Heavenly Archmage

Chapter 7: Ash and Oath

"Go," the man in blue rasped, his voice thick with blood and breathlessness. "They're after me, not you. Run while you can."

Yeon Arin tilted his head slightly as the red-robed martial artists recovered from their earlier hesitation and began circling again, their faces twisted with renewed fury. The blue-robed martial artist stumbled to his feet, sword trembling in his hand as he positioned himself in front of Arin as if shielding him.

"Fool," the scarred leader snarled with contempt. "You think one dying sword can stop us?"

The blue-robed man raised his blade in defiance. "If I fall, I fall standing."

Arin said nothing, his eyes moving once across the formation of enemies—their footwork, the minor gaps in their stance, the greed pulsing through their Ki. It was inefficient and unrefined, a slaughter disguised as a duel.

So much noise for so little purpose.

The red-robed martial artists lunged. Their leader's blade sliced through the air straight toward Arin's throat while the blue-robed man shouted and pushed forward to block the strike. Sparks scattered as metal met metal, the sound harsh and sharp. The force of impact drove both men backward, but Arin remained unmoved. The sword tip stopped an inch from his skin.

He sighed softly. "You should not have done that."

The assassins blinked, unsure whether he had spoken to them or to the man who tried to protect him. The scarred leader spat. "You talk big for a boy. Let's see you scream."

He swung again but the blade never reached its mark. It simply stopped mid-arc and never descended.

ARCANE DISRUPTION.

The world turned silent. Light rippled outward from Arin's body in a pale, colorless wave that seemed to bend reality itself. The first martial artist's sword shattered mid-swing, fragments dissolving into gray dust before touching the ground. The second man's step faltered as blood poured from his nose and ears while his Ki veins collapsed inward. A third tried to retreat but invisible pressure seized him by the throat and lifted him from the ground.

Too fragile. These bodies cannot endure the smallest whisper of true mana.

"Impossible..." the leader gasped, stumbling backward. "What kind of martial art—"

"Not martial art," Arin replied, his voice calm and detached. "Magic."

He raised one hand and the air shimmered faintly between his fingers while sigils formed in silence.

ARCANE PULSE – FRACTURE VEIL.

Reality split for an instant. Every red-robed body froze, eyes wide, and then crumbled into fine ash carried away by the wind. The alley fell quiet again, save for the ragged breathing of the blue-robed survivor and the scent of scorched Ki lingering faintly in the air.

Arin exhaled once, slow and even, then turned away. His cloak brushed through the settling dust.

A waste of time. I should not have intervened.

Behind him, a voice called out weakly. "Wait."

He paused. The blue-robed man staggered toward him, sword dragging on the ground while his eyes were wide with disbelief and exhaustion. "Who... who are you?"

Arin looked back, his expression unreadable. "No one worth remembering."

The man swallowed hard. "You killed them all... with just a wave of your hand. That wasn't Ki. That wasn't any form I've ever seen."

"You are correct," Arin said quietly. "It was not Ki."

"Then what was it? What kind of cultivation uses such power?"

Arin turned fully, his gaze distant as if the question itself were beneath curiosity. "Something older than your sects. Something your Alliance could not understand even if I showed them."

The man's grip tightened around his sword. He fell to his knees, half from fatigue and half from reverence. "If you can wield such strength... then you must have a purpose."

"I do," Arin said. "But it is mine alone."

For a moment neither spoke. The alley was silent except for the faint rustle of wind through ashes. The blue-robed man lowered his head. "Then... help me."

Arin's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I know I'm nothing to you," the man said, voice trembling, "but my sect is dying. We've been betrayed by those who pretend to be righteous. If you lend me your strength, I'll give you anything in return. My loyalty, my sword, my life."

Arin studied him with cold calculation. The man's Ki flickered weak and unstable, but honest. It reminded him of what his own disciples once looked like before the flames consumed everything.

He stepped closer until the shadow of his cloak fell across the kneeling warrior. "Anything?"

The man nodded without hesitation. "Anything."

Arin looked down, his expression calm and eyes glinting faintly with cold light. "Be careful what you offer."