Rivers of the Night

A howl came from Theron's sword and Wren's. The latter seemed to form a vortex above its head, sucking in the Tribulation Lightning clean as it descended, while the former pulsed with a radiant blue light, churning Runes forming across its surface as it grew to another level.

Runebound Treasure.

The heft of the blade in Theron's hand multiplied several times over.

Another blade fell from the skies, even faster than before, but Theron dodged again, and then again.

'This isn't how you deal with this Tribulation.'

As the ground beneath him shattered in waves of golden light, the city rumbling, Theron knew that he wouldn't be able to survive just by running.

The blades were getting faster, for one. But that was still just a minimal problem for the time being. Theron had a lot more speed to tap into. He hadn't lowered his weight yet, he wasn't in Veinsong, and he still had a second Echo he had not used at all from start to finish.

But this wasn't good enough.

One only needed to observe the sword to know what you were supposed to do.

The Runes falling from above all seemed to be tied with Sword Mana. The swords they formed were the Mandate of the Heavens testing the worthiness of the sword. Unless Theron was able to prove himself a worthy swordsmaster, he wouldn't be able to leave this place alive.

But the problem was… he was no worthy swordsmaster; he was a Water Mage. There was a reason he had pulled away from his battle with Wren to regain an advantage.

He was almost certainly the strongest Water Mancer beneath Gold Mancy now—he had the confidence to say that.

His sword and dagger were just petty tricks in comparison, and though he might usually try to train them, when he was in a time crunch like this one, using them was a waste of time.

The only reason he spent so much time training them to begin with was because being one-dimensional in this world was how you died a quicker death. But as he progressed, he could feel his blade skills falling further and further behind his Water Mancy.

He had breakthroughs in Water Mana control all the time, whether it was his time with Dean Pennel, or in the library when he found the secret to raising and lowering the temperature of his Water Mana.

But his blade itself? Aside from a perfunctory ability to use them somewhat like his water, he didn't understand it much at all.

His Water Resonance Blade Art hadn't had much progress since Bronze Mancy, and that wasn't for lack of trying. He had talent in many areas, but this was clearly not one of them.

And yet, now he was being forced to face that.

It should have been enough for him to lose his mind to anger, to feel the weight of the unfairness of it all. He had already been through so much, and he had prepared so much—why was it that this could ruin things at the final moment?

He deserved so much more because he had put so much more work in. Why was it that this world could just decide to turn his life upside down whenever it felt like it?

It was absolutely infuriating.

These thoughts never crossed Theron's mind. In fact, his eyes, still closed, only had a calm chilliness to them. Every breath came with another exhale of frigid frost, as though his mind itself was being cooled—belying the raging heat of his blood.

His bloodline refused to allow him to take a single step back. As the drizzling rain became a torrential downpour, it seemed to be reminding him of something.

Even when opening its maw to unleash its rage, the Mandate of the Heavens still had to show grace to the rain.

Chi.

Theron's eyes flashed open, his blade descending with the cadence of a raging torrent, the rain pelting down from above roaring in unison.

BANG!

His blade and the descending sword of gold collided. His wrist rattled, nearly shattering on impact, and he was sent flying backward.

His feet skidded along the ground, digging up deep trenches as Runes flickered and cut into him. His robes were shredded to ribbons, and blood began to pool down his skin.

But he had already closed his eyes once more, feeling something, sensing it.

His bloodline truly didn't care. Even if this had been a Tribulation of Earth, it would have wanted him to find a way to overcome it. And that seemed to be the essence of it—an essence that Theron hadn't been able to feel as clearly until this very moment.

To use water to overcome everything, to treat water as though it was the lifeblood of the world… and that was because it was.

But… Theron's overly analytical mind saw something else.

When Tribulation Clouds accumulated, it was anchored to a piece of the Earth, the howling of Winds picked up, sparking Lightning took shape…

It almost felt that no matter the Element, you could pick and choose one to reflect the desire you wanted. It was just a matter of which doctrine you followed the most.

On the one path, there was blindly believing that Water Mana stood above all the others.

On the other path, there was an understanding that all Elements played an important role in the manifestation of the Mandate of the Heavens, and that Water was just one of many.

But was the latter comprehension enough? Was blind faith what you really needed to be the strongest of the strong? Was it that arrogance that all cultivators needed to stand at the pinnacle of the world?

Theron's eyes flashed open again, his sword descending in a mighty torrent.

BANG!

He was sent flying once more, this time leaving his feet as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. He rolled across the ground, barely stopping in time to stand to his feet for the next.

His eyes, however… remained the exact same.

He didn't need blind faith.

He would become strong not because Water was the strongest path, but because it would be the strongest path when controlled by him.

A radiant glow came from Theron's irises.