NOVEL NEXT Chapter 211 – Vince, The Wandering Fist of the North
The mountain winds howled like old spirits, their cries echoing across the scarred valley of Rokuen Plains a desolate land hidden between the borders of the western frontier.
Few ever came here.
Fewer still returned.
And among those who dwelled in this place… were people who rejected Shinrei.
They were the Affinityless, a forgotten branch of humanity that relied not on elemental gifts or spiritual power but on pure martial mastery and the art of Taishin.
The ground cracked faintly under the boot of Master Vince, the Wandering Fist of the North
His tall frame stood against the fading dusk, cloak fluttering with dust and dry wind. His hair a wild mullet streaked with silver caught the sunlight like fire before dusk swallowed it whole.
His presence was silent, yet immovable.
Even without radiating Shinrei, the air around him bent with quiet strength like the calm center of a storm.
He had traveled for days without rest, guided only by Master Isen's command:
"The Shards are not only remnants of the old world, they are seals. Some of the Hollow Nine will seek them. I cannot risk sending an Eclipse Vanguard where the people reject us. They despise Shinrei users. You, Vince… are the only one who can stand among them."
Vince remembered that moment clearly.
He had only nodded and said, "If it's Master's will… I'll go."
And now here he was.
As he descended into the valley, the signs of the settlement came into view wooden walls reinforced with crude stone, smoke rising faintly from torch towers.
Guards stood watch, each holding spears instead of Shinrei blades, their movements precise, every stance a martial one.
They spotted Vince instantly.
"Halt! Identify yourself!"
The lead guard, a scarred man in leather armor, stepped forward. His eyes narrowed scanning Vince's cloak, his bare hands wrapped in worn cloth, the faint insignia of the Taishin Dojo stitched near his shoulder.
Vince didn't flinch.
He bowed his head slightly, voice calm and deep.
"Vince Aran. Wandering Fist of Taishin. I come by request… from Master Isen."
The guard stiffened, that name still carried weight even here. But suspicion lingered.
"Master Isen? The one they call the Blade Sage? He's an affinity wielder. Why would he send you here?"
Vince raised his gaze, his calm eyes like mountain stone.
"Because I am not bound by affinity."
He slowly extended his right hand, faint ripples of pure force danced in the air around his knuckles.
"I wield Taishin. The power born from the body, not from spirit."
The guards exchanged wary glances but their leader finally nodded.
"Then you may enter, Taishin warrior. But know this, no Shinrei users are welcome here. You step out of line, we'll bury you in these mountains."
Vince only smiled faintly.
"That's fair."
The village beyond was small, barely thirty homes, smoke rising gently from clay chimneys.
Yet beneath the surface, Vince could feel it, the disciplined tension in the air, the way every villager's step carried training, like each of them had known combat.
He passed through the central square, where a massive stone tablet stood engraved with ancient symbols, the Mark of the Shard.
Even from a distance, Vince could feel the subtle pulse beneath the ground, a dormant rhythm, faint but alive.
He muttered to himself:
"So Isen was right… The Shard is buried here."
Before he could study it further, an old man approached his steps deliberate, his back straight despite age.
His aura was calm… yet Vince immediately recognized the flow of Taishin within him.
"You're the outsider Master Isen sent?"
The man's voice carried strength, tempered by years of training.
"Yes," Vince said, bowing respectfully.
"I've come to protect the Shard. I heard the Hollow Nine may move soon."
The elder's eyes darkened at the name.
"We've fought off intruders before. We will again. But the Hollow Nine… that name hasn't been spoken here in decades."
Vince crossed his arms, looking toward the mountains.
"Then start speaking it again. Because they're coming."
..
[Later that Night]
The campfire flickered against the walls of an old dojo.
Vince sat cross-legged, his breathing steady every exhale a controlled pulse of Taishin energy.
He whispered quietly to himself, "So this is the mission Master gave me… not just to protect the Shard… but to protect these people."
His eyes softened, remembering Juno, his young disciple.
"That boy… I hope he listens and learns control before I return."
Then, the wind shifted.
Faint footsteps echoed outside the dojo.
But they weren't human.
Vince's eyes snapped open.
His muscles tightened, the ground beneath him cracked as he stood in a single fluid motion.
A whisper rolled through the dark:
"…The Shard of Flesh… found."
Vince's fist clenched.
His Shinrei-less energy began to gather a cyclone of raw force spiraling through his veins.
He stepped into the moonlight, eyes narrowing.
"So they've come…."
As the shadows split like black water, dozens of twisted shapes crawling from the fog.
Their forms were warped, sinew and smoke fused into mockeries of men, their mouths gaping wide with soundless hunger.
"Tsk… another Voidborn!" one of the villagers spat, raising his stone-forged spear.
The torches flickered violently as the ground trembled beneath their steps.
Vince's gaze hardened.
He took a slow, deliberate stance, feet shoulder-width apart, arms loose, body relaxed yet coiled with lethal precision.
Every muscle knew its purpose. Every breath carried intent.
"Everyone, stay behind the barrier," Vince ordered. His voice was calm, low, but the command in it left no room for doubt.
The villagers obeyed, forming a loose perimeter around the central dojo where the Shard of Flesh pulsed faintly beneath the earth.
The first Voidborn lunged, a blur of smoke and claws.
Vince moved once.
A flash, a crack of air.
His fist met the creature's head mid-charge, and the impact shattered it like glass.
The air rippled from the blow, a visible shockwave expanding outward.
"One strike."
He exhaled, lowering his arm. "Still too slow."
But the rest were already moving.
Five, ten, twenty crawling, shrieking, converging like a storm of nightmares.
The villagers braced, fear tightening their throats but Vince simply closed his eyes.
He breathed in.
And then, he moved.
A burst of raw, formless energy exploded outward, invisible yet devastating.
Each step of his form resonated through the ground, every motion creating ripples of compressed air, Taishin made manifest through perfect control.
"Taishin Art— Crimson Cyclone."
His fist blurred, too fast to follow.
Each strike didn't just hit, it erased the Voidborns from existence, their forms scattering like dust before a storm.
Stone cracked.
The wind roared.
And within moments, silence returned.
Only the faint hiss of the dying torches remained.
Vince stood in the center of the carnage, his breath steady, eyes locked on the horizon.
Dark clouds began to gather far beyond the mountains unnatural, pulsing with a faint purple hue.
He muttered, voice grim:
"If the Voidborn reached this place… then the Hollow Nine aren't far behind."
The elder approached, gripping his staff tightly.
"You fought like the old legends… Are you truly without affinity?"
Vince smiled faintly.
"Power isn't about what you're born with."
He looked toward the sky, where lightning briefly flashed within the storm.
"It's about what you build… strike by strike."
He turned toward the villagers.
"Double the guards. The next wave won't be mindless. They're scouting for something… or someone."
A younger villager, bloodied but brave asked, "Then what do we do if they return?"
Vince's expression darkened, his shadow stretching long beneath the moonlight.
"Then we fight until we stop breathing."
He raised his hand, the wind swirling faintly around his knuckles.
"Because that's what the Taishin way means."
To be continue