Extra’s Path: The Eternal Frost Monarch Chapter 64

Noah stood in the middle of the room.

He decided to use a sword for learning this art.

Frozen Lotus Blade Art was an art that could be performed by any weapon that had a blade.

Be it a sword, spear, axe, dagger, or scythe, etc. No matter which weapon it might be, as long as it had a blade to cut, the blade art could be used with those weapons.

’It has eight petals…’ Noah thought while trying to understand this art.

He had gotten all the information about this blade art. It was divided into eight forms. Each form was called by the number of petals.

Such as the first form.

Frozen Lotus Blade Art: First Petal – Dewdrop Stance

’Alright, let’s do it…’

The first form focused more on stance rather than strike.

It was not meant to fight with. It was meant to prepare for the fight. The stance itself was the technique. The way the body was positioned, the way breathing was controlled, the way mana flowed inward rather than outward. All of that was the skill being practiced.

Noah exhaled softly.

He stood still on his feet, the sword held in his right hand.

Before the lotus blooms. It gathers water.

That’s what this form meant. Noah couldn’t understand what it actually entailed.

He decided to perform it.

The instructions were simple enough. Hold the blade with both hands, gripping the hilt firmly. Position it back and downward behind the body, tip pointing backward or downward toward the ground. Body turned slightly sideways. Weight distributed and ready to launch forward.

It worked the same for other weapons. They just needed to hold it slightly downward behind them.

Noah shifted his feet. Left foot forward. Right foot back. He brought the sword back and down behind his right side.

Both hands were on the hilt now, grip firm, blade angled low so the tip aimed toward the floor. He turned his shoulders slightly sideways. Bent his knees.

Noah breathed in slowly through his nose.

’Now draw the mana inward.’

He reached for his ice affinity the way the manual instructed. Not pushing outward the way he always had, but pulling inward.

Gathering. The cool pressure that lived in his core, that familiar sensation he had carried for many years like a stone kept close, he tried to redirect it. He aimed it toward his right shoulder. Coaxed it downward through his arm.

It did not move.

He breathed out. Breathed in again. Then he tried harder.

The mana sat in his core like it always did, present, aware, completely uninterested in his instructions, at least for now.

He exhaled sharply through his teeth.

He reset his stance. His shoulders back. Sword in a low position. He was in complete stillness.

He tried again, this time less demanding and more patient. Not ordering the mana to move but simply… opening a path for it. Imagining his right arm as a channel rather than a destination.

Then something shifted.

It was faint. Barely noticeable to him. Like the first movement of air before a breeze decided what it wanted to be.

The cool pressure in his core stirred.

It moved, slowly, reluctantly.

Noah held his breath without meaning to.

’Don’t break it. Don’t even think too hard. Just let it move.’

The sensation crept down his upper arm. Slow as frost forming on glass. Past his elbow. Into his forearm.

He could feel it not as heat or pain, but as a deepening coolness. It felt like his arm was slowly sinking into cold water.

His grip tightened instinctively on the hilt, and the sensation stuttered and hesitated.

’Relax the hands.’

He loosened his grip slightly. Just enough.

The mana moved into the hilt.

And then into the blade.

It was subtle, quieter than he expected. He had imagined it would feel dramatic somehow.

Something like a surge and a rush. Something that announced itself. Instead, it felt like the sword was simply drinking from him. A slow, quiet pull he barely noticed until he paid attention to it.

The mana settled into the metal of the sword slowly over time. Just the way cold settles into a room when a window is left open.

It was a gradual process.

A bead of frost. Tiny, smaller than a raindrop, clinging to the metal tip the way a dewdrop clings to the end of a leaf in the early morning before the sun decides its fate.

One small, perfect bead of ice on a plain steel sword in an empty training chamber.

Noah stared at it.

His concentration broke completely.

The mana dissolved instantly. The ice he had formed turned into particles.

The sword was just a sword again, chipped near the base, loose grip wrap, no history.

Noah straightened up slowly. His thighs ached.

His right arm felt faintly numb from shoulder to wrist. He had been holding the stance for maybe a minute in total and had successfully channeled mana for the first time.

He stood there in the room, looking at the tip of his plain, ordinary borrowed sword.

Then he laughed, short and quiet, barely a sound at all, more breath than voice.

“Haha! It… might be easier than I thought… but I need to train it daily.”

One minute. One tiny bead of frost. Nothing that would impress anyone. Nothing worth mentioning to a single person alive.

But the mana had produced ice.

Not by using his ability. But he had created this purely through mana.

Then he sighed.

At the peak level of the Dormant Core. That was Dormant Core High, a person could cover their weapon with the element they had affinity with.

Noah was still not capable of doing that.

This stance worked on the same principle of using one’s element to coat their weapon.

But there was something different here.

Unlike how ice users could cover their weapon with ice and sharpen it, turning it stronger and more durable with enhanced sharpness.

Here, he could perform something more than just that. That was what made this first stance more useful.

’Also… it’s like a basic form of this art… the easiest form of this blade art, which is also important to learn the next forms.’

“I cannot wait to see the effect of this form.”

It had worked.

Badly, briefly, and barely. But it had worked somehow.

He rolled his neck. Settled his feet back into position. Left foot forward. Right foot back. Sword low and behind him, tip toward the ground.

Both hands on the plain, worn hilt of a sword.

He breathed in once more.

And continued his training.