Reaper of the Martial World

Book 13: Chapter 27: Quintessence

Dyon’s scythe weaved in and out of attacking and defensive positions as though a rotating blade. It twirled around his palms and wrists with a flexibility that exceeded its rigid body.

Compared to his 109th lifetime, his skill was on a complete other level. Even despite never having used a scythe in his life before this, his foundation in wielding weapons was beyond what anyone could imagine. How many times had he discarded a weapon he had reached the top with, only to choose another and build himself back up once again?

He tread along the path of the sword, the saber, the spear, the rod, the bow, the knife, the ax… He had touched upon the profundities of so many that he was an enigmatic existence no matter which was being spoken about.

Tapping into this knowledge, his pace of progress with the scythe was blinding.

Above him, the Soul Tome floated, wafting out with beautiful pleasing yellow lights every so often.

“We’ll call this [Disguised Gale]… Call this one [Hidden Depths]…. And this one, name it [Last Call]…”

Every time Dyon’s indifferent voice fell, the movement of his scythe would change that another glow would light the tome as it flipped to a new page.

First his scythe seemed to blend into the air, leaving a faint trail of grey fog in its wake. Even with it flickering before Aritizia’s eyes, she found it hard to grasp.

Despite this, her palm struck out, calmly deflecting it. But, with each parry, the pressure mounted on her. It felt like Dyon was growing more skilled with each passing moment, slowly

increasing the gravity around her until her knees grew weak.

But, just when it seemed that she would be forced into a corner, the atmosphere changed once again.

This time, the movement of Dyon’s scythe became ethereal. No, that wasn’t how it should be described. It was very real. It was right before her eyes and carried a ‘mystery’ so simple that it felt as though she could reach out and touch it. Yet, whenever she tried, it would pull back just that little bit more, causing her to have to reach further and further, only to never touch upon the goal she was looking for in the first place.

The blade of the scythe no longer hid in the shadows. Aritzia’s palm continued to descend, but every time she blocked a strike, her arm would shudder.

Toward this, her beautiful eyes couldn’t help but tremble slightly. She was certain that her strength was still beyond Dyon’s. Not only was it still beyond, she felt that it was by an unimaginable margin. She couldn’t for the life of her understand why it was that despite their apparent gap, their collisions seemed unable to decide a winner or a loser.

The pressure continued to mount. As though following a pattern, strikes that had been easy to parry in the beginning became more and more enigmatic.

After several exchanges that lasted no more than a couple breaths of time, Aritzia finally understood. Every time Dyon sent an attack forward, she would subconsciously react with what she felt was the perfect amount of strength. However, somehow, that strength would always fall short by a small margin, causing her to be on the losing end.

Once again, just when she was about to be forced into a corner, Dyon’s movements suddenly changed.

This time, his attack frequency slowed to a crawl. Despite the speed of the attack remaining the same, it was as though Dyon had suddenly decided to pour his everything into single strikes instead of trying to send out combinations. His style had suddenly become eerily reminiscent of someone using a weapon far too heavy for them.

Yet, with this heaviness came an inescapable, suffocating experience. It felt as though the world itself was collapsing atop her head, drowning her out.

Despite her frequency of attack not dropping the way Dyon’s had, she could somehow only attack when Dyon attacked. If she didn’t take the same amount of time to prepare her next

strike as Dyon did, she could tell that she would be blown away without suspense.

“Ha…”

Artzia couldn’t stop her own laughter. Even though she wasn’t injured in the slightest, she felt a deep sense of respect, the kind that burrowed deep into her soul.

Dyon continued to name off techniques. Each time, his style would change again, applying a cycle of pressure onto Aritzia.

How could she not understand what was happening by now? Her First Brother was actually creating new techniques as he fought, filling the pages of the Soul Tome with an all-new doctrine. Maybe if he survived today, the nine ancient weapons would gain a tenth companion, yet he had forged this path all on his own and seemingly… without much effort.

Realizing this, let alone despair, Aritzia didn’t even frown. Her eyes glittered with the same battle intent Dyon’s own gained when he stepped on the battlefield. Her ample chest swelled as she straightened her back like a mighty warrior.

“My First Brother indeed…! In that case, I will no longer hold back!”

In truth, though Aritzia very much respected her First Brother, the fact of the matter was that he had reincarnated. He didn’t have his former strength. However, she decided to battle him because while she was currently being suppressed by the Heavens, he was not. Like this, she felt it was fair.

But, even then, she still subconsciously held back some of her strength. Maybe in some ways, she didn’t want to see the undefeatable legend that was her First Brother come crashing down

here at her hands despite the words she had spoken previously.

Her previous thoughts were not frivolous. She really had come to the mortal plane to exact revenge for her First Brother. Even if she would kill him today, the place he held in her heart was not small.

But now, she had no reservations. If she continued to hold back, instead of protecting the legend that was her First Brother, she would be tarnishing him instead. In that case…

BANG!

