The courtyard held its breath, as though even the wind dared not intrude.

  Daeryon’s stance sank lower, his frame settling with the immovable gravity of a mountain choosing its place upon the earth.

  His arm coiled inward, palm curving with deliberate precision. Chi gathered in his hand, not wild or formless, but dense, sharp, honed into something that felt less like energy and more like inevitability.

  The pressure of it pressed against my chest. Heavy. Suffocating. As if the world itself bent to the weight he summoned.

  “Raion,” Daeryon said, his voice low, threaded with warning. “This palm is not light. It is restraint bound in force. Lose that restraint, and you will destroy whatever stands before you.”

  His palm snapped forward. No roar. No blaze. Only pressure.

  The air compressed, folding in on itself before bursting outward in a shockwave so sudden it rattled my bones.

  Dust erupted from the stones. Hairline cracks spidered across the courtyard floor, sharp and delicate as if the earth itself had winced.

  Raion stumbled back, eyes wide, breath caught in awe. “It… it crushed the ground without touching it!”

  Daeryon exhaled, lowering his arm with quiet control, the rumble of his voice like distant thunder rolling across the sky. “The Sixth Palm. Crushing Void. The dragon’s weight, absolute. It does not strike the body. It strikes the space around it, and lets that weight consume all within.”

  Raion’s face lit with trembling joy. He stepped forward, shoulders tense with determination, planting his small feet in a perfect mirrored stance.

  His hand curved just as his father’s had, breath sharp with focus. He thrust his palm outward.

  Nothing.

  Only the faintest ripple stirred, like a breeze brushing against stone, and then it was gone.

  Raion’s hand dropped, shoulders sagging. “I… I can’t do it. I don’t know why. I… I thought I did it the same way you did, Father.”

  Daeryon stepped forward and rested a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. “What you did was great, Raion. Better than you realize. But right now, without enough chi, you cannot perform it perfectly. What matters is the form. Keep it alive in your body until the day your chi is ready to bear its weight.”

  Straightening, Daeryon let chi flicker faintly across his frame, like firelight dancing over stone. “I will show you again. Watch closely. Remember the rhythm. Etch it into your bones.”

  His arm coiled once more, movements fluid, unbroken, as though each gesture carried the memory of countless repetitions.

  I hovered only steps away, unable to keep from moving in sync, my ghostly form shadowing them.

  Daeryon’s words carved themselves into me as surely as into Raion. Restraint bound in force. Pressure without collapse.

  Each time Daeryon struck, I struck. Each time Raion faltered, I faltered. The three of us bound together. Father. Son. Ghost.

  The hours slipped past, unmeasured. Raion’s brow gleamed with sweat, his small hands gray with dust. His body shook, but his resolve never broke. Still he pressed on.

  Daeryon’s patience never wavered. Each correction landed with the weight of stone, each word steady, anchored in quiet certainty.

  I felt like a child again, clumsy and unsteady, as though learning how to walk for the first time.

  Yet beneath it all, I could feel Daeryon carving something into us, etching the art not only into Raion’s hands but into mine as well.

  At last, Daeryon lowered his hand. The courtyard lay still, heavy with dust and silence. Raion’s chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, sweat dripping from his small chin to the cracked stone.

  Daeryon studied him for a long moment. Slowly, his gaze darkened.

  “Now the last move,” he said at last, voice low and grave. “The Seventh. The final art of the Seven Dragon Palms.”

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  The air itself seemed to pause. His words carried more weight than any chi I had felt, pressing down harder than the Crushing Void.

  Raion’s brows furrowed. “Father… what is wrong? You don’t seem like you want to show it to me.”

  Daeryon’s nod was heavy. “Yes. Raion, the Seventh Palm is not like the others. It is not for sparring, not for teaching, not even for defense. It is force without restraint. An attack born only for killing.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the dust seemed unwilling to move.

  Daeryon’s stance shifted, slower than before, as though the very act of preparing it carried danger.

  His palm curved inward, not outward this time, drawing the chi into himself. The air screamed against his skin, vibrating with a soundless pressure.

  The courtyard shook. Shadows twisted, bending unnaturally. My ghostly body shuddered, the edges of my vision tearing like paper at the seams.

  Then...

  His palm thrust forward.

  The world split.

  No dust. No sound of stone breaking. Only silence, deep and absolute, as a black void ripped across the courtyard, swallowing the air itself.

  A moment later, it collapsed in on itself, leaving behind only a pit of scorched stone, blackened as if it had been erased from existence.

