Chapter 190 Fitran Vs Shigure Katsuhiro (5)
Shigure's gaze sharpened, his focus intensifying as if the very tip of his sword could slice through the suffocating darkness that enveloped him. Like a predator uncoiling to seize its quarry, he lowered the Ame-no-Nuhuko spear with deliberate grace, the cold metal striking the damp earth with a resonant thud that echoed through the night. With a fluid motion, he raised the Totsuka no Tsurugi above his head, its blade shimmering in the dim light like a celestial star streaking through a still sky. In that moment, the atmosphere around him metamorphosed dramatically. A misty aura, akin to the gentle caress of autumn rain, unfurled throughout the forest, infusing the air with an enchanting ambiance. The vibrating energy enveloped him, weaving through the very fabric of reality—shadows and light intertwined in a captivating dance, creating an illusion that ensnared the senses of all who gazed upon it.
Fitran felt it—a presence that surpassed the boundaries of mere swordsmanship. "This is not just swordsmanship—this is a ritual." Each heartbeat resonated with a deep, primal power, as if the world itself reverberated in magnificence alongside the incantation he intoned.
"Oh spirit of the heavens dancing above the Amatsu mountains..."
"Lend me your will at the edge of my blade."
"For what I will cleave is not flesh, but possibility itself."
"Amatsukami no Retsu: Tatsumaki Shōkyaku (烈風焼却)"
(Falling from the Heavens: The Annihilating Storm)
—One step, united in grandeur—
—One deep breath, like preparing to face an unrelenting tempest. Shigure's entire being quivered, synchronizing perfectly with the raw power of nature; his heartbeat pulsed in harmony with the deafening roar of the raging wind.
Totsuka no Tsurugi transformed with astonishing magic, morphing into a weapon of epic proportions. Its blade elongated, a shimmering shard of the moon, radiating a brilliant light while enveloped in a whirlwind of thunder and ethereal blue flames from another dimension—where heaven and hell seemed to converge at the weapon's glimmering tip. The air around it compressed violently, unleashing a thunderous sound, reminiscent of ancient drums reverberating through the very core of one's soul. Beneath it, the ground began to melt, as thick fog billowed upward, and ripples from the lake crawled skyward, crafting a distorted landscape—like a living painting flowing without bounds.
In an instant, Shigure vanished, not merely propelled by extraordinary speed, but bolstered by his technique of briefly leaping through time. He reappeared elsewhere, as if time itself held no authority over him—piercing Fitran from a future that had yet to unfold, a bone-chilling sensation creeping down his spine.