The Broken Halo

Simon, Korran, and Tarvak stood at the centre of an empty training facility behind the northern gatehouse.

The training room was large enough for dozens of guards to train at once. Reinforced black stone covered the walls and floor, while pale formation lines ran through the four corners to prevent powerful attacks from damaging the surrounding buildings.

Korran looked around before turning toward Simon.

"Is this enough space for your demonstration?" he asked, a faint mixture of suspicion and mockery entering his tone. "Or should Tarvak clear half of the northern district?"

Simon ignored the tone and nodded.

"It will do."

He walked several steps away from them, then glanced over his shoulder.

"You should move back."

Tarvak raised a brow, and so did Korran.

Neither demon believed a technique performed by a Supreme Archfiend would place them in serious danger. Tarvak was a Prime Greater Demon, while Korran stood at the Superior stage.

However, the technique had supposedly injured a Half-Step Abyssal Beast, and that alone was enough for both demons to oblige.

They moved toward the edge of the central training area.

Simon stopped and closed his eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the air around his boots shifted.

A thin current moved in a circle across the floor. Another descended from above, while several smaller streams entered through the vents near the ceiling. Dust rose and began orbiting Simon without touching his body.

His dirty white hair lifted, and the burned edges of his coat fluttered.

The currents became faster, but strangely, the centre around Simon remained calm.

Half a metre behind his upper spine, the wind compressed into a dark-green point. It was small, dense, and heavy enough to make the air around it bend.

The Storm Throne.

Korran’s mocking expression disappeared the moment he saw the wind gathering around Simon.

The first crown formed vertically behind Simon’s upper body.

It was a pale-green wind curved into a broad rotating ring that was rising above his head and descending below his waist.

The Gale Crown.

The second appeared diagonally from the upper left to the lower right. Its wind was brighter, and thin silver edges flashed along it whenever it rotated.

The Rending Crown.

The third crossed in the opposite direction.

It was darker, thicker, and moved with enough pressure to make the reinforced floor groan beneath Simon’s feet.

The Crushing Crown.

Simon deliberately made all three much larger than their proper size.

The Gale Crown towered behind him. The Rending and Crushing Crowns stretched so widely that their outer edges crossed several metres of empty space on either side.

Though they looked terrifying, doing this was inefficient in Simon’s opinion.

More wind escaped from their edges than necessary, and maintaining their enlarged forms consumed more demonic energy without increasing their true power by the same amount.

Simon knew that.

But he was not trying to use the Fury Tempest Art efficiently. He wanted Korran and Tarvak to believe that the Fury Tempest Art was terrifying.

The three crowns rotated at different angles and speeds around the Storm Throne. Where their paths intersected, six small regions of complete stillness appeared.

The Silent Nodes.

The wind screamed everywhere else, yet those six points remained so quiet that they felt like holes cut into the storm.

Tarvak’s coat pulled toward Simon.

Korran felt the air around his arms divide into three conflicting movements. One current tried to drag him forward, another moved across his skin with a sharpness that could become a blade, while the last pressed downward with increasing weight.

Neither demon was harmed.

But both felt what each crown was meant to become.

"This is not a single technique," Tarvak said quietly.

Korran’s eyes followed the rotating crowns.

"No. It is a system."

The three did not operate separately.

They shared the Storm Throne, crossed through the SilentNodes, and adjusted to one another with every rotation. If one crown moved too quickly or shifted by the wrong angle, the entire formation could collapse upon the user.

Tarvak’s expression became increasingly stunned.

"How is an Archfiend performing something this complex?"

Korran did not answer immediately.

"His wind affinity," he eventually said. "His High S-grade affinity is helping him feel and control every current."

That was not wrong, but Korran knew an affinity alone could not explain this.

A high affinity gave Simon more wind to feel and greater natural control over it. It did not teach him how to maintain three enormous rotating structures, six Silent Nodes, and one central pressure point at the same time.

Simon had either practised the art far more than he admitted, or his comprehension was every bit as abnormal as his talent.

Tarvak watched for several more seconds, then he asked loud enough for Simon to hear.

"Is that all there is to the Fury Tempest Art?"

There was no mockery in his voice now.

Only curiosity.

Simon opened his sky-blue eyes and a faint smile touched his lips.

"I would prefer to keep my trump cards and secrets to myself."

Tarvak did not press him.

If Simon had truly obtained an art of this level from a gambling rock, then his luck was almost offensive and disgustingly outrageous.

For a brief moment, the thought of forcefully taking the technique appeared in Tarvak’s mind.

But he discarded it.

He had no wind affinity, so the inheritance would likely be useless to him. More importantly, Simon’s supposed hidden background, rare artifacts, and unknown abilities made attempting to rob him far more dangerous than it first appeared.

Korran’s thoughts travelled in another direction.

He recalled Simon’s performance during the recruitment tests.

The unnatural control.

The ease with which he defeated his opponents.

The composure he displayed even when facing demons above his recorded rank.

At the time, Korran had believed Simon was merely an exceptional Minor Archfiend.

Now he understood that Blackmoon had hidden far more than his heart rank.

Korran tried to evaluate his true combat strength.

The enlarged crowns wasted energy, but Simon’s reserves were unusually deep. His control reduced losses that would cripple another Archfiend, and the crowns could influence movement, cutting force, pressure, offence, and defence simultaneously.

Simon could certainly contend with a Minor Greater Demon, but Korran decided to push the estimate further.

’In the worst reasonable scenario, Blackmoon might defeat a Prime Greater Demon after a long and arduous battle.’

Just as he had this thought, Korran’s eyes briefly moved toward Tarvak.

’And depending on what other artifacts and hidden techniques Blackmoon possesses, he might even be capable of killing the Guard Commander.’

Then Korran’s thoughts went farther.

Could Simon possess a final trump card capable of killing him?

Perhaps not.

But grievously injuring him?

Korran could no longer dismiss that possibility.

One part of his mind told him he was overreacting.

Simon was still an Archfiend, and he was a Superior Greater Demon. The difference was far too high.

Yet another part of him watched the three crowns turning around the sixteen-year-old demon and quietly warned him.

Danger

Korran had survived long enough to know better than to ignore his instincts.

Countless thoughts passed through his mind as he stared at Simon, then his lips parted.

"Who are you truly?"

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