6. Sword to sword

As Acheron bid farewell to Luminous and ventured out into the unknown, she found herself wandering aimlessly, her path dictated only by the whims of the wind. With each step, she felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon her, the road ahead shrouded in shadow.

Lost in thought, she scarcely noticed the figure that emerged from the mist, a woman whose presence exuded an aura of power and determination. Acheron tensed, instinctively bracing herself for a confrontation.

"Who goes there?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the apprehension that gnawed at her.

The woman regarded her with a keen gaze, her eyes alight with a spark of challenge. "I am Chronoa," she declared, her tone laced with confidence. "And I seek a worthy opponent."

Acheron narrowed her eyes, a flicker of curiosity stirring within her. "What makes you think I'm the one you're looking for?"

Chronoa's lips curled into a smirk, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Call it intuition," she replied cryptically. "Or perhaps fate."

Without another word, she assumed a fighting stance, her movements fluid and precise. Acheron mirrored her stance, her senses on high alert as she prepared for the impending clash.

"You seek a worthy opponent. Do you truly believe you'll find one in me?" Acheron, thanks to her Ultimate skill, was totally invisible to everyone. So that meant that the person in front of her was acting on their instincts.

Chronoa started smirking. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

The air crackled with tension as they circled each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Acheron studied Chronoa's form, noting the precision in her movements and the confidence in her stance. She could tell that Chronoa was skilled, perhaps even formidable, but she sensed hesitance beneath the surface.

As if testing the waters, Acheron made a cautious advance, her blade moving with deliberate slowness. Chronoa met her strike with a swift parry, her movements fluid and controlled. Acheron nodded in acknowledgment, impressed by her opponent's skill.

"You're skilled, but you hold back. Why?" Acheron questioned with her usual composed stoic face.

Chronoa started gritting her teeth; she knew that Acheron was going easy on her. "I could ask you the same thing."

For a time, they exchanged blows in a measured dance of steel and shadow. Acheron held back, matching Chronoa's pace with deliberate ease. She could sense Chronoa's frustration growing, her attacks becoming more aggressive as she sought to break through Acheron's defenses.

But Acheron remained calm and composed, her movements calculated and precise. She deflected Chronoa's strikes with effortless grace, her own strikes growing in speed and intensity as she gradually increased the pressure.

Chronoa started to seem exhausted, panting. "You're...*Huff*...You're toying with me!"

"No. I'm giving you a chance to show your true strength." With her stoic face, she said, with a bit of serenity placed in her voice.

Chronoa, realizing that she was being pushed to her limits, redoubled her efforts, her strikes becoming more desperate and erratic. Acheron saw an opening and seized it, launching a rapid flurry of strikes that left Chronoa reeling.

As their swords clashed and sparks flew, Acheron could feel the tension in the air, a palpable energy that crackled between them. With each exchange, she gained a deeper understanding of her opponent's technique, probing for weaknesses with masterful finesse.

Finally, with a decisive blow, Acheron disarmed Chronoa, sending her sword clattering to the ground. Breathless and defeated, Chronoa regarded Acheron with a mixture of admiration and respect.

"You fight like a grandmaster of the sword."

Acheron only nodded. "And you fought with honor. But there's still much for you to learn."

Acheron also realized something. The woman Chronoa in front of her was stronger than Rudra, but the main thing was that the woman knew her sword technique. Even some little parts of her swordsmanship were in her strikes.

"How did you know about my sword art? I never taught anyone. And for a second, I was thinking that I was fighting two people."

"Who knows?" Chronoa answered with a mysterious smile on her face.

As the tension between them dissipated, Chronoa's expression softened, her gaze growing introspective. "I sense that you are on a journey," she observed, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Where do you seek to go?"

Acheron hesitated, the weight of her purpose heavy upon her shoulders. "I do not know," she confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I wander where the wind takes me, in search of answers."

Chronoa regarded her with a knowing smile, as if she understood the weight of Acheron's burden. "Then may the winds be ever at your back," she said, her tone earnest. "And may your path lead you to where you are meant to be."

Before Chronoa left, she looked at departing Acheron. "It seems like I can't defeat even the younger you, Master." With those words in her mind, Chronoa went back on her quest, with a smile on her face.

---

As Acheron traversed the desolate expanse of the frigid wastelands, the biting cold seemed to have no effect on her. She was immune to its icy grip, her form untouched by the freezing temperatures that enveloped the barren landscape. Each step she took was steady and resolute, her determination unwavering despite the harsh conditions that surrounded her.

Suddenly, a familiar voice pierced the eerie silence, sending a shiver down Acheron's spine. It was the voice of Velzard, the True Dragon of Ice, whose presence she had encountered once before. Intrigued, Acheron followed the sound, her senses on high alert.

Before long, she came upon a vast cavern nestled amidst the frozen tundra, its entrance obscured by a thick veil of mist. With cautious steps, she ventured inside, her heart pounding with anticipation.

As she entered the cavern, Acheron's eyes widened in surprise at the sight that greeted her. Standing before her was Velzard, her form towering and majestic, her scales shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

"Welcome, Acheron," Velzard greeted her, her voice echoing through the cavern like the rumble of distant thunder. "What brings you to my domain?"

Acheron paused, realizing her mistake. "I thought this was the Southern Empire," she admitted with a hint of chagrin.

Velzard chuckled softly, amusement twinkling in her eyes. "You've traveled in the wrong direction, it seems."

(If you don't know, the icy realm where Velzard and Guy reside is the northernmost part of the Cardinal world.)

Acheron inclined her head in acknowledgment, her gaze flickering with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "What brings you here, Velzard?" she asked, her voice tinged with caution.

Velzard regarded her with a knowing look, her icy gaze penetrating to the core of Acheron's being. "I reside here," she explained, a playful edge to her tone. "And what about you? What errand has led you astray to my icy realm?" Velzard asked again not beliving Acheron being lost.

Before Acheron could respond, another figure stepped forward from the shadows, his presence commanding and unmistakable. It was Guy Crimson, the enigmatic Demon Lord whose path had crossed with Acheron's once before.

Acheron's jaw tightened at the sight of him, her gaze hardening with disdain. Despite his charismatic demeanor and playful antics, there was something about Guy Crimson that rubbed her the wrong way, his arrogant demeanor gating on her nerves.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Acheron, the always lost warrior," Guy Crimson exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Acheron's eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. "I have no business with you, Guy Crimson," she replied curtly, her tone as monotone as ever.

Guy Crimson chuckled, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, but I think you do," he countered, his gaze flickering with mischief. "How about a friendly little spar, just to pass the time?"

"I have no interest in your games, Guy Crimson," she retorted, her voice firm. "I came here accidentally and do not wish to indulge your childish whims."

With that, she turned on her heel and began to make her way towards the exit, her footsteps echoing through the cavern like a solemn dirge. Behind her, she could hear Guy Crimson's mocking laughter, his taunts echoing off the icy walls.

(End of a chapter)