Bonds of Darkness: Swordmen's Redemption

Chapter Fifty-Two: Jingliu's Ascension

A/N: Do read "Chapter Fifty-One: Eclipse" first before reading this chapter, thank you. 

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Jingliu's stance, a solitary silhouette against the backdrop of an eternal cosmos, was a monument to her journey. There was a palpable stillness, a quiet before the birth of stars, where her thoughts unfurled like nebulae across the tapestry of her mind. Each celestial sentinel stood as a testament to the epochs she had traversed, the trials overcome, and the allies who had graced her path with their wisdom and might.

A mental bulwark rose within her, a recognition of the precipice upon which she balanced—the edge of transformation. It was a barrier, not of confinement, but of potential waiting to be unleashed, the harbinger of her evolution.

Her heart thrummed a silent cadence, a rhythm that resonated with the frequency of gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed into the void, a mantra echoing into the universe. The simplicity of the phrase belied the depth of her indebtedness, the sum of countless debts woven into the very fabric of her being.

She had sought solitude, a path of her own forging, and yet destiny had conspired to weave others into her narrative.

Pluto's gift was the dance of twin blades, their swift arcs and deadly poise now mirrored in Jingliu's own style. The girl's dual-wielding finesse had inspired Jingliu to adapt her single sword to confront a multitude of foes simultaneously, a whirlwind of ice and steel.

Holos's lessons in defense had bolstered her resilience. His guidance had fortified her Moonlit Guardian, an ethereal shield that resonated with the lunar force. Yet, even with this newfound strength, Jingliu sensed an absence, a gap in her defenses waiting to be filled.

Adabas, with her entrancing ruby petals, had sharpened Jingliu's mental edge. The hypnotic dances and illusory warfare had been infuriating trials, yet they forged in her an unwavering focus, a mind as impervious as the hardest diamond.

Mono's teachings had been a spectacle of raw power. The girl's sword, capable of sundering mountains, had stirred a deep-seated awe within Jingliu. It echoed the aura strikes of Y/N, yet with an intensity that went beyond, pushing Jingliu to master the art of cleaving with her greatsword, a force to rival the tectonic.

Icaria, master of flames, had guided Jingliu through the paradox of her innate element—ice. The cryo abilities, a tempest born from emotional turmoil, had evolved into a versatile arsenal. Avalanches, icy slashes, the negation of healing—all these were now woven into Jingliu's combative tapestry. Their spars, a clash of fire and ice, had honed her swordsmanship to a fine edge, each exchange a lesson in power and restraint.

Yara, the healer and scholar, had been a wellspring of knowledge. The doctor had dissected Jingliu's powers, offering insights that accelerated her mastery over her abilities, laying the groundwork for techniques that Jingliu now wielded with confident precision.

Seris, the noble haunted by specters of the past, had served as the crucible for Jingliu's acquired skills. The noblewoman's versatile prowess challenged Jingliu in every conceivable way, acting as the final arbiter of her preparedness.

And then there was Terminus. The Aeon, a being of enigmatic contrasts, had become a friend. Governed by time, death, and the universe, Terminus had shown Jingliu the expanse of her domain—yet remained curiously detached from it, displaying a humanity that defied her divine nature. In her company, Jingliu had learned to manipulate time with her ice, to shape her soul as a bulwark against death, and to wield her sword with a force that could sever the fabric of the cosmos itself.

The Dark Moon, Terminus's final lesson, loomed over Jingliu—a threshold to an ascension that called to her very essence. Gratitude, profound and heartfelt, filled Jingliu's heart for the Aeon who had guided her to this point of near-transcendence.