  Raion staggered back, his small body trembling. “It… it erased everything…”

  Daeryon lowered his arm, expression carved in grim finality. “The Seventh Palm. The Dragon’s End. A strike that annihilates not only flesh, but spirit. Once unleashed, there is no restraint, no undoing. That is why you must never, never use it lightly. Do you understand?”

  Raion swallowed hard. “Yes… Father. I understand.”

  My core trembled. “This was no longer training. No longer art. This was death itself, shaped into a palm.”

  Daeryon’s voice softened slightly, though his eyes stayed shadowed. “I only show it to you now. But we will not train this one. Not until you are ready.”

  The last ripples of chi faded into the air, leaving only silence. Daeryon sighed. “That’s enough for today, Raion. You should rest. You worked hard.”

  Raion blinked, then managed a weary smile. “Okay, Father. I’ll go now. Thank you… I really had fun.”

  Daeryon placed his hand on the boy’s head, a small blessing, fleeting yet heavy with care. “You did well.”

  Raion nodded and padded down the corridor, shoulders loosening as exhaustion finally claimed him.

  The courtyard seemed quieter without him. Dust motes drifted where the palms had struck, lazy in the fading light.

  Daeryon turned, his coat falling heavy across his shoulders, and began walking toward the inner hall where the elders waited.

  I drifted at his side, closer than before, my voice breaking the silence. “That last move… it’s too much. The first ones were strong, yes, they crushed stone, shook the air. But the Seventh… it was devastating. Have you ever used it on someone?”

  I frowned. “You didn’t even use it when you fought the Blood-Maiden Wolf. Why not? I’m pretty sure it would have killed him.”

  Daeryon’s stride never faltered, but I caught the tension in his shoulders. His gaze flicked toward me, steady and sharp. “First of all, Daniel,” he said, voice clipped with reproach, “do not watch another man’s martial art without his permission. It is dishonorable and foolish. Had you tried that with someone other than me, they would have cut you down where you stood.”

  I let out a short laugh. “Yeah, what was I supposed to do? Close my eyes?”

  He stopped, turning just enough to pin me with that flat, unamused stare. “Close your eyes, and you wouldn’t have lived long enough to see me finish the first palm.”

  I gaped at him. “Wow. Not even a full second of survival? That’s the confidence you have in me?”

  For a fleeting moment, something like amusement tugged at the edge of his expression, so faint I almost thought I imagined it. “One and a half seconds, perhaps. If your opponent was merciful.”

  I threw up my hands. “Oh, great. Glad to know my legendary endurance is measured in half-seconds.”

  The ghost of that almost-smile vanished, his eyes returning to their usual iron calm. His voice sank lower, steadier. “Secondly. The Seventh Palm would have destroyed the Azure Lotus. You think I didn’t consider it? I restrained myself because we had only one chance left with him. To unleash the Dragon’s End would have been to erase more than our enemy. It would have erased our only hope.”

  I looked at him, a grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah, I expected that much. You didn’t use your full power because you couldn’t risk losing her, could you?”

  Daeryon’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. “I do not appreciate your sarcasm, Daniel.”

  I gave him a flat stare. “Man, I’m not being sarcastic. I’m appreciating you. Damn. Take the compliment.”

  For a moment Daeryon said nothing. His gaze lingered, steady, unreadable, like he was weighing the truth of my words. The silence stretched until I almost regretted saying anything at all.

  Then he spoke, voice low, deliberate. “Something you must understand, Daniel. Power without judgment is a blade that cuts in every direction. It consumes the wielder, and everything they hold dear. If you cannot master it, it will pull down everyone you love with you.”

  The weight in his tone silenced me.

  “I have killed many in war,” Daeryon continued. His voice was quiet now, but edged with memories older than scars. “I learned early that a victory built on ruin leaves nothing worth saving. Restraint is not weakness. Sometimes, restraint is the only true strength.”

  My smile faded. I lowered my head. “Yeah. You’re right, Daeryon.”

  We walked in silence, the echo of our footsteps filling the empty corridor. The air thickened as the great doors of the council chamber came into view, carved with dragons that seemed to coil and watch us.

  “We go there now?” I asked, my voice soft and worried.

  Daeryon paused at the threshold, one hand resting against the ancient wood. “Yes. The matters of the sect cannot wait.”

  I nodded. Together, we pushed the doors open.

  Inside, the elders waited. Their eyes caught the fading light of the torches, glinting with unreadable weight.

  The air in the chamber was colder, heavier, as if the walls themselves carried secrets too dangerous to speak aloud.

  Daeryon’s voice dropped to a murmur, almost to himself. “What I decide here tonight will change everything, my ending and my family's.”

  And as we stepped into the chamber, a chill went through me. Whatever was about to be decided here...

  It would tear the world I knew apart.