Srrng-

A hand extends forward.
The tip of the raised sword swings smoothly as if responding to it.

A space shrouded in darkness, barely visible.
In the midst of it, the old man's sword glimmers with light.

For a martial artist, darkness is hardly an obstacle.
Eyes imbued with inner energy could pierce even that.

Whish-!

Kwooo-!

With a single swing of the sword, a whirlwind surges.
Wind gathers at the toes grounding his stance.
The footwork becomes a storm.

Crackle.

Next, lightning merges with the wind.
After four or five swings of the …