Merging Perspectives

With just a week remaining before the dungeon outbreak and the ensuing influx of monsters from the Murkwood.

In my previous life, I had been dispatched to the fortress alongside my brothers as part of the mage unit. However, the circumstances surrounding my current situation remained shrouded in uncertainty as to them I was no longer a mage anymore.

While I contemplated the nature of my situation, memories of my past life resurfaced.

Though I had wished to save as many lives as possible, I knew deep down that I was no hero. My actions were guided by a desire to protect others without endangering my own existence, a principle I intended to uphold in this new life as well.

The monsters emerging from the depths of the Murkwood were not the primary concern. Driven by their primal instincts, they would often retreat upon witnessing the swift and formidable response of the county's mages.

However, the true challenge lay in the creatures that originated from the dungeon itself. These abominations were artificially crafted within the dungeon's depths, their origins shrouded in mystery. The experts speculated that they were the handiwork of an entity known as the dungeon core.

Unlike the beasts of the Murkwood, these dungeon-born monstrosities possessed no semblance of sentience. Oblivious to fear or reason, their sole purpose was to kill and consume.

They fought relentlessly, ceaselessly, even if only a single survivor of them remained standing amidst the carnage.

Envisioning the potential scenarios that lay before me, a disquieting thought took hold: the likelihood of being dispatched alongside the knight unit is high. The officials and my family may view this as a chance to eliminate me.

"I have to be prepared."

In this predicament, utilizing my magic in the presence of a multitude was out of the question. Even the employment of first circle spells posed a risk, for lurking amidst the chaos could be powerful entities capable of detecting the presence of Galadriel. Hence, I needed to rely solely on my swordsmanship which I had devoted myself to over the past months.

As for swords….

Having mastered the Forth stance of the Wishmyth Stance, I diligently advanced my training to encompass the subsequent components.

The journey through the remaining stances proved relatively smooth, with one month dedicated to acquiring proficiency in both the First Stance and the Second Stance, followed by another month devoted to mastering the Third Stance. Since then, my focus had been honed on the elusive Fifth Stance—an arduous amalgamation of the preceding techniques.

Months passed in relentless pursuit of the elusive Fifth Stance. Although its mastery had thus far eluded me, I could sense that I stood tantalizingly close to the precipice of achievement. The rhythmic symphony of the blades, coupled with the precise flow of mana, had been established. Now, all that remained was to connect the remaining dots, bridging the final gaps in my understanding.

*****************

Standing in the courtyard, I begun to execute the Wyrmheart Stance techniques, one by one, my sword held firmly in hand.

"Wyrmheart Stance: First Stance," I shouted, unleashing a relentless series of 21 consecutive slashes. Each of these slashes possessed a lethal quality, though I refrained from infusing them with my mana, lest their power cause undue disturbance.

"Wyrmheart Stance: Second Stance"

I proceeded, gracefully executing the defensive manoeuvres outlined in the manual.

As for the Third Stance, I opted not to perform it within the confines of the Wishmyth mansion, for its potency exceeds the bounds of this restricted space.

With utmost focus, I delved into the intricacies of the Fourth Stance, practicing the footwork techniques prescribed. Only when I felt satisfied with my execution did I proceed to the Fifth Stance.

The Fifth Stance, a culmination of offensive slashes, defensive tactics, and lethal footwork, stands as the pinnacle of the Wyrmheart Stance. Eagerly, I continued to wield my sword precisely as instructed within the manual. Yet, just as I prepared for another slash, a subtle mental vibration served as a disquieting reminder of my error, accompanied by a mental notification pinpointing my mistake.

"Damn it, not again!" I exclaimed in frustration. "Why must I adhere so strictly to the prescribed breathing technique when, in the heat of battle, my sword shall be infused with mana? How can such meticulous attention to breath make any discernible difference?" I muttered, vexed by this seemingly trivial detail.

The Fifth Stance is almost complete but the problem is arising from breathing technique.

Without wasting anymore time, I resumed my sword swings, persisting until the evening when I finally achieved success over the Fifth Stance. The source of my previous struggle became clear—

"Looks like I had been careless in regulating the air in my lungs, taking too much air from the atmosphere, causing the atmospheric mana in my lungs to disrupt the prescribed mana rotation. The manual's emphasis on precise breathing technique now made perfect sense."

Eager to put my newfound proficiency to the test, I executed all the parts of the Wyrmheart Stance, including the Third Stance. Naturally, I exercised caution in my mana usage, for the destructive potential of the sword technique could easily lay waste to the entire courtyard. Though seemingly intricate, this sword technique is deceptively simple; the greater the infusion of mana, the deadlier the technique becomes.

"Haha! At last, I have accomplished it. This will surely surprise Galadriel upon her awakening," I exclaimed.

However, my elation was short-lived, as the world before me suddenly twisted and blurred, transporting me to an entirely different location. I found myself standing atop a mountain peak, surrounded by ethereal fog and clouds. In the distance, other majestic mountains adorned with foliage in shades of green, pink, and blue created a breath-taking panorama, bathed in the radiant sunlight.

"What is happening? Could it be a hallucinatory spell?" I pondered, bewildered by the inexplicable turn of events.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

Startled, I turned my gaze towards the source of the sound—a girl, her face shrouded in an enigmatic blur. Her hands, resembling polished jade, wielded a magnificent sword adorned with countless embedded gems. Despite her modest bosom, her movements were unhindered, gracefully displaying her artistic figure, clad in an elegant white dress. Belts strategically positioned on her hands and lower belly ensured her attire did not impede her dexterity. As I observed her expertly swinging the sword, I couldn't help but exclaim,

"It's the Wyrmheart Stance!"

Suddenly, a powerful force tugged at me, causing my transplant body to be drawn towards the girl, seamlessly merging with her form. When my vision returned, I found myself perceiving the world through her eyes.

"What in the world is happening?" I screamed inwardly, perplexed by this bewildering turn of events.

Once again, my view shifted abruptly, and I found myself engaged in combat against a figure whose visage remained obscured. Distinctive horns protruded from his head, giving him an otherworldly appearance. After an arduous battle with him...

Once again, my view shifted, and again I was battling someone. Form here on the cycle continued like this for what seemed like forever.