Chapter 103: Fragments of the Forgotten Blade
The platform pulsed once beneath their hands.
A faint sound like distant chimes echoed through the chamber as light peeled away from the sword fragment floating between Isaac and Sylvalen.
Then—without warning—it shattered into five glowing motes and scattered into the air.
One of them spiraled downward and embedded itself gently into Isaac's chest—not painfully, but with a strange, warm pressure that made him inhale sharply.
The others shot off—into locked chambers, beyond sealed gates, through unseen walls of the tomb.
Gone—but not lost.
Isaac exhaled. "Did it just scatter itself on purpose?"
Sylvalen nodded slowly, watching the lights vanish. "It's leading us. Or testing us. Maybe both."
They turned together toward the chamber wall now glowing with pale script.
"Each fragment holds part of my will,my blade,and the truths I could not leave in words."
"Only when all pieces are gatheredshall the Spiritforge awaken—not as my weapon,but as your own."
Sylvalen read aloud, her voice soft with wonder. "He didn't want to pass down a sword. He wanted to pass down the choice to make one."
Isaac nodded, staring at the script. "Sword mastery wasn't about one style. It was the willingness to grow past fear, past boundaries… even past gods."
A soft rumble echoed beneath their feet.
A new passage opened ahead—two arching pillars of faint blue flame.
They stepped forward, side by side.
"I'm with you," Sylvalen said quietly.
Isaac didn't answer with words—just a glance, steady and sure.
The second chamber was circular and silent.
Black mirrored walls reflected them in every direction.
In the center stood a tall, perfectly polished obsidian mirror.
And inside it—reflections.
Not just of Isaac.
Of Sylvalen, too.
But twisted.
Hardened. Cruel. Arrogant. Afraid.
And then—
The mirror shattered outward, fragments of smoke and steel coalescing into solid forms.
Two figures stepped out.
Each a shadow.
Each a perfect, merciless version of them.
Isaac stared at the reflection of himself—eyes colder, blade gleaming with full confidence.
Sylvalen's double was wreathed in veils of twisting magic, standing tall and proud, radiating disdain.
The shadows spoke in perfect harmony.
"You hold back."
"You choose hesitation."
"You fear what happens if you embrace everything you are."
Sylvalen's jaw tightened. "This is a test of self. Not just yours. Mine too."
Isaac raised his blade, then looked at her.
"Then we fight together."
The shadows lunged.
Isaac's double struck fast—efficient, mechanical, overwhelming. The kind of swordsman he could become if he abandoned caution, empathy, everything except winning.
Isaac dodged, blade humming in his hand.
But he didn't go all out.
He didn't unleash raw force. Didn't crush with overwhelming speed.
He chose restraint.
Because the fight wasn't just about winning.
It was about understanding.
Why he fought.
What he didn't want to become.
"I'm not afraid of power," Isaac said through clenched teeth, deflecting another heavy blow. "I'm afraid of forgetting who I was before I had it."
His double grinned coldly. "Then you'll die as a footnote."
Isaac replied with a calm step forward—and delivered a clean, humble strike that knocked the twin's blade aside.
Not to kill.
To disarm.
To prove he didn't need to be cruel to win.
Beside him, Sylvalen fought with grace.
Her twin was faster—more vicious, more arrogant.
But Sylvalen didn't mimic it.
She flowed. Adjusted. Chose clarity over domination.
"Magic isn't about control," she murmured mid-spin, striking her twin with a pulse of pure moonlight. "It's about connection."
Her double staggered, faded.
Isaac's reflection followed a breath later.
Silence fell.
Two sword fragments descended from above—one glowing silver, the other pale green.
Each flew to them—absorbed not into their blades, but into their hearts.
And then—
Something unlocked.
A whisper moved through Isaac's bones.
A movement pattern.
A stance.
Not a skill—but instinct.
He knew how to strike in ways he hadn't before. He felt a new edge of control, focus, and mastery that hadn't existed a moment ago.
Sylvalen closed her eyes briefly.
Then looked to him. "You didn't fight like I expected."
He shrugged. "Because I wasn't trying to win."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I wanted to learn," he said. "I wanted to prove to myself that I don't need to go all-out to pass."
Sylvalen smiled faintly. "That's why you'll never become like the shadow."
Then she stepped closer, gaze softer.
"And that's why I'm glad I'm doing this with you."
As they moved toward the next chamber, the stone behind them pulsed and closed.
A third flame gate now flickered ahead.
Isaac tightened his grip on the cracked Silverveil blade, which had begun to resonate faintly.
Two fragments down.
Three more to go.
And with every one…
Takeshi's legacy became a little clearer.