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”This planet keeps perplexing me,” Ell’Hakan spoke as he spun his trident, leaving trails of flames behind it. ”The information on you was limited. I genuinely expected those two to be capable of killing you, and even if they failed, to at least put you out of commission for a good while. It appears I was way off.”

”To reach for true power is to subvert fate and expectations,” Miyamoto simply spoke as water droplets formed around him as if it rained around him.

Ell’Hakan responded by sending out a wave of golden flames as the sunlight above intensified. Several golden orbs appeared in the sky, all of them burning with deep flames. The Sword Saint countered as a thin mirror of water appeared and blocked out the flames entirely.

The nahoom had taken this brief chance to move as he turned into golden flames and appeared further back. Rising into the air, a magic circle appeared above him as he pointed towards the Sword Saint.

He wanted to move, but Miyamoto suddenly found space itself acting up. Like he got separated from reality itself.

”I must apologize, but I simply do not have the time to be fighting you right now,” Ell’Hakan spoke. ”Please be so kind as to begone.”

The magic circle above him intensified in energy. Miyamoto had heard of this, and even if it was far weaker than what was used on Jake, it was still a very potent skill.

“Celestial Alignment of Yore.”

Everything spun as the Sword Saint was sent flying. While in the air, he pointed his blade forward and closed his eyes. A plane of water condensed as he inserted his sword into it. Colors began to appear on the plane, and soon it depicted plains with a lonely small house sitting in the middle. The painting was not made from memory but one he had painstakingly painted only the day before.

Miyamoto willed the plane of water to move as he also stepped into it, appearing standing on the plains only a few hundred meters from where he had been before, a confused Ell’Hakan whipping around to see him stand there.

”I must also apologize,” Miyamoto said, not a hint of being sorry in his voice. ”My hobby happens to be painting.”

”That was not space magic,” Ell’Hakan said with a frown.

”No, it was not,” Miyamoto spoke.

”Then was it-”

The Sword Saint charged forward without answering as water condensed around his blade. Ell’Hakan frowned even more as he was forced to block and sent backward. Miyamoto did not give him time to rest as the water droplets condensed even more around the tip of his blade as he stabbed forward.

A single droplet was shot forward, drawing the first blood of their battle. A thin cut tore through Ell’Hakan’s robe and left a slit on the side of his arm. Miyamoto moved to attack again, but his opponent’s body language made him reconsider as he stepped down hard and jumped back.

Just in time, too, as a massive beam of sunlight shot down and left a huge scorch mark just where he would have been standing. Opening his eyes wide, the Sword Saint swept his blade upwards and sent out a crescent wave of water that encountered another massive beam.

It was cut in two, leaving him unscathed as the water refracted the light. However, even so, Ell’Hakan was clearly done playing around. A dense aura of heat spread from him as the plains themselves were set ablaze. The sun seemed to almost turn entirely red as the sky above resonated with the burning plains below.

”This time, I genuinely apologize. I shall take you seriously.”

The sun above pulsed as a wave of red light descended upon the plains. Miyamoto opened his eyes wide as suddenly the sun seemed to disappear from the sky above, only to reappear below the horizon far behind Ell’Hakan.

”Sunrise.”

A blast of flames forced Miyamoto back. A barrier of water protected him as he smiled. He landed on the ground and shifted his stance as he held the handle of his blade with both hands. His boosting skill activated as he also got serious.

”Rainblade.”

Water met fire as their two domains clashed. Ell’Hakan turned into red flames as he stormed forward, the Sword Saint responding in kind. They exchanged several blows, the Sword Saint slowly winning out as the nahoom was pushed back.

So far, the only wound given had been that minor cut, but that all changed now. Several small scratches began to appear on Ell’Hakan, but Miyamoto did not relax. The gaze of his foe was calm and collected. He did not panic in the slightest, even as he took a cut on his shoulder, forcing him to retreat.

Swiping his blade, the Sword Saint sent a long crescent wave of water out, making Ell’Hakan vault over it. He pointed his trident forward and shot a condensed beam of light, singeing the Sword Saint’s left arm slightly as he failed to dodge in time.

Not feeling deterred, he moved forward again and pointed his blade.

“Ten Thousand Droplets.”

As he willed, ten thousand small droplets appeared and shot forward. A vast wall of red flames met them, evaporating most, but some got through as Ell’Hakan was hit and stumbled back with dozens of minor puncture wounds covering his chest.

