The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Whoooooooossh!

The Lizakh shade blinked several times as he watched the confrontation in front of him continue to develop. He could not remember his name or family, just that he studied the Grand Pattern and longed for nothing more than to climb to the summit. However, watching this black-haired human utilize his strike to defeat the guardian of the ninth platform, he felt the significance of the moment carved onto his soul.

He could barely breathe; he couldn’t stop trembling. And the fact that the human copied his strike-

His body is becoming a conduit to the Grand Pattern directly, The shade licked his lips, the sensation tingling and real. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such a sensation. The human twisted rapidly in front of him, bringing his attack spiraling to meet the guardian’s deflection palms. The air churned around the attack, applying increasing amounts of pressure in the surrounding space, even before the attack landed. Is he truly like that monstrous first guardian? He walked down the path of image physicalizations and improving the power of his body?

Whooooosh!

After a long moment of the two methods of using the Grand Pattern grinding against one another, the guardian’s deflection finally pushed the drilling attack to the side. The palm attack hit the golden pillar and stopped without any suspense. However, the powerful winds curled around the outside and then spun back to join the challenger's body. His body twisted without needing to recover between strikes. His palm lashed out again as if manipulating the Grand Pattern and then unleashing it was simplicity itself.

Sweat was coursing down the long-haired shade’s face. Its aggrieved expression remained as its hands continued to trace wheels, but now there was a desperation that gave the Lizakh shade a deep and satisfying burst of catharsis. Hm, I expected you to struggle and fail to progress after enduring my Seven Strikes- err, Seven Deaths, One Strike, but watching you torture the other guardians isn’t a bad outcome.

More wind spiraled together, becoming a constant slipstream around the confrontation. The force the challenger wielded coiled around him like a serpent. Seeing him like this, steadily accumulating more power, made the Lizakh guardian shiver. He had assumed the storm the challenger summoned against him was some profound technique previously, but now he understood that it wasn’t such a fragile thing.

There was no core he could have struck. There was no weakness. The challenger’s greatest weapon was his powerful body. Right now he was just experimenting with new ways to use his physical prowess. The guardians of the Fifth Step became whet stones to improve himself.

With more power came more speed. Palm strike, deflection. Palm strike, deflection. The call and response was predictable, but as the challenger gathered more force the balance shifted. He applied so much pressure that the long-haired shade could only stumble backward to avoid being directly blasted away. This made the guardian even more desperate because if he was pushed too far, he would be out of range of a golden pillar.

But the challenger’s speed left him with no time to recover. The guardian scrambled backward and tried to reposition himself, but the palm strikes didn’t cease. With those familiar spinning motions that had long frustrated the Lizakh, the guardian pushed the strikes away from its body. However, it couldn’t avoid letting those attacks disperse themselves in the air. And when the golden pillars didn’t absorb their force-

Whooooooooooosh. WHOOOOOOSH. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

Crack!

It took three strikes of the forcefully curling back to within the challenger's body before the air around his arm spun so quickly that it distorted the Lizakh’s view. And when that powerful arm impacted the deflection circle, it shattered that pattern to pieces. The palm strike landed on the guardian's chest after blasting its way forward.

Instantly, the guardian was tossed backward. It bounced of the ground and rolled until it rag-dolled into one of the golden pillars. Panting, the guardian pushed itself up onto its hands and knees. Its hair pooled on the ground around him. “Ah. I surrender. No need to continue.”

For a long second, the challenger looked at the guardian with hungry eyes that blazed hot and emerald. The Lizakh shade felt a chill suffuse his body even though it wasn’t on the receiving end of that intense look. Is this challenger going to refuse to back down? Can his palms… even kill guardians?

However, that light soon dimmed. The challenger reached up and slapped his cheeks. Then he turned and walked toward the staircase that would lead up to the next platform. His face covered in a wide smile, the Lizakh walked over to his fellow guardian. “Ah, to think that my first and most talented disciple would improve so quickly… well, you didn’t provide much of a challenge. It does a heart good to see a disciple prosper-”

“Disciple?” The other guardian pushed its long hair out of its face with its hand. Then he struggled to his feet and hobbled after the challenger. The mark of a palm remained imprinted on his side. Yet his expression remained morose. “How can he be your disciple? If anything, you are his disciple.”

