting toward his sword in his hand which felt lighter than usual. Kian remembered striking something. He was certain of it.

His grip tightened.

The weight of the sword felt wrong.

"…?"

Kian's eyes widened when he noticed that more than half of his blade was gone.

A Stage Six black Mythril sword, severed cleanly, as if sliced through butter.

His breath hitched.

"Behind you." The voice was calm from behind him.

Kian turned sharply.

Leon stood there, twisting his wrist once, as the Moonblade gleaming softly in his hand.

"You…" Kian whispered. "What did you do?"

Leon just looked at him, and smiled.

Kian did not lower his guard.

Even with most of his Mythril blade gone, he instinctively shifted his stance, turning his body toward Leon while gripping what remained of the sword.

His breathing was uneven, and his thoughts were clearly lagging behind what had just happened.

"What the hell did you do?" he demanded.

Leon tilted his head slightly, genuinely confused.

"Hm?" he said. "You didn't see?"

Kian's grip tightened. "See what?"

Leon lifted Moonblade casually and traced a small arc through the air with it.

"I cut your sword," he replied. There was no mockery in his tone.

Kian took a step back.

"No," he said sharply. "That's impossible. That was a Grade Six Mythril blade. There's no way it could break—"

Leon interrupted him without raising his voice.

"Are you blind?" he asked calmly. "It already did."

"..."

Kian's composure snapped.

"Don't kid with me!" he shouted, pushing off the ground as his body surged forward.

The broken blade swept upward in a vertical arc aimed straight at Leon's torso.

"Haaah..." Leon sighed.

As Moonblade hummed, ice mana surged again. The mana drawn from the sword flowed cleanly now, refined instantly as Rumi filtered it through Leon's body. What remained was pure Ice mana.

Kian's movement was fast, and lethal.

But Leon had already calculated it.

He twisted his body smoothly, stepping out of the arc by a narrow margin.

BAM-!

The broken Mythril blade smashed into the concrete, carving a deep scar across the stage.

Leon glanced at the mark, then back at Kian.

"Wow," he said lightly. "That might've actually killed me."

Before Kian could react, Leon closed the distance.

He inverted Moonblade, gripping it by the handle, as he made ice mana condensing rapidly at its tip. Then he pressed it lightly against Kian's abdomen.

And released everything at once.

"…!"

Ice exploded outward.

Kian's body was launched backward in a blur, frost spreading across his torso as he flew off Stage Four and slammed into the far wall of the arena.

ZAAAAA—!

"Ghaaa—!"

Leon straightened slowly, watching Kian's body fall limp against the stone.

"Phew," he muttered. "Did I put too much into that?"

Rumi's voice echoed calmly in his mind.

He's alive. The mana enveloped his body and formed a temporary ice shield. He has fractures, but his vitals are stable.

"…Is that so."

Leon exhaled.

'That strike earlier was lethal,' Rumi added. 'I took precautions when you launched that attack.'

Leon paused, then smiled faintly at his overly intelligent ice spirit.

"Good work Rumi."

— — —

For a few seconds, the entire arena forgot how to breathe.

All eyes were fixed on Stage Four, on the lone figure still standing there without a single scratch on him. Jet black hair, refined posture, sharp golden eyes, Leon remained where he was, the Moonblade resting loosely in his hand.

No cheers erupted, and no one spoke up.

It was silent.

Even those who had expected Leon to win did not expect it to end like this.

They knew the single rankers stood on a different level. Everyone in Class S knew that much.

But watching a duel between Rank Eight and Rank Two unfold so completely one-sided shattered whatever vague assumptions they still held.

This was not a struggle. This was not a close exchange. Heck–! It would be wrong to even call it a fair duel.

Which duel had this much difference in strength?

It looked less like a duel and more like a demonstration to everyone. To them it looked like Leon was flaunting his skills, even though he was a light user, he didn't even use a single bit of it here.

All eyes turned to his opponent.

Kian lay motionless against the far wall, and the thick frost still clinging to his clothes, his broken black mythril sword scattered uselessly beside him.

The gap between them was no longer something that could be explained by rank alone.

It was visible with their naked eyes.

The referee stood frozen near the edge of the stage, his mouth slightly open, eyes darting between Leon and Kian as if his mind was still trying to catch up.

Only after several long seconds did he finally move.

He swallowed, stepped forward, and raised his voice.

"…Winner," he announced, still sounding slightly shaken, "Leon Valentine!"

Sir Tyler had seen everything.

'It's the legendary Moonblade…' Tyler muttered inwardly.

There was no doubt left now. No weapon in existence matched the descriptions this closely.

And Tyler was not someone who spoke lightly about history.

He had dedicated most of his life searching for clues about that blade. Reading every fragmented text, every half-burnt record, every footnote dismissed by other scholars as unreliable.

He would recognize it anywhere.

'Where did he get it from…?'

Tyler knew who Leon stood beside.

He knew about Veronica. The strongest human of this era. For a moment, he considered the possibility that the sword had come from her.

It was plausible.

But the way Leon handled the blade made him hesitate.

Moonblade was not being forced.

'The Moonblade chose him…'

'Even weapons had souls.' That was something Lumina herself had once said.

Tyler exhaled slowly and accepted it.

Then he looked back at Leon and froze.

Leon was smirking. His golden eyes shifted, locking onto Tyler's position for a brief second.

His lips moved as he said something looking at his way.

Tyler narrowed his eyes, reading his lips

How. Was. It?

"…what the?" Tyler murmured under his breath.

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