The silence had always been one of Atticus' favorite states.

The lack of noise, the lack of distractions, he savored every moment of it. So much so that even back on Earth, he would often venture out to the woods, basements, anywhere the bustle of people couldn't reach him.

That was why Logoth had become an invaluable asset the moment he learned it. Its function alone had placed it at the top of his abilities hierarchy.

That, however, was until… this.

The single utterance of the fifth art plunged the world into absolute stillness.

The Marquis were frozen midair all around him, eyes wide, darting frantically. Veins bulged along their necks and temples as many struggled desperately to move, yet it was as though an unseen force held them fast.

"What… what is this?"

"I—I can't move."

"Did you feel that? Something just passed through me…"

"Did he… did he attack us?"

"That's impossible. I didn't even see him move."

"We should've run…"

The murmurs rippling through the Marquis were cut short by a bellowing shout.

"Enough of this!"

Eyes snapped toward the source, landing on Dravek, whose will blazed violently around him like a raging storm.

"I am sick and tired of this farce! You…! You killed my daughter. You've humiliated the great Redflames faction again and again and think you can just stand there!?

"I am Dravek Solmar! I don't care what trick you used. I'll make you pay for it!"

His will swelled, its heat intensifying until the air around him warped. He clenched his teeth as molten veins surfaced across his body, forcing himself forward in a shaky step.

"Look! He's moving!"

"He's breaking free!"

Hope flickered in the Marquis' narrowed gazes, only for them to stiffen as Dravek's leg suddenly dispersed into the wind.

The Redflame froze. His will began to settle as he stared silently at where his leg had been. Slowly, he lifted his head and met Atticus' gaze.

"What did yo—"

The rest of his body followed.

A moment later, Marquis Dravek Solmar vanished from the world as though he had never existed.

Atticus felt countless fearful eyes locked onto him.

"What… what just happened?"

"He didn't even move…"

Atticus felt a faint vibration from his katana and released a quiet breath.

'The fifth art…'

The fifth art of the katana was far simpler than the others, though its effects were anything but. The previous arts had always demanded motion. But the fifth was the complete absence of it.

Nothing separated him from the world. With only his will and his katana, anything could be severed.

Still Blade.

He momentarily wondered about the ultimate end goal of the katana, then slid his blade fully into its sheath and watched as the Marquis began to disperse into the wind like smoke, their screams echoing around him.

When it was over, he fixed his gaze on the last remaining Marquis.

"Oh?" Ordan said.

"I thought you'd be relieved. You made it this far."

From his words alone, it was clear the man understood the situation, and had accepted it.

There wasn't even the slightest tremble in Ordan's voice, yet Atticus didn't miss the fear in his eyes as they lingered on the katana at his waist.

'I can use this.'

There was no better opportunity to extract information.

Atticus shifted his arm closer to his katana, catching the subtle flinch from Ordan. Even knowing he was already dead, the fear this weapon inspired was far too deep rooted.

Ordan let out a low chuckle, then slowly reached up and removed his mask. It wasn't what Atticus had expected.

Instead of an ageless, bearded face, he was met with one grotesquely disfigured. Looping, curved lines carved across his skin, converging at the center, his nose.

Atticus wasn't sure what to make of it. He had shattered multiple sentinel masks before, but this was the first time he'd seen one that hadn't been utterly battered.

Still, the wide smile on Ordan's face unsettled him. Anyone who smiled in the face of death should be studied.

"Not what you expected?"

"…"

Ordan laughed.

"Don't look so tense. If I were you, I'd be more curious than afraid."

His smile widened when Atticus offered no response.

"Still… I have to thank you. You've just shown something truly spectacular. That power… that sensation… my master's suspicions were correct. He is responsible for all this."

Atticus' eyes narrowed. Master… He… could it be what he was thinking?

He forced himself to steady his breathing. Losing his composure now would be disastrous. Fixing his gaze on Ordan, he spoke in a quiet, controlled voice.

"Who?"

Ordan stared at him in silence, then smiled.

"Asm—"

The world went still.

'W-what is this?'

Atticus tried to move, but his body refused to obey. It was as if an unseen force had locked him in place.

His katana began to tremble violently as a pressure unlike anything he had ever felt descended upon him. He slammed into the ground, his ears and eyes popping under the sheer force of it.

A relentless ringing tore through his ears, and his vision plunged into absolute darkness.

In that void, Atticus sensed a presence so ancient, so overwhelming, that his body began to shake as a numbing cold washed over him.

The ringing in his ears ceased, just in time for another powerful presence to emerge.

"You violate the rules—!"

The words were cut short, followed immediately by a cataclysmic rumble that tore through the earth.

Atticus threw himself over Anorah just as the force struck, and they were hurled back. He held her tight as they skipped across the land, until the momentum finally died.

He cradled Anorah against his chest and released a breath when he saw she was unharmed. His mind turned inward almost instantly.

'That voice…'

He had already etched it into memory. The Great Verge. The tone and his words made it clear that the initial interference had not been anticipated.

A being powerful enough to tear his way into the Verge Games and silence the Great Verge's protests…

Atticus swallowed.

'Is it… him?'

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