"Void."
The word slipped from my lips, barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of everything I had been missing.
The battlefield, the searing heat of the Kraken's cosmic beam, the molten scars left in its wake—none of it mattered for that single moment.
Because now, I understood.
My grip tightened around my estoc as the realization settled into my bones, threading itself through my thoughts with unshakable clarity.
[Void Starfall Blade.]
The technique my master had taught me. The technique I had spent years perfecting. The foundation of my swordsmanship.
And yet, I had never questioned it.
"Master," I had once asked, turning to Gerald in the middle of training, sweat dripping down my brow. "Why did you give the technique that name?"
It had been an idle question at the time. A curiosity, nothing more.
Gerald's response, however, had been strange.
"I felt like it," he had said simply, his tone casual, as if the answer was obvious.
