What appeared as a single strike was, in truth, a symphony of destruction that made the world itself convulse.
Bairan was a master swordsman. But the depth of his mastery? That revelation sent shockwaves through reality itself.
In one fluid motion, he had moved and swung three hundred thousand strikes simultaneously. Each blade—Dark Mortal, Stainless, and Illusioned Hefter—carved a hundred thousand paths through air and flesh in the same heartbeat.
All hundred thousand strikes compressed into one razor-thin line so sharp it severed the fabric of existence, if only for a moment so brief that reality never noticed the wound.
This was Bairan's peak—or perhaps just a glimpse of what he once was. Granted that his memory and technique had fled him like smoke through fingers, yet what remained was enough to reshape the world.
