Chapter 717: The Grandmaster Kneels

Grandmaster Valoren Aske crossed the glass of the Second Name with four swords hanging from his belt. He looked like a man who started training before the surface had kings, then forgot to stop.

"Four centuries of practice behind me, boy, you arrive in a borrowed coat with a grin," Aske said.

"It isn’t borrowed, I won it at dice," Hajin answered, rolling his shoulders.

Behind the old man, pale nobles crowded the galleries to the rafters, every hand holding a cup. Ibaran sat above them in plain white, pouring himself tea, smiling as if the floor was his.

"Remember the rule, Hajin, you may not touch my throne or the stair beneath it," Ibaran called, mild as milk.

"Wouldn’t dream of it, your Majesty."

Juna’s howl cut through the polite murmuring, loud enough to make three nobles spill their wine.

"Bleed on purpose and I will bite you myself!"

Aria’s cyan line steadied at the edge of Hajin’s vision, a thin glimmer drawn very tight. Her glowing text pressed against his sight, although she would never admit she was holding on.

"Be careful, his blades are not entirely honest," Aria said, her voice low inside his head.

’Four swords, a court full of liars, so I read the swords and ignore the court.’

Aske drew Spring, a green blade smelling of wet grass, leaving the other three at his hip. He flicked it once through the air, which went soft as if the world remembered being born.

"Four Quiet Seasons," the old man murmured, "my gift to you, you will not hear a single one."

Hajin slid his left hand into his pocket, wearing the easy contempt of an alley fighter. He kept the right hand free, curling his fingers in an invitation older than any court.

"Sunlight in a bucket, that is what you are, a splash of light that thinks it is the sun," Aske sneered.

"Then come and spill me, old man."

Aske moved first, parting Hajin’s left sleeve with the opening cut before he saw any blade. Summer followed in red, kissing a hot line across his ribs that hurt a breath late.

[Divine Eye]

[Tell not found]

[Cuts taken: 2 of 4]

"Autumn," Aske said, a brown blade dragging a dull graze down Hajin’s calf, "falls and takes what it likes."

Cold opened along Hajin’s thigh as Winter’s frost-blue edge unbirthed a long strip of his trousers. Blood ran warm down his shin while the court applauded politely, gloved hands just barely touching.

"That was four, I counted four," a noble whispered behind the rail.

"Your pulse is climbing at a dangerous rate, Hajin," Aria whispered, her voice thin.

’He isn’t trying to kill me, he’s grading me, which is worse.’

"I know, I’m kind of enjoying it."

"Your enjoyment is noted and strongly disapproved of," Aria hissed, her text jittering anxiously.

The old man lowered his swords, calm as a farmer finishing his last row of the day. His face held no malice, only the dull patience of a man settling a very old debt.

"That was the first round, you spent it pretending," Aske said, "will you spend the second the same way?"

"No, old man, I’m done being polite."

Hajin pulled his left hand free, the Sun-Chain unspooling from his wrist with a long gold rustle. It lit the glass beneath his feet like a sunrise rising through water, silencing every single gallery.

"So the boy has teeth after all," Aske said, tilting his head.

He called each form aloud, the Chain snapping out as Lash, then stiffening into a spear called Lance. Coil wrapped his forearm in gold links, while Dawn Wall spread across his chest like a rising shield.

"Four forms in four breaths, boy, that is not nothing," Aske admitted, eyebrows lifting a finger’s width.

"That sword is lying, third from the left, the Autumn blade is a decoy!" Aria cried.

"Third from the left, got it."

The Divine Eye opened in his right pupil, turning toward the dark like a lamp on a swivel. Every cut Aske threw now showed as a thin pale thread, wavering a heartbeat before the steel arrived.

[Divine Eye]

[Tell found: third sword]

[Decoy confirmed]

"Summer next, he is committing his weight to your right side!" Aria called.

Hajin stepped through the thread of Autumn, ignoring the decoy while he caught Summer on the Wall. The shield rang like a struck gong as the red edge skidded across it, trailing bright sparks.

"Fine eyes, boy," Aske said, almost admiring.

"Yours aren’t bad either, you just blink too slowly."

Coil snapped around Spring’s blade, locking the green steel in a tight cage of gold links. Aske twisted his wrist, unbirthing three links of the cage before Hajin could haul it taut.

"He’s unmaking my chain one link at a time, that’s new," he grunted, hauling back.

"Then do not let him finish the sentence, Winter is his next cut," Aria said.

The Lance shot out in a bright line, forcing Aske to turn it aside with Winter’s flat. Frost sparkled where the two met, handing Hajin the half step he needed to snap the Lash.

"Your pulse has exceeded my estimates, so kindly do not die," Aria muttered, her cyan line tightening.

"I’m not planning to, it would be bad manners."

Aske’s blades flickered into a pattern no mortal eye could ever follow, all four seasons turning at once. For one moment Hajin glimpsed the entire shape of the old man’s art, a wheel without a center.

"Everything he owns is moving together, the pattern has no gap in it," Aria warned.

The Lash cracked across Aske’s belt, severing the cord of Autumn’s scabbard so the brown blade fell. The old man glanced down, then up, smiling for once like a swordsman instead of a lecturer.

"Nobody has touched that cord in two hundred years, boy," Aske said, almost laughing.

"Then it was overdue, wasn’t it, old man?"

Hajin flicked the Chain back to his wrist, "You called me sunlight in a bucket, old man, but this bucket leaks right through your guard."

Aske raised Winter slowly, "Winter is patient, boy, it waits for you to bleed out of your own cleverness."

"You’ve got a name for that, haven’t you?" he shouted, backing across the glass.

"Frozen Winter Unborn," Aske said, almost kindly, "it ends the fight before you were born into it."

"The fourth sword is—" Aria screamed.

In the galleries, Vella’s cup stopped halfway to her lips, her calm face going white as paper.

The wheel closed around him in a flash of white, one edge slipping through the Dawn Wall. It kissed his shoulder with a line of cold, making Aria cry out loud inside his skull.

"You are dripping on my display... again," Aria said, deadpan despite her shaking voice.

’Every cut shows as a thread now, but that fourth sword has no thread at all.’

"You... are very good at this, old man," Hajin panted, blood dripping from his torn sleeve onto the glass.

Aske slammed the last sword into the glass, cracks racing outward like frost across a window. He leaned on the hilt with both hands, a patient teacher waiting for his student’s answer.

"Show me the Divine Eye, boy," he said, "I want to see if it blinks."