Chapter 6 - Kissing Blades.

The wind blew heavy.

Not a breeze.
Not a storm.
Something sharper —
as if the air itself bowed when the man with white hair stepped forward.

His hair moved like it was alive,
singing softly,
flowing in elegant currents the wind didn’t dare oppose.

Then—

A mountain split.

Cleanly.
Quietly.
Indifferently.

“I never expected you to be so clingy.”

CLASH.

Keir’s blade shot up instinctively.
The man’s katana slid against it —
a soft metallic kiss,
light and effortless,
like greeting an old friend
he had always planned to kill.

They moved.

Not with rage.
Not with desperation.

With choreography.

Elegant slices.
Cruel shapes.
A dance carved into muscle memory and trauma.

No matter how many angles Keir tried —
overhead, low sweep, shoulder feint, broken rhythm —
no matter how the man shifted —
stepping, gliding, tilting his wrist by a fraction—

Neither could cut the other down.

But the strain showed.

Sweat clung to their brows.
Breaths sharpened.
Heat radiated where cold resolve should have been.

Steel clashed
again
and again
and again —
each impact birthing sparks that scattered across the air
like fire refusing to die.

Keir kissed his teeth.

Sky watched.

Her blank blue eyes followed everything with unnerving clarity —
the arcs of the blades,
the footwork,
the way the ground dented under their weight.

And the destruction.

Trees carved into perfect halves.
Ridges of mountains shaved thin.
Boulders severed like warm foam.

She inhaled slowly.

“…Answer me.

Why now?”

Keir’s voice trembled between strikes,
his blade grinding against the man’s katana,
sparks flaring as the weapons locked like two beasts biting each other’s throats.

The man shifted his weight.

A single kick.

Precise.
Measured.
Merciless.

Keir’s ribs folded inward with a hollow thud,
his body stumbling back several steps.

“Why you ask?” the man repeated.

He stood tall —
not gloating,
not angry —
simply existing above the world.

Wise.
Calm.
Arrogant without effort.

“Because you committed the ultimate sin.”

The words hung heavy.

Sky blinked.
Her voice came soft, almost airy:

“…sin…?”

And the wind seemed to listen.

“What do you mean by sin?”

Her voice was calm.
Blunt.
Direct.

Sky took a single step forward.

She blinked.

“Stay back!”

Keir’s shout cracked the air.
He thrust a palm toward her — and a sudden gust exploded outward.

Sky’s heels lifted off the ground.
Her body drifted backward with unintentional elegance, spinning gently through the air as she thought:

…so cold.

But the cold wasn’t the wind.

It was him.

The silver-haired man was—

Gone?

No.

He was behind her.

Death approached her spine like a whisper.

And then—

CLANG.

Two blades kissed again.

Keir’s sword caught the man’s katana just inches from the back of Sky’s neck.
Steel sparks brushed her hair.

“You confuse me,” the man murmured.
“Why sacrifice everything… for this girl?”

Sky blinked.

…sacrifice?

Before she could process it, the man twisted, driving his elbow into Keir’s abdomen.

A direct blow.

“—Tch.”

Keir staggered back, grip trembling.
Red ink spilled from the corner of his mouth.
He wiped it with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing.

The man continued, voice composed and unforgiving:

“I’ll ask you once more.”

He stepped forward.
One step.
Another.

Each one froze the air.

“Why sacrifice everything?”

He tilted his chin slightly — not with curiosity, but condemnation.

“You’re aware, aren’t you?
That once you return to the kingdom, you will be executed for treason.”

Keir’s breath halted.

“And for conspiring in the genocide of our people.”

Sky’s eyes widened.

Genocide…?

The man’s gaze dimmed, expression unreadable.

“…To think,” he whispered,
“that my little brother would do such a thing.”

Silence.

Wind stopped.
Air stopped.
Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

Everything froze around that single sentence.

My little brother.

Keir didn’t answer.

His chest flared violently, breath scraping his throat as he struggled to stay upright.

He stared at his palm.

Smeared with red.

A colour too bright to be blood.
Almost like—

“…A canvas, huh…”

he whispered to himself.

“Huh?”
The man tilted his head.

He opened his mouth.

“Do you have any last w—”

THUD.

He stopped.

A small rock struck his cheek.
Not enough to hurt him.
Just enough to cut the skin —
a thin line of crimson tracing his jaw.

“…A cut…?”
he muttered.

He turned.

Sky stood there.

Holding two rocks.
Hands trembling.
Chest tightening.
Eyes shaking.

“What do you mean,” she breathed, voice thin—

“Genocide.”

She swallowed.
Her breath caught.

“Treason.”

Her eyes watered.
Not from fear.
From something deeper.

“Ultimate sin…”

Her voice cracked into something raw —
anger, sadness, fear, confusion —
bleeding together inside her all at once.

“What has Mister Keir done?”

Sky demanded it.

Her voice didn’t echo.

It carved through the air.

The man stepped forward.
His katana rose — just slightly —
enough to decide a life.

Keir’s voice broke the moment in two.

“Stay out of this…
Sky.”

His tone wasn’t harsh.
It was empty.

“It’s not worth it.”

Sky stared at him.

His eyes — always dull, always exhausted —
looked worse now.

Dead.
Colourless.
Declining into something past hopelessness.

Why?

she thought.

Why do you look so sad?

“You say it’s not worth it,”
the man muttered, cold eyes narrowing as he walked.

Slow.
Measured.
Step
by
step.

Each footfall echoed through the massive forest.

Birds silenced.
Wind held its breath.
Even the trees seemed to lean away from him.

Sky gritted her teeth.

“Commit what?!”

Her shout cut the world open.

The man finally answered.

“For conspiring with monsters like yourself,” he said, gripping his blade tighter,
“the ones who took everything away from us.”

His gaze sharpened, voice rising —

“Why, little brother?
Why do such a th—”

His demand was sliced in half.

By a whisper.

“I found her cute.”

The world froze.

Silence spread outward like shockwaves.

Sky blinked.

The man blinked.

Even the wind hesitated.

Keir’s words hung in the air,
quiet, small,
yet violent enough to stop a kingdom.

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