How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Chapter 471: Lighting Degree 7

A few hundred meters away from Riley, an old man knelt at the edge of a cliff — though anyone looking at him wouldn’t think of him as “old.”

His youthful features were misleading, a side effect of years spent refining his body beyond what was humanly