The Invincible Young Master

On the other side of the fog, the clash of steel drew closer. Blades rang out in sharp bursts, each strike echoing in every direction as though the mist itself carried the sound.

The roar of soldiers colliding surged and fell like a restless tide, yet no forms could be seen. The fog smothered all sight, leaving only the noise of unseen war.

At one area, Lina stood with eyes closed, her staff rooted firmly into the ground.

From its tip pulsed a faint glow, threads of light unraveling into the mist like strands of a vast, delicate web.

Her eyes were closed. All of her focus poured into the invisible walls binding the battlefield, tracing and unwinding their patterns with relentless patience.

She had known the moment she stepped through the gate, this was not some dormant ancient formation. Its lines had been tampered. That was why she had warned everyone.

But even she had not foreseen how precise the enemy's preparation was. The assailants had been waiting. They knew exactly when and where the groups would appear.

The fog itself split their forces apart with surgical intent, isolating each squad as prey. Now the suppressive field had dulled every person's senses, numbing their instincts, and blinding their perception.

And right not she was focused on breaking the formation. She chased the keystone of the formation, feeling its hidden pulse beneath the suffocating layers of fog.

She could not afford to let her attention waver, not for an instant.

That was when the shadows stirred.

From the mist, faint shapes bled into existence, crawling closer step by silent step.

Fog-born silhouettes sharpened into figures. They carried no sound, no breath, no ripple of intent.

But Lina's eyes stayed shut. She did not move.

The attackers closed in.

Then,

BOOM!

The nearest figure burst apart in a violent spray of mist, torn into vapor before its hand could reach her.

Another collapsed into nothing with a strangled cry, dissolving back into the fog.

Two tall silhouettes had already appeared at Lina's sides, materializing without the faintest sound.

Clad in dark robes, their presence pressed heavy on the air. Their faces were expressionless, and unshaken by the chaos around them.

They were the guards, two of the four handpicked to stand at her side, sent from the academy.

Like immovable pillars, they stood before her, eyes sharp, their gazes piercing the shifting fog.

The mist stirred again, thickening as dozens of silhouettes emerged, their forms tightening into a circle around Lina and her guards.

The guards did not move until the silhouettes were close enough to become a threat.

Then, like lightning splitting the sky, they struck.

The fog recoiled. One guard swept his arm, and three silhouettes shattered into nothingness, scattered back into vapor.

The other also advanced mercilessly, every motion a flawless execution. Any enemy that dared enter his reach was ripped apart, their forms breaking into wisps of mist.

The fog-born attackers swarmed like crashing waves, yet the two robed guards carved through them without pause.

Each strike left no room for resistance; each movement was sharp, and, final.

The very air trembled under the weight of their suppression, and within moments, the ground around Lina was littered with nothing but fading shreds of fog.

They neither looked back at her nor spoke. They did not need to. Protecting her was not duty, it was the marrow of their existence.

Still, the tide did not end. From every corner of the mist, more figures poured in, lunging with silent malice.

Each time they struck, the guards answered with ruthlessly. Strike after strike, blow after blow, their movements were unbroken.

But then, something changed.

One guard halted mid-motion, his stone-like face tilting slightly, as if catching a ripple too faint for mortal senses.

In the next instant, his body blurred. Space bent, and he appeared at Lina's side.

Clank!

A harsh clang split the air, sparks bursting in the fog.

A silhouette had appeared a step from Lina, weapon raised to cleave her down.

Yet before it could strike, the guard's bare hand closed around the blade. The steel shrieked, trembling against his grip, but his hold did not waver.

The guard was about to attack but the figure dissolved into mist, slipping away like water through his fingers.

It reformed at Lina's left, its blade already thrusting forward with impossible speed.

But the guard was faster still, intercepting with inhuman speed.

A low chuckle rippled through the fog, thin and mocking. The shadow darted back, only to lunge from another angle.

Once more, the guard blocked. Again it struck, faster, sharper. Again, he stood in its path.

Strike after strike, the dance repeated, mist and steel flashing in blur after blur. No blow touched Lina.

The laughter grew louder. Not rage. Just amusement and gleeful, as though the silhouette shadow was savoring the game.

The fog-born attacker was savoring every moment. Each strike sharpened his excitement, each perfect interception by the guard fed his thrill.

He never landed a blow, but neither could the guard touch him. The clash had become a flawless stalemate, yet the tension only grew sharper.

Then, as abruptly as it began, the silhouette halted. Its movements stilled, its form drifting out of reach.

The mist wrapped thicker around it, and when it spoke, its voice slid through the fog, low and laced with amusement.

"Impressive," it said. "You can block me every time."

He guessed that there must be some hidden method that lets the guard intercept his strike and movements. Furthermore, the guard's power was hidden.

"I could enjoy this game for a while longer," the silhouette admitted, chuckling. "But… I don't have the time."

The air froze.

Then,

"[Domain]"

The world folded in on itself. The sound of clashing steel and distant cries vanished as if smothered by unseen hands.

Even the faint breeze was gone. Only the fog remained.

All around, afterimages of the silhouette flickered into existence. Dozens, hundreds, shapes moving at once, blurring so fast they seemed to step through reality itself.

At the center, the true silhouette raised arms, pointing at the guard.

And then it moved in a thrusting motion.

Instantly, the guard's chest sank inward with the impact, the strike piercing through the armor.

A gaping hole tore open where his heart should have been, and his body spasmed violently, as if his very essence had been ripped apart.

Before he could collapse, the silhouette's arm swept again in a single, unhurried arc.

Schlk.

The guard's head slipped from his shoulders, falling soundlessly into the mist before landing with a dull thud.