The Essence Flow

Chapter 178: Blade Without Sheath

Haeren moved like a shadow given will.

One moment he stood still—the next, his arm lanced forward, a purple spear of Corruption erupting from the ground straight toward Alira’s chest.

Len reacted on instinct, her hands slamming together as a wall of water surged up between them.

It lasted half a second.

Haeren’s spear pierced through like paper, the shield exploding into mist as the backlash slammed into Len, knocking her to her knees. A sharp gasp escaped her—part pain, part disbelief.

(What…?)

Her strongest defense—gone in a breath.

Haeren didn’t pause. His fingers twitched, and another spear materialized, this one coiling from the earth like a viper, its tip glistening with something darker than poison.

Alira’s eyes widened.

(How fast—?!)

No time to dodge.

Her hands clapped together, flames roaring to life between her palms—not to throw, but to contain. The fireball swelled, heat distorting the air as she rammed it forward, meeting the spear mid-lunge.

BOOM.

The collision sent a shockwave ripping outward, kicking up dust and debris. For a heartbeat, flame and Corruption warred—

Then the spear melted, dissolving into thick, violet sludge that splattered across the stones, hissing where it landed.

Rellie’s dagger twitched in her grip, her instincts screaming.

"Don’t touch that," she said, voice unnaturally steady. "Just… in case."

Something about that liquid made her skin crawl—like it was watching them back.

"Haha..."

Haeren's laugh was unnerving—not triumphant, but hollow, like the echo in an empty cathedral. His violet-tinged eyes gleamed with something far from sanity.

"Is this the strength of First-Class students?" He spread his arms, Corruption swirling around him like a second skin. "Pathetic."

Towan didn’t rise to the taunt. His gaze was steel, his stance unshaken, but his silence spoke louder than any retort.

Haeren’s grin widened. "You’re nothing against this new power of mine."

"Are you the one behind the monsters?" Towan’s voice was flat. He already knew the answer.

Haeren tilted his head, mock-curious. "You’re that famous First-Year, First-Class… Towan, right?"

No reply.

"Ah. I see." A shrug, casual as if discussing the weather. "Yes, I’m the one behind this." His fingers flexed, Corruption dripping from his nails like tar. "So the Academy will listen—you know, about the weapon thing."

Towan’s jaw tightened. "You know this isn’t helping, right?"

"They’ll definitely listen this way."

Rellie’s breath hitched.

(He’s not in his right mind…)

Her empathy pierced through the Corruption, revealing the rotten core of his intentions. Once, there had been something pure there—a desperate plea for fairness, for recognition.

Now?

It was twisted. Ugly.

Like a beautiful painting smeared with mud.

Haeren moved like a storm given form—no hesitation, no restraint. His longsword carved through the air, violet Corruption bleeding off the blade in thick, swirling tendrils, the edge humming with a sound like tearing flesh. The strike was brutal, diagonal—a executioner’s cut meant to split Towan from shoulder to hip.

Towan didn’t block.

(With that level of Corruption… he can penetrate through most defenses.)

He sidestepped, the sword’s tip missing his ribs by a hair’s breadth. Before Haeren could recover, Towan lashed out, a short, piston-driven jab cracking into Haeren’s solar plexus. The impact echoed dully, like striking wet leather.

Perfect connection.

Haeren grinned through the pain, his lips peeling back from bloodied teeth. Already, the Corruption beneath his skin pulsed, veins writhing as they knit muscle and bone back together.

Towan’s eyes narrowed.

(Healing factor… It must leave some kind of consequence.)

Nothing came without a price.

The others could only watch.

Len and Alira stood at the periphery, their Essentia flickering weakly—Len’s water magic reduced to dripping threads, Alira’s flames spitting and guttering like dying candles. They knew—stepping in now would only shackle Towan.

Rellie’s fingers tightened around her dagger, her empathy recoiling at the sickness radiating from Haeren. She was quick, precise—but this? This was a hurricane, and she had no way to weather it.

Ryn hadn’t moved a muscle. His usual sharpness was frozen, his body locked in something between awe and terror.