An overwhelming pressure shot from her body. Golden qi wiggled around her body as though the tendrils of a fiery sun.

The battle between two Peak Immortal Gods could rage on for months, years, decades, even. However, when one reaches a certain point in

strength, maybe only several moments are necessary to decide a victor.

Unfortunately, Dyon no longer had that level of strength. And, his Junior Sister, even after awakening to her true strength, was still inferior to his true peak, a truth she seemed to still be oblivious to.

Deciding this battle in a short time for them was an impossibility…

“[Infinite Palm].”

Aritzia’s delicate voice entered Dyon’s ears, a single dainty palm pushing slowly through the air. However, this singular palm carried the same momentum as Dyon’s recently created [Last Call]. It felt as though it carried the pressure of a world.

Dyon’s fighting intent blazed as well. He swung his scythe forward in a simple strike that

combined everything of his recently created techniques.

BANG!

Their first collision was slow beyond compare. It felt as though they were each struggling against the pressure of the other’s strike, walking through a wall of wind to reach their destination.

Their steps couldn’t be paused, the light in their gazes only growing more and more furious with each passing moment.

The instant a small palm met the blade of a scythe, it was as though all the sound in the world had been sucked into a single point, unable to escape the singularity and painting the illusion that not a single thing had happened.

Then, it began.

Their slow strikes suddenly accelerated.

To one side, there was a blazing sun. Only every so often would one catch the profundity of a palm that seemed to slow one’s concept of time, leaving one completely engrossed in its mysteries.

On the other, there was an abyss of darkness. From within it, a rainbow chain and scythe would occasionally snake outward, meeting the profundities of the palms with an overwhelming simplicity. It almost felt like watching a toddler practice their first set of martial techniques, putting all their effort forward and just barely coming to a point of being able to imitate their seniors.

Yet, these simple strikes seemed to carry the weight of the world.

However, as time went on, it really did seem like it was impossible to meet simplicity with

complexity. The palms were simply too overwhelming.

It was impossible to tell when their exchange of strikes seemed to always take center stage, but a world had long since appeared around them.

When one looked at this world, it seemed obvious why one would avoid looking at it. Even a simple glance toward an ordinary flower would leave one with a splitting headache as though their souls had been drained in that very moment.

It felt as though too much information was coming all at once without any reprieve.

How could one even battle in such an environment? Battles required calm calculation, thinking tens of steps ahead when your opponent might not even be able to touch a single step. But, in such a world, let alone doing

so, it felt like it was impossible to even stay in the moment.

This was none other than Aritzia’s Origin Source. Unlike the other Ancestors, she seemed to ignore Dyon’s suppression of her completely, summoning it as she pleased. However, it also seemed that she hadn’t followed Dyon’s advice at all.

When Dyon still had his memories sealed, he had seen this world once before. His immediate reaction was that it was far too complex. He felt that an Origin Source shouldn’t be like this.

Yet, instead of making it more simple… It seemed that after her breakthrough, Aritzia had made it even more complex. If the Dyon of back then stepped into this world, he wouldn’t even be able to glance around before directly falling into a coma.

It was as though she was speaking via her own actions. She would follow a different path than Dyon…

Dyon chose friends and family. She chose power.

Dyon chose balance and harmony. She chose chaos.

Dyon chose the ultimate simplicity. Well… she chose the pinnacle of complexity.

The effect on Dyon was not small. He felt that his soul, his greatest strength, was greatly slowed. It felt that sweeping his Divine Sense over this world drained his Mental Energy away at a speed that was impossible to accept. It was practically the perfect counter to him.

This was the true reason he was suddenly slowly approaching the losing end of the battle. His soul seemed sluggish and tired, making it more and more difficult to create new techniques to integrate into his [One Above All] doctrine.

If another person had been in this situation, maybe they would start to doubt themselves. But, for Dyon, the excitement in his eye only grew. Even as bloody wounds opened across his body and crimson fell from his lips, the light in his eyes didn’t fade for even a moment.

It had been too long since he met someone with a comprehension of the Dao on his level. Even if there were those who were stronger than him in the past, it was only so. Dyon still felt it was no issue to defeat them simply because he was always confident in his way of doing things.

Who could say that his Junior Sister’s path wasn’t better than his own? The martial way tended to go through cycles of complexity and simplicity. Who knew if Aritzia’s complexity wasn’t the next cycle after his own simplicity?

If another had this thought, maybe they would try to find a way forward immediately. But, Dyon

didn’t spare a thought toward this for even a single moment.

Dyon’s way of simplicity wasn’t as meaningless as following the path the martial way led him by. He didn’t like others controlling him, least of all this ‘Truth’ everyone else seemed to follow.

The reason he followed this path wasn’t so complex. The reason he took the complex and boiled it down to the simple was because this was how he viewed the world.

To him, nothing was complex, nothing was worth his furrowed brow, nothing was worth his effort.