Yet he seemed relatively unbothered. The trident moved again as the middle of the three forks lit up. The sun behind him then began rising as the temperature rose, and the sky itself began burning. An endless inferno descended upon the old man as he met it with the serenity of an undisturbed lake.

Water whirled around his sword as Rainblade made his sword an instrument of the element itself. He slashed as a wave of water appeared that rapidly multiplied and countered the fire descending towards him. In the same fluid movement, he positioned his blade and blocked the trident of Ell’Hakan, feeling that the alien had gotten even stronger than before.

Physically, the Sword Saint was perhaps superior, but Ell’Hakan did not simply rely on his physical stats. Every attack was infused with a powerful concept. Not that the Sword Saint found himself on the backfoot due to this.

Their weapons flew through the air and clashed multiple times. Miyamoto analyzed his opponent and slowly began to once more gain the upper hand. With an upwards strike, he made Ell’Hakan attempt to dodge, but the blade pivoted to the side and turned the slash into a sideway sweep.

The alien tried to teleport, but droplets of water had landed upon him to restrict his movements ever-so-slightly. The blade sank into the side of Ell’Hakan, but he managed to turn to flames, leaving a spray of blood in his wake.

He appeared again a few hundred meters away, his side entirely cut up. His left lumbar was halfway cut through in what would have been a lethal blow pre-system. Miyamoto considered charging again but held himself back.

“The sharpness of that blade… you cut through my bones like they were nothing,” Ell’Hakan spoke in a contemplating tone. “I wonder, why is someone like you working for the Malefic’s Chosen? What do you have to gain by doing so?”

The Sword Saint just smirked a bit to himself as he sheathed his blade. “What do you have to gain by invading the planet of another Chosen? Much less one who has nothing to do with you. You are the only one who chose to make an enemy, not him. In my eyes, the questionable decisions in this entire conflict are one-sided. There is an aggressor and a defender, with the natural inclination of man being to side with the defender.”

Ell’Hakan looked at the Sword Saint a bit more before shaking his head. “You have no reason beyond personal sentiment? Do you honestly see your clan thrive more under the oppressive rule of the Order of the Malefic Viper compared to the United Cities Alliance? An alliance that is even protected by Valhal from outside forces. Meanwhile, the Order tends to make the areas they control living hells for those not part of their cult.”

“I fail to comprehend the purpose of your words,” Miyamoto smiled. “He who stands before you is nothing more than a simple lone swordsman. Order, Alliance, gods. Nothing else matters when two warriors meet. Unless you choose to continue this meeting as non-warriors, then cease your needless words. I say this assuming you came here as a warrior, to begin with, of course.”

The nahoom’s smile faded as Miyamoto knew something was coming. Underestimating his foe was something he would never do, and he prepared to draw.

Ell’Hakan raised his trident towards the sky. A beam of light descended upon him as Miyamoto saw the air shimmer. His water droplets began to evaporate, and his skin burned as the temperature rose even more than before. Up in the sky, the sun now hung right above his head.

“Scorching Noon.”

Miyamoto also exploded with power as he fully activated his boosting skill to stave off the constant exposure. Ell’Hakan also clearly did something similar as his skin began glowing orange. The plains – now entirely clean of vegetation - also glowed, and the Sword Saint felt the area itself feed whatever skill the alien was using.

Fighting a foe in their territory is always more complicated.

Taking a stance, the Sword Saint drew his blade once more and, with the draw, released a torrent of water as if he had just opened a floodgate. The nahoom was taken by surprise and sent blasting back as Miyamoto followed the flow of water and made a downward cut.

His blade encountered the trident, making the feet of his foe embedded in the ground from the impact. The water covering his body allowed Miyamoto to ignore the sunlight for now, but he felt the draw on his resources.

Ell’Hakan responded as the trident seemed to explode, sending Miyamoto back a few steps. Refusing to lose momentum, the old man attacked again but was blocked. Blocked and countered. His speed fell behind his foe as he took a minor cut on the arm and another minor scratch on his thigh. Both wounds burned with golden flames, forcing him to expend even more energy putting them out.

Yet he attacked again. The flow of water was relentless, and so was he. After dodging an attack, he found an opening and stabbed forward. The blade extended and penetrated into his foe, but as it was just a blade of water, it failed to cut through bone.

Ell’Hakan groaned and stumbled back as his eyes burned. He raised the trident and slammed it into the ground with both hands.

“Ember Chains.”

