Chapter 173: Echoes Between Blades

Clash.

Again.

And again.

Essence met will. Blade met bone. Pressure cracked the chamber floor into spiderwebs of destruction.

Riku's fist drove into Zeru's side—clean, sharp, brutal.

Zeru twisted mid-air and retaliated with a backhand slash, his blade curving unnaturally mid-swing. It scraped Riku's cheek—barely—a single red line against silver skin.

But that one scratch was earned with effort most wouldn't survive.

Zeru flipped backward, landing in a crouch, his breath finally uneven.

Riku stood upright, unmoved. No abilities. No drawn-out techniques.

Just the weight of his raw, perfected strength and speed—refined through suffering, war, and ascension.

"You're not even using anything," Zeru said, eyes narrowing. "No Divine Constructs. No techniques. Nothing but… this."

"This is enough," Riku replied calmly. "But you're still standing. That's not nothing."

Zeru smiled faintly, blood running down the side of his face. "Then let's test it."

He extended both arms.

"Sixth String: Blade Choir."

The floating blade-rings around him sang in unison, each note resonating with a distinct frequency. The chamber shook as dozens—no, hundreds—of razor-thin essence constructs formed in midair, each vibrating, tuned to a different harmonic wavelength.

They all pointed at Riku.

And launched.

Riku didn't blink.

He stepped once—his foot shattered the ground—

And vanished.

The blades collided where he once stood—but he was already in motion.

He moved like thought.

Every time a blade neared him, he redirected it—not with energy, but with momentum. A flick of a wrist, a twist of the hip, a shoulder pivot—he turned a deadly onslaught into a dance of dominion.

Then he reached Zeru again.

A punch came for Zeru's sternum—

He parried it with a sudden essence pulse, the shockwave sending him sliding back before impact.

But not far enough.

Riku was already there, landing a side kick that cracked the air itself. Zeru's body folded mid-flight before crashing into the floor in a rolling heap.

Silence.

Zeru coughed, eyes hazy for a breath—then focused again.

He rose.

Riku didn't move.

"...Still not enough," Zeru said, dragging his arm back into position. "I thought if I layered my timing… used harmonic frequencies to mask trajectory…"

"It was smart," Riku said flatly. "Most of the others would've been dead by now."

Zeru chuckled, but there was no pride in it.

Only understanding.

"You're not just faster. You're... untouchable. Not because you dodge. But because you understand."

Riku nodded once.

"I don't need to outrun your technique," he said. "I just need to know where you'll be before you do."

Zeru's eyes widened slightly.

Then narrowed.

"…Then let's break that instinct."

Zeru slammed both palms together.

"Seventh String: Requiem Array."

The chamber dimmed.

Reality twisted.

Circles of light appeared beneath Riku's feet—each one pulsing with erratic frequencies, trying to trap him in locked space-time harmonics.

Riku looked down. Felt the distortion tightening.

Then moved.

But this time—

Zeru was there.

Blades in both hands.

One horizontal.

One vertical.

Both aiming for critical points.

He struck.

CLANG!

Metal shattered—not Riku's body, but Zeru's own blades.

Riku had caught both with his bare hands—and squeezed.

Zeru staggered back, shocked, the remnants of his technique collapsing into silence.

The two warriors stood again, breathing—barely.

Neither willing to fall.

Neither willing to break.

From the throne, Akuma Kurogane finally rose, shadows coiling behind him.

"…Good," he said. "Keep sharpening each other. The stronger he becomes… the more worth it'll be to destroy him."

His eyes flared red.

And the chamber darkened.