Severing Horizon

I stepped out from the shadows of the wings.

The glare of the emergency floodlights hit me. I walked calmly onto the stage, my dress shoes clicking against the reinforced flooring.

To the cameras still broadcasting to the massive jumbo-trons, it must have looked pathetic. The useless husband, wandering out to die with his wife. I could hear the collective gasp of the remaining audience.

"Julian!" Seraphina choked out, blood trickling from her temple. "What are you doing? Run, you idiot!"

I ignored her. I walked past her, placing myself between her and the Hydra.

The beast paused. Its three heads swayed, confused. I had no mana. To its senses, I was nothing. A rock. A blade of grass. Not worth eating.

I looked down at the debris on the stage. A microphone stand lay twisted near my feet. It was cheap aluminum, hollow and dented.

"Garbage," I muttered. "It will have to do."

I picked it up. It felt impossibly light in my hands. I gripped the base, snapping the top half off so I was left with a four-foot rod of metal.

The Hydra hissed, annoyed by my presence. The central head drew back, opening a maw filled with void energy. It prepared to vomit a stream of corruption that would liquefy everything in a hundred-foot radius.

I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second. I reached deep into the newly formed dantian of Julian’s body. It was a small reservoir, a drop compared to the ocean I used to command, but it was pure.

I channeled the *Qi* into the aluminum rod. The metal groaned, vibrating at a frequency that made the air around me ripple.

"Kneel," I whispered.

The word wasn't loud, but I projected my intent outward. The pressure slammed into the stadium like a physical hammer.

The Hydra flinched. For the first time, the purple fire in its eyes flickered with fear. It recognized what stood before it. Not a man. A catastrophe.

I stepped forward and swung the microphone stand in a simple, horizontal arc.

* Sword Saint Style, First Form: Severing Horizon.*

There was no sound of impact. There was no flash of light.

There was only a line.

A thin, distortion in the air traveled from the tip of the rod, expanding as it moved. It passed through the Hydra’s three necks. It passed through the spatial rift hanging above the stage. It passed through the very clouds in the sky above the open-air arena.

Silence stretched for a heartbeat.

Then, the sky split. The clouds parted in a perfect straight line, revealing the stars.

The rift above the stage collapsed in on itself with a soft *pop*.

And the three heads of the Void Hydra slid slowly, wetly, off its body. They hit the stage with a heavy thud, followed a second later by the massive carcass dissolving into black ash.