The flames all around the old man suddenly condensed and formed chains as they came from all directions. He cut through several, but two managed to wrap around his one leg, tethering him to the ground and burning him.

“Sunwrath.”

The entire world seemed to turn golden at that very moment. From above, a massive pillar of pure light and fire descended upon the lone swordsman as he stood chained. He knew it was too late to dodge, so he used one of his rare defensive skills just as the attack hit.

Sunlight seared into the ground as everything around it burned, yet no one was caught within.

Miyamoto landed on the ground a few dozen meters to the left of it while taking a deep tired breath. He had many nasty burns all over his body, and what little hair he had was already seared off. Where he had landed was where he had been only ten or so seconds ago.

“Time magic,” Ell’Hakan recognized out loud. “Who the hell are you really?”

“A swordsman,” Miyamoto simply answered. This did not please his opponent as another dozen or so, albeit far weaker, sunbeams shot down from the sky aimed at the old man. Not seeing himself be outdone, he also began releasing ranged attacks, putting the alien on the defensive and leaving a few cuts here and there on his body.

He felt a hint of tiredness from constantly fighting under the intense sunlight, and he knew his foe was also getting tired. He knew by now he had more than fulfilled his task, and Ms. Wells had already tried to contact him once.

The old man had not answered, but he knew the outcome. One attempt to contact meant victory, two meant it was a draw, and three would have meant failure. Seeing as they had won, there was truly no reason but his own hubris to continue the fight.

But had Jake not said a bit more selfishness was healthy? If so, the old man would relish this opportunity to face a strong foe and show him that he, too, had not stopped growing stronger. A Chosen was a multiversally recognized title only given to supreme talents. Something many also apparently considered him. Miyamoto found it weird to call himself a talent, considering it was usually a title given to juniors, but he still wanted to prove himself.

For the longest time, he had been resistant to having a Patron. Aeon, the Primordial of Time, convinced him that his stance was, in many ways, nonsensical. A Patron did not need to be someone you worshipped as much as they could be subtle guiding lights. Moreover, the Sword Saint had found that he and his new Patron was more alike than one would perhaps expect.

While he had not taught Miyamoto much, the old man had learned a few things. The concept of time was vast and neverending, and comprehending the nomological was as much about understanding yourself and your goals as it was understanding the world. In the same way, it also requires one to understand their position within this world.

Miyamoto knew he was a man that arguably should not even be alive. He had seen death more than once, and each time he had overcome it, or it just hadn’t been his time yet. He had been granted one more season. After his fight with Jake, he realized that in this changed world, it was no longer about accepting what you had been granted and making the best use of it. It was as much about taking from the world.

His realizations had led to enlightenment and Transcendence. A Transcendence was viewed as the pinnacle of what one could achieve, but Miyamoto knew that wasn’t the case. Nothing could ever be truly perfect, and there was nothing that could not be honed. Nothing that could not be trained with and be used in different ways.

This was the second thing his Patron had taught him. A Transcendence was far more than a single skill. It was a gateway and a Path. A recognition from the world itself.

Ell’Hakan regarded him as the alien levitated into the air. Miyamoto knew something big was coming, but he did not hold any fear. He sheathed his blade and bent his knees as he got into position.

“Well then, swordsman,” Ell’Hakan spoke. “Please also assess me as I assess you. Shatter my expectations more.”

His words were not spoken in a tone of mockery. There was genuine respect in his voice, and his request was not a joke either.

The old man would oblige.

In the sky above, the sun turned entirely red. The sky was bathed orange, and the world was set aflame. The only place untouched in the plains was a small bubble around the Sword Saint as he stood with closed eyes, focusing.

All of the fire and heat then began condensing above the floating figure. A second celestial object slowly formed as a small sun was born. Ell’Hakan’s entire body burned as he stabbed his trident into it, turning it entirely golden.

Lowering the spear, the sun followed as it began descending towards the Sword Saint like a giant fireball of certain destruction.

“Sunfall.”

The heat was overwhelming, and the soil and sand all around the old swordsman began to change. Small pits of lava appeared, the sand turned to glass, and everything that couldn’t burn melted. Yet as everything was at the zenith… the sky darkened.

A drop of water fell upon the lava that had formed, turning it into black obsidian. Clouds appeared and blotted out the sun as the Sword Saint changed. His wrinkled hand turned smooth, black hair grew from his temples, and for a moment in time, he was in the prime of his youth.

“Glimpse of Spring: Stormcut.”

He unsheathed his blade as the heavens shook and the clouds parted.