A pinnacle martial art? Become simple for me. Origin Grade technique? Become simple for me. The Truth? Become simple for me.

Nothing was worthy of blocking his path, nothing was worthy of pausing his steps, nothing was worthy of staining his heart.

Not even this junior sister of his.

Complex Origin Source? Become simple for me.

A roar left Dyon’s lips as he stomped down hard on the greyish black lands beneath his feet.

‘Quintessence…’

A faint whisper caused Dyon’s subconscious to tremble. The last time he had heard this whisper, he had just undone his first seal. Back then, he had almost taken the entire universe with him.

He had lost his mind to the flames of chaos. It came to the point where the only things he could do to regain a faint trace of normality was to speak with his junior sister, a woman he still called The Entity back then.

‘Soul Quintessence…’

Compared to back then, the whispers were far louder.

Just what was the soul exactly? One would think that it was the center of all life, but if that was the case, wouldn’t Dyon’s mortal world have come to an end a long time ago? Why was it that they could survive with all their souls sealed away?

It was clear that the soul was beyond something so simple.

The soul was ultimately a bridge. Most thought it was a bridge to the Heavens. It was it that allowed one to see through the Dao, to begin to comprehend the nature of things, starting from mere Wills and rising up to the point one could form Laws and eventual Origin Sources…

However, Dyon had lived for a very long time. He had seen too many things, comprehended and grasped too many things. He had long since come to the conclusion that this bridge wasn’t as simple as a path to the Heavens.

It was only convenient to call it the Heavens. That thing that Dyon hated and despised so much… putting a name and face on it made it so simple.

He needed something to be mad at, so he turned his hatred toward the Heavens. But the truth was that the Heavens was just an instinctual creature. It had no thoughts and emotions of its own. Its only goal was to evolve the creatures and humans under its care to reach the peak of the world. As for the reason why… who knows?

This was why Dyon was so enraged when he battled Death. Seeing the thing he hated so much walk around like a clown, not even having a mind of its own, lit a burning fire within his heart.

However, weren’t the Heavens the same? It was quite ironic. Maybe had he met Death in his first life instead of his 109th, it would have taken

Dyon much less time to reach the peak. No, maybe things weren’t so simple as this…

He had in fact met Death before. How else would Conquest, War and Famine be so afraid of him? The issue wasn’t that he hadn’t met Death, but rather that at the time he did, he hadn’t taken Death as seriously as the 109th version of himself had.

What was important was not only meeting Death, but also putting Death on a pedestal… Only then would he realize just how much of a joke it all was.

So what was the soul a bridge to?

The ultimate conclusion Dyon came to was a chance. It was exactly that, a chance. A chance to grasp something higher, to see a taller peak, to see the world as one should.

‘Soul Quintessence…’

The grey land beneath Dyon’s feet increased in size by a fold.

Golden rings lit in his eyes, a halo appearing above his head.

This was the difference between him and the Sapientia. They felt that there was something waiting for them at the top, that there was a lofty throne they needed to snatch away. They felt they just needed to follow a plan laid out before them. Since the world was tending toward Chaos, they too should tend toward Chaos. Only by following the path set by the Heavens could they sit on that throne. This was why they rejected the status quo. Since the Heavens didn’t want to maintain the balance, what was the point?

Aritzia thought this way too, didn’t she? She wanted to sit atop the world. This was the goal she strove for. But, this was never Dyon’s goal.

In Dyon’s mind, nothing was worthy of being ahead of him, this was true. However, he didn’t strive for a throne prepared for him by someone else. He strove for something far greater than that.

He saw a chance. Aritzia saw an opportunity to grasp.

It almost seemed like the same thing. This was where the concept of all Daos leading to the same road originated from. Yet, it was the subtle nuances that made all the difference.

He found it all to be quite funny. All of these people were striving after something the ‘Heavens’ had prepared for them, following a path that the ‘Heavens’ had laid out… Yet this entity they worshipped so much didn’t even exist in the way they thought it did.

“Bring out everything you have, Aritzia. Or else I will cut you down now.”

Aritzia could hardly fathom what she was hearing.

On one side, there was her who seemed refreshed as though she had just finished grooming herself. Yet, across from her, there was her First Brother, beaten to the point he seemed he might collapse at any moment.

Blood flowed from his body, bones stuck out at awkward angles, layers of skin were peeled off… It all left a grotesque sight, one eerily reminiscent of a rotting corpse.

Yet, in the tide of crimson, two blazing orbs of light stood. They were none other than Dyon’s eyes, shimmering with unwavering confidence.

How could he lose here? His junior sister had a goal to achieve, but he had no goal. His sights were beyond a mere goal. So unfathomable they couldn’t be explained by a word so simple.

‘Soul Quintessence…’

It seemed as though he didn’t feel the pain wracking his body at all. His scythe spun in one hand, his chain spinning in another. As though a guardian deity protecting the last line of defense the world had, he stood with his back straight.