Strongest Sword God: I Can Cut Through Anything

At first, only a faint swirl of wind surrounded Melly, so soft it was almost inaudible, like the quiet breath of nature that refused to disturb the calm of morning.

Strands of her hair lifted gently, following the slow spiral of air encircling her small body. Her dress rippled lightly, as if it moved in rhythm with the world's own breathing. Dry leaves around her began to rise one by one, joining the slow, mesmerizing dance.

Then droplets of water appeared, condensing from the morning air, weightless and clear as crystal. They orbited around her in a slow, graceful motion, catching the sunlight and scattering it in delicate glimmers, like fragments of a dream made of light.

And then something else appeared.

Faint sparks of lightning, nearly invisible, wove themselves between the spirals of air and water. Tiny threads of electricity spread through the air, drawing silver lines that wrapped Melly in an unseen field. There was no thunder, no smell of burning, only a subtle vibration, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Wind. Water. Lightning.

Three elements, dancing around a little girl who hadn't even opened her eyes.

It looked like a living painting—impossible, yet completely real.

Riven stood frozen.

His breath caught.

His heartbeat quickened.

Beside him, Lyanna Rathsture was silent. Her expression was hard to read—eyes narrowed, jaw tense, her fan gripped tightly but unopened.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

All that filled the air was awe and a touch of fear.

.

.

.

Behind heavy closed doors, Lord Rathsture's study smelled of parchment, cinnamon, and the faint smoke of the dying fire. There sat Queen Ashtoria, upright and composed, speaking with the head of House Rathsture about a matter that had lingered in her mind since the very first day.

The dragon.

Fresh reports were scattered across the desk, some still warm from the courier's hand. The writing on them was cold and factual:

Five villages. One city. All turned to ash.

Ashtoria read in silence. Her eyes didn't move, but when she finally spoke, her voice was low and sharp. "It's gone this far?"

Lord Rathsture bowed slightly, swallowing the guilt that pressed in his throat. "We believe the dragon is moving toward the Vathar Mountains. Scout units have been dispatched."

But his words faded into a distant hum in Ashtoria's ears.

Her thoughts had drifted, back to that day. The day she saw Riven lying broken and bloodied after the beast tide the dragon had caused. She'd wanted to slay the creature right then for daring to harm what was hers. But when she heard Riven's heartbeat faltering, she'd abandoned the chase to take him to the nearest city instead.

And she didn't regret it.

She ordered Lord Rathsture to keep her informed about the dragon's movements. If the creature ever drew close to Glimfell, she would hunt it herself, and finish what she started.

They also discussed the reason she hadn't yet returned to the capital. She would remain at the Rathsture estate for several days more.

Once the meeting ended, she rose and left without another word. Her low-heeled shoes barely whispered against the carpet, every step filled with a grace that disguised the storm building inside her chest.

Her pace was steady as she walked down the long corridor of the second floor. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating the courtyard below.

That was when she saw them.

Riven.

Standing in the stone courtyard beside a young woman with pale blond hair. The woman was tall, graceful, dressed in noble blue, and she was smiling at him.

A faint smile.

Ashtoria stopped mid-step. The air seemed to grow heavier, pressing down from within.

The feeling came suddenly—an odd warmth spreading in her chest, like water beginning to boil but refusing to overflow. Her gaze locked on the pair below. Her pulse quickened for no rational reason. Her hands curled into fists, not from anger... but something else.

Who was she?

Why was she standing that close?

What were they talking about?

Whispers stirred in her mind, irrational but relentless.

Why is she looking at him that way?

Is he looking back?

She turned away, forcing her mind into calm, but then her eyes caught another sight.

Melly.

Sitting cross-legged beneath a tree, surrounded by swirling wind, floating droplets of water, and soft arcs of lightning.

And in the span of a heartbeat—

Ashtoria vanished.

One moment she was in the corridor, the next she was standing beside Riven, as if she had been there all along.

Riven turned sharply, startled by her sudden appearance. Lyanna instinctively stepped back, her body stiffening as the faint smile on her lips evaporated.

Ashtoria turned her head toward Riven, her expression serene, though something unreadable flickered beneath her calm.

"It seems Melly has unconsciously released her affinity," she said in her usual flat tone.

Riven swallowed hard, still trying to steady his heartbeat after Ashtoria's abrupt arrival. He met the queen's eyes for a moment, then looked toward his sister—still deep in meditation, surrounded by elements that were growing stronger and steadier by the second.

"Really? Wait... does that mean she's already found her affinity?" he asked quietly.

Ashtoria nodded.

Riven watched the leaves spinning without ever touching the ground, the droplets floating endlessly in the air, the flashes of light flickering between the currents of wind. Then he spoke again, his voice hesitant but laced with hope.

"So... what do you think her affinity is?"

Ashtoria's answer was cool and certain, her voice sharp as glass. "You'll find out soon enough."

Riven fell silent. His lips parted slightly but no words came. His eyes returned to Melly, searching for the truth hidden in the glow around her.

Lyanna, meanwhile, stood frozen. Her wide eyes betrayed the shock twisting through her mind.

What was she witnessing?

How could a commoner speak so casually—so familiar—with Queen Ashtoria? The same queen nobles whispered about in fear, the one they called ruthless, unpredictable, even insane?

But the Queen showed no anger, no disdain. She stood far too close to him. They looked... comfortable together.

Then Lyanna's gaze drifted back to Melly. The noble girl's lips parted as she whispered, "Wind, water, and lightning..." Her whole body tensed. She took a few hesitant steps forward, barely aware of her own movement.

"T-three affinities?" she stammered. Then, louder, her voice trembling, "Most people only have one. I've heard of a few with two—but three? Does that little girl have three affinities, Your Majesty?"

The words hung in the air.

Ashtoria and Riven both turned toward her at once.

Ashtoria's eyes were cold and unreadable, but there was a quiet pressure in her presence—a weight that prickled against the skin like invisible thorns. She remembered too well how this woman had stood too close to Riven, how she had spoken to him with judgment in her tone, as if he didn't belong here.

Lyanna's confidence drained away. Her throat went dry. She lowered her head and spoke in the softest voice she could manage. "Forgive me for raising my voice, Your Majesty... but if I may ask, do you believe that child truly has three affinities?"

Riven glanced at her and sighed inwardly.

One look from this woman, and a noble's pride crumbles like smoke.

Ashtoria turned her gaze back to Melly. She didn't answer right away.

"You'll see soon enough," she said coldly.

Lyanna froze, unsure if that was an answer, a warning, or both.

All three of them looked again at Melly.

The wind spun faster. The water coiled into spirals of glimmering light. Electricity curved gently through the air, forming an elegant ring around her as if the elements themselves had chosen her as their center.

Then the little girl opened her eyes.