Legend of Icaros

Icaros' flying figure tore through the space of the quiet island.

He stopped for a moment, his eyes mechanical and cold, as he scanned around with utmost focus.

Every detail zoomed in; everything was seen with clarity. Sure enough, he thought as he sighted it.

A mountain on the island, just like other jade ones around - but Icaros was not easily fooled.

Not even second-guessing, his figure shot forward, his arms outstretched in a flying motion.

Instead of him smashing into an actual mountain, as soon as his arm touched it, the rock transformed into a transparent light screen. But the force of Icaros' flight, combined with his insane strength and durability, tore through the light screen like paper, and with that, it faded away.

Stopping with a grin on his face, Icaros didn't need to look around, for his target was right ahead.

It was exactly where Icaros was looking, and where the light screen had been disguising the truth.

A man dressed as a swordsman sat in meditation in front of a newly built cottage, with three others surrounding it.

A sword was placed across his crossed legs, and his eyes were lightly closed. With blooming flowers scattered all around, it truly made for a tranquil scene.

Icaros was not the least bit affected by the so-called tranquility. He said coldly, "Come on, don't bullshit me with this monk stuff or whatever it is."

The man opened his eyes in reply, his voice flat and emotionless. "I am no monk, or whatever you think I am. I am..."

"A swordsman of the Heavenly Sword Sect," Icaros interrupted with a wicked grin.

While they were conversing, three youths made their way out of the other three cottages. They were clearly swordsmen, with swords strapped to their backs.

"I don't care who you are - you are indeed the one that destroyed our ship," Icaros continued, his eyes glowing faintly golden-yellow. "And you will pay for what you did."

By now, the three youths had gathered beside the man.

One of them, who emitted an aura of sharpness, spoke to the man with respect in his voice. "He doesn't seem like a cultivator. Should I dispose of him, Master?"

The man waved his hand before replying. "He is indeed strange - able to fly without being a cultivator. However, he is far too strong for you. I will deal with this myself."

While this exchange was going on, Icaros stared down at them, his eyes cold, although the glow had faded for the moment.

The man, clearly unwilling to let Icaros hold the upper position, tapped his foot and rose into the air without any external help, his sword now strapped to his back in its sheath.

He stopped when he reached the same height as Icaros, while his disciples watched with awe in their eyes.

Addressing Icaros, he said, "I do not know how you gained such power without walking the path of cultivation, but you could have simply enjoyed it in comfort. Instead, you have chosen death."

Icaros chuckled darkly. "You chose death too, the moment you destroyed our ship."

"I did what I had to do - for my own interests and for the good of my sect," the man replied, a hint of anger in his tone, though he quickly steadied himself and continued in a calm voice. "I could still allow you to live here. But if you insist on this meaningless quest, your only outcome will be death."

Icaros did not back down. "I made my choice when you made yours. But tell me... have you truly accepted yours?"

The man was now clearly agitated, and he spoke with rising anger. "You may possess some strange power, but I am an Extinction Realm cultivator - one who has shed mortal flaws and been reborn."

As if coming to a final decision, the man calmed himself and said, "It is a pity. You could have been useful."

"A pity indeed," Icaros replied with an evil smirk. And just when even the man's disciples least expected it -

Icaros unleashed his golden-yellow lasers directly at the man - an intense, continuous, unbroken beam, pouring steadily from his eyes.

Even the disciples could not help but gasp in shock. But their master lived up to his title; the instant the beam appeared, his sword was already drawn.

He turned the flat of his blade toward the light, positioning it perfectly to block as the intense golden-yellow stream struck directly against the metal. In that moment, his arm muscles bulged and his core tightened to withstand the force - yet even so, he was caught off guard. His body was sent flying backward, smashing hard into a jade mountain just beyond the cottage, and was buried beneath the rubble.

The disciples stood frozen, their jaws practically hitting the floor.

Icaros hovered there, an evil grin on his face and his eyes still blazing bright golden-yellow. He spoke in a cold, merciless tone: "Your turn."

Before the lead disciple - the one who had asked to deal with Icaros earlier - could even react, the beam shifted slightly. It pierced straight through his forehead, penetrating his skull and obliterating his brain. He was killed instantly.

