Lyne's jaw clenched, teeth grinding beneath the cold.
The wind howled. Her silence howled louder.
Beads of sweat traced her cheek, even as the frost bit her skin.
There was no fire—only fury.
---
"Hand me the Odachi," she said.
Her voice did not rise.
It dropped—low, steady, sharp.
A blade drawn before sound.
---
Sightless met her gaze.
There was something in her eyes now.
Not rage. Not fear.
Conviction sharpened by hatred.
---
"Remember your oath," he said, quiet but unyielding.
"You swore to use it for justice."
---
Lyne's breath escaped like smoke from firewood.
"The right thing now is to kill that serpent."
Her voice did not shake.
"Its eggs will hatch.
More horrors will slither from its silence.
I won't let them."
---
Sightless sighed—not in defeat, but understanding.
"I won't deny your logic."
He stepped back. "Then wield it.
But only once more—until you've found your stillness again."
---
She took the Odachi.
The forgotten blade shimmered, as if remembering her hands.
---
A whisper rang out:
[Forgotten Slash] — A strike that could cleave mountains.
But its true force unlocks only after ten thousand cuts. [0 / 20,000]
[Forgotten Hellfire] — Flame born from enduring lava's breath.
Only awakens through burning trial. [0 / 2 hours]
[Forgotten Chill] — Ice awakened through deep, drowning silence.
Only earned beneath frozen stillness. [0 / 2 hours]
---
Lyne didn't flinch at the price.
These were not powers granted.
They were powers forged.
---
Without a word, she turned toward the frozen lake.
Sightless followed—watchful, silent, knowing.
Time passed like snowfall—slow, soundless, endless.
Two hours beneath the lake's cold weight.
Two hours of facing herself.
---
When she emerged, the Odachi pulsed with spectral frost.
A forgotten aura coiled around her like mist.
---
Her whisper cracked the silence.
"For two hours, I relived the moment beneath its shadow.
I froze—not in body, but in soul.
And I—I, born of primordial light—let fear speak louder than truth."
---
She turned toward the serpent's lair.
The wind seemed to part before her steps.
---
"No more."
---
Each step forward crushed the snow like an oath.
She carried no hesitation—only purpose.
She was not a girl.
She was not a warrior.
She was reckoning.
And the mountain knew her name.