“Don’t be foolish. I came up with that technique first,” The Lizakh responded.

The other guardian snorted. “But he does it better.”

To that, the Lizakh could think of nothing to say.

****

D’min watched with a tight expression as Claudette clashed against Charlotte Wick and DiOrtho Vant.

Claudette was hunched over, the beautiful woman looking bedraggled and exhausted. Her two hands that gripped her sword trembled. Opposite her, Vant and Wick charged forward, both of their images spreading out to create massive projections in the surrounding space. With a grimace, she slashed her sword upward and unleashed the barest hint of the calamitous storm that existed within her image world.

The freezing winds and chaotic air flows blasted toward the two foes, but Claudette had been engaging in tag team battles for the past several days without any rest. Although she was much more powerful than any of the Ghosthound’s subordinates, her edge had been blunted by practice. Vant’s Ancient Machine Horror buzzed and used a massive rusted saw to slash through the storm. Wick’s Primal Beast unleashed an aura of life that directly overpowered the cold.

Claudette’s eyes narrowed. For a second she was still, then her body blurred. The cursed blade Clarent flashed. Doom rolled forward, Most other individuals couldn’t feel the invisible reverberations of the attack, but D’min saw the edges clearly. Their intimate connection remained, even after the Ghosthound finished refining her Skill.

Vant’s eyes glowed. After rotating in and out of duels against Claudette for so long, his fighting spirit had been raised to its peak. His Ancient Machine Horror buzzed, the sound a curious mixture between an insect swarm and the collapse of an engine. Its body rumbled and began to fold in on itself until it became the barred edge of a blade, covered in jagged metal protrusions. This form blazed forward and cut through the doom Clarent produced.

Despite the strain, Claudette brought her blade around and slashed again. The two images impacted each other in a massive concussive tryst. Claudette was vastly more powerful, but Vant’s image was more vigorous.

However, it was Vant’s image that cracked.

In the next moment, Charlotte Wick charged forward. The Primal Beast smashed its massive horns back and forth, pressuring Claudette. Her steps were light as she avoided the strike and then released a freezing field. Her lips tightened as Wick’s natural energy let her resist and strike again.

Claudette had no choice but to raise her blade. Cursed weapon met antlers once, twice, three times. Sparks were thrown in every direction and Claudette stumbled back, but Wick’s image began to dissipate.

Claudette still won.

After coughing for several seconds, Claudette gestured. “Next.”

Vant and Wick moved to the side and made way for Raymund Ballast. Claudette and Vulpine began a high-speed exchange in space, focused more on physical combat than just raw image power.

D’min’s eyes focused on Vant who drifted away. After firming his resolve, he flew over.

“Hm?” The ram demon noticed him immediately and tilted his head to the side. “D’min? Isn’t it your rest time? What are you doing up here?”

“I know, but I can’t just sit still, I want to improve. If I don’t put in more effort…”

I’ll be left behind, D’min thought to himself. And from the meaningful look that Vant gave him, he didn’t need to vocalize that feeling. His determined expression announced it clearly enough.

Vant shook his head and scratched his horns, but still straightened. “Alright, I don’t mind doing some extra sparring, but your image is still pretty weak. Until you decide how you want to improve, there is only so much you can gain from straight combat. Better to spend time working on your foundations.”

D’min clenched his fists. Then he produced his javelin and took a fighting stance. “I know. I know I’m still… far from being enough. But while I was resting, it came to me all at once. The way to combine my different strengths into one. This might not be the perfect image for me, but I cannot afford to wait any longer.”

“Let’s see it then.” Vant flexed his hands. His buzzing, multi-faceted image formed behind him.

D’min nodded slowly, a strange energy beginning to swirl around him. Following his instincts, he brought out fire and led it down those complicated paths. Something ancient and pure began to burn within him and D'min increased his energy output. As he did so, golden sparks became molten flows of shining fire that orbited his body. “Sun Storm.”

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