The remaining two disciples felt a bone-chilling cold run down their spines. They drew their swords and stood ready, eyes fixed on Icaros. With his eyes glowing so fiercely, he looked less like a man and more like the god of death itself.

Just as they braced for the inevitable death to come, a voice rang out from the ruins - filled with grief, and burning rage.

"YOU HAVE CHOSEN... DEATH!!"

With a thunderous boom, the section of the jade mountain where the man had been buried exploded into countless pieces. The swordsman appeared amidst the debris in an instant, sword drawn and his entire being radiating deadly focus.

In the next second, he shot straight toward the floating Icaros, moving faster than the eye could follow. As he came, he swung his sword, releasing an arc of sword qi formed from pure spiritual energy - an attack carrying an aura that screamed one clear message: I will slice you to death.

Icaros was battle-ready and giving everything he had. He twisted his body slightly to dodge the initial arc, then surged straight toward the cultivator, his intense golden-yellow laser roaring out ahead of him - never breaking, never fading.

This time, the cultivator was prepared. He dipped lower, moving just under the direct line of the beam. As they closed the distance, he brought his sword around, once again turning the flat of the blade to face the relentless stream - a beam that held devastating power, cutting sharpness, and blistering heat all at once.

He slammed the broad surface directly into the energy flow, using all his physical strength and spiritual enhancement to push back against it. Pressing hard against the unbroken stream, he forced his way forward until his sword slammed straight into Icaros' approaching form, sending him flying backward to crash into the forest below, where trees snapped and shattered in his wake.

The two surviving disciples let out breaths they had not even realised they were holding, though relief was quickly replaced by worry for their master.

"That man... he is a monster," one whispered. The other nodded in silent agreement.

Seizing the advantage, the cultivator launched himself into the air and shot toward where Icaros had fallen. He raised his sword high, preparing to strike the killing blow - and with his divine sense locked firmly onto his enemy, he knew he could not miss.

But Icaros was focused and operating at full capacity; he did not fail. He shifted position at superhuman speed, aided by the fact that he was already hovering just above the ground. His eyes locked straight onto the cultivator, and then - he unleashed his beam once more.

Holding absolutely nothing back, he directed the laser straight at the swordsman, aiming to stop the deadly strike in its tracks.

Sensing the lethal power contained within the beam, the cultivator dove sideways to evade it, abandoning his killing blow. Then he entered what could only be described as super slash mode - his blade moving so fast it blurred completely. Visible strain showed on his face and body as he wove his spiritual energy into a dense net of sword qi slashes high in the air above. The entire formation, powered by pure spirit energy, descended rapidly, bringing death raining down upon Icaros.

Icaros, now burning with the thirst of battle, looked straight up. His eyes were still blazing with that same intense golden-yellow light. He shot directly upward through the falling attacks, his continuous beam carving a clear path ahead like a spear of pure destruction.

BOOM!

He burst right through, and where he had stood only moments before, a massive mushroom cloud rose up - formed from the impact of the remaining attacks, hiding all the destruction beneath it.

He did not pause for even a second. His intense golden-yellow beam slammed directly into the cultivator. The man quickly brought his sword up, blocking once again with the flat of the blade - but the sheer force of the never-ending stream sent him flying high into the sky, tumbling uncontrollably.

Icaros paused briefly, hovering in place. His body was now crisscrossed with thin, deep gashes - lines left by the sword that had torn through skin and dug into muscle.

Slowly, red blood began to seep out from all over his body. His durability, which had protected him against countless attacks in the past, had finally been overcome by the overwhelming power of an Extinction Realm cultivator.

The man steadied himself in mid-air, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, and smirked coldly. "This is just the beginning."

Icaros did not reply with a single word. He simply tore off his tattered upper robe, revealing the cuts and bleeding wounds covering his chest and back. Clenching his fists tight until his knuckles turned white, he launched himself toward the cultivator once again - and the fight to the death raged on with even greater ferocity.

Hidden in a small bush not far away was the young man who had woken on the shore earlier - the same one who had fought against the island guards and been taken down by their captain. He was now fully healed. He crouched there, concealed, with the captain standing just behind him, his face etched with deep worry as he watched the battle unfolding above. The young man could only think one desperate thought:

Would he survive?