And at the back, Veik and Calo—wide-eyed, breath caught in their throats. They’d seen Towan fight before, but this?

This was something else entirely.

Haeren's blade arced high, the corrupted steel gleaming under the fractured moonlight—a brutal, telegraphed slash aimed to cleave Towan's shoulder from his body.

Towan's muscles tensed to evade—

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

(A feint..!)

His instincts screamed a half-second before Haeren's strike morphed, the blade pivoting mid-swing into a vicious low thrust. Corruption surged from the edge, elongating like a serpent's fang, streaking toward Towan's thigh.

He twisted, his torso contorting just enough that the blade skated across his ribs instead of impaling him. The cut was shallow—but it burned, the Corruption searing into his flesh like acid-soaked wire.

(Ugh…)

A grunt escaped him as the pain bloomed outward, his stomach muscles clenching against the invasive heat. But his hands never stopped moving.

Left hand— clamping onto Haeren's wrist like a vice.

Right knee— driving upward in a piston strike that cratered into Haeren's gut.

The impact lifted Haeren off his feet, a spray of spit and blood misting the air between them.

Yet Haeren laughed, his teeth painted crimson.

"You hit like a Third-Class!"

Towan leapt back, putting distance between them. His breath came steady, but his mind raced.

(His endurance doesn’t make sense…)

Two clean hits. Two strikes that would have shattered stone, let alone flesh.

(Anyone else would have fallen by now.)

A single drop of sweat trailed down his temple, the first sign of tension in his otherwise immovable focus.

Haeren landed in a crouch, his boots scoring deep furrows into the earth. He didn’t pant. Didn’t stagger. The violet aura that had once licked faintly at his edges now coiled around him like a second skin, tendrils flickering over his shoulders, testing the air like serpents tasting prey.

His sword dripped Corruption, the edge alive with restless energy.

"You're calculating," Haeren mused, his voice thick with amusement. "Trying to figure out what’s broken inside me."

He rose—slow, deliberate, as if time itself bent to his pace.

"Let me help you out."

A vein burst along his forearm, blackening instantly as Corruption flooded the rupture. The power around him pulsed, rhythmic and hungry, mimicking a heartbeat

."But some things?" His grin split wider, teeth gleaming in the eerie light. "Aren’t broken."

His sword lifted—

—and the world warped.

The ground buckled inward, space itself distorting as if Haeren’s will alone crushed gravity into submission.

Towan’s stance shifted, his muscles coiling.

(His Essentia output just… spiked.)

Then—Haeren stopped playing.

His blade melted, liquefying into a whip-like tendril that lashed out in three blinding strikes

First strike – Towan ducked, the Corruption searing the air where his head had been.

Second strike – He parried with his forearm, the contact burning through his sleeve, flesh hissing as Corruption ate at his skin.

Third strike – A near-miss, the tendril grazing his cheek as he twisted aside.

(He’s becoming sharper.)

A cold realization settled in Towan’s gut.

(I need to end this before he keeps improving.)

Towan’s shoulders slumped, his guard dropping for a split second—a calculated show of exhaustion.

Haeren took the bait.

He lunged, his body committing to a brutal overhead smash, Corruption swelling at the point of impact—

Towan pivoted, his hand shooting out to catch Haeren’s wrist. With a wrenching pull, he used Haeren’s own momentum against him, slamming him spine-first into the earth.

The impact cracked the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and violet embers.

Alira watched, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the shaft of her stolen axe.

This wasn’t the Towan she knew.

Not the laughing brawler who took hits like they were nothing, who grinned through split lips and winked through swollen eyes. The boy who’d let her land cheap shots in sparring just to see her smirk.

The memory of that carefree smile—always present, even when cornered—clashed violently with what stood before her now.

Cold. Razor-edged. A blade stripped of its sheath.

Every movement was calculated, every strike devoid of wasted energy. There was no playfulness, no taunting flourish—just lethal efficiency.

"I… didn’t know Towan could fight like this," Alira murmured, her voice unusually small.

Len’s gaze flicked to her, lips parted. "He’s held back more than I thought."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Haeren rose.

His spine knit itself back together with a sickening crunch, Corruption swirling like a living thing to mend shattered bone and torn muscle. He rolled his shoulders, as if shaking off a mild inconvenience, and grinned.

"That all?"

Towan’s eyes sharpened, his focus narrowing to a single point—Haeren’s smirking face, the Corruption writhing beneath his skin like a nest of serpents.

(This bastard… is just getting stronger.)

His arms rose, muscles coiling, but his mind raced faster than his body.

(What can I do to put him down for good?)

Then—a memory.

Leon’s training. The crushing weight of the waterfall slamming into his back, driving him to his knees, the relentless force that had hammered his body into something unyielding.

(Skybreaker…)

The kick he’d been grinding himself raw to perfect. The one technique that still eluded him, no matter how many boulders he shattered, no matter how many trees he splintered.

It wasn’t ready.

But Haeren wouldn’t give him time to practice.

(I’ll have to.)

Towan expanded his awareness, letting his senses bleed outward—the tremor of the earth beneath his feet, the hitch in Haeren’s breath before he moved, the distant crackle of Alira’s dying flames.

He breathed in.

Out.

Haeren lunged—

—and Towan moved.

Haeren erupted forward, his body wreathed in seething Corruption, the violet energy coiling around him like a second skin. His sword elongated into a jagged spear, its tip humming with lethal intent—aimed straight for Towan’s heart.

A killing blow.

Towan’s eyes widened.

(There it is!)

A flicker of clarity—a single, fleeting path carved through the chaos.

His leg needed to move here—his body twisted just so—but it meant taking the hit.

No hesitation.

He embraced the strike.

Haeren’s blade pierced through Towan’s right shoulder, the Corruption sizzling as it burrowed into flesh. Towan’s face twitched, a grunt escaping his teeth—but his motion never faltered.

His leg lifted, the air around it distorting, rippling like water under a falling boulder.

Haeren’s eyes widened.

(This one—this one’s different—!)

Rellie’s mouth dropped open, her empathic Essentia flaring violently.

She felt it—the crushing weight of a waterfall, the roar of a river crashing down, the unrelenting force of nature itself.

It wasn’t visible—but it might as well have been.

Towan’s heel connected with Haeren’s neck.

"SKYBREAKER… ULTIMATE!"

The impact detonated like a collapsing cliffside, the force hurling Haeren backward, his body cartwheeling through the air before slamming into a tree trunk. Wood splintered, bark exploding outward as the oak cracked in half from the sheer momentum.

Haeren crumpled to the ground.

He did not rise.

Towan collapsed to one knee, his breath ragged as he clutched his shoulder, fingers pressing against the searing wound. Blood seeped between his knuckles, dark and glistening. His voice was low, rough, but carried the weight of absolute finality.

"Don’t get up."

Alira was the first to reach him, her usual bravado shattered into wide-eyed disbelief.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" she demanded, hands gesturing wildly toward the shattered tree where Haeren lay motionless.

Towan smirked, though it was strained. "Everything I had. Haha." The laugh was more of a pained exhale than genuine amusement.

Len smiled too, her usual calm giving way to something brighter, fiercer. "That was amazing."

Ryn stood slightly apart, his sharp eyes flickering between Towan and the fallen Haeren.

(So this is the level of a First-Class genius…)

The same thought echoed in Calo and Veik’s minds, their expressions caught between awe and something quieter—something like realization.

"Ugh." Towan groaned as the pain in his shoulder sharpened, a deep, throbbing ache that radiated down his arm. It wasn’t a fatal wound—but it was heavy.

(Had it hit my chest…)

He discarded the thought. No point dwelling on almosts.

Len ripped the sleeve off her t-shirt, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound. "Don’t move," she ordered, pressing the makeshift bandage against the wound.

Alira scanned the treeline, her usual fire dimmed by unease. "We should go back…"

But Rellie didn’t relax.

The wolves were still. Haeren was down.

Yet—

Her fingers twitched, her empathic senses prickling with warning.

(Something else is here.)