Swish!
A sharp gust cut through the air as Devrok swung his sword in a wide, fluid arc.
Each movement flowed into the next with perfect discipline, carrying not just strength, but an intensity that made the wind itself tremble. His breaths were slow, deep—every fiber of his being locked in unnatural focus.
Swish. Swish.
The grass beneath his feet barely rustled despite the raw power behind each swing. Around him, the garden remained silent, as if holding its breath in reverence.
Suddenly, Devrok came to a complete halt. His muscles froze mid-motion, but it wasn't due to fatigue.
It was realization.
"I'm very close..." he muttered under his breath, eyes gleaming with a strange light. "Very close to the first Realm of the Sword..."
The Realm of Oneself.
There were three known realms that every true swordsman aspired to reach, each a monumental leap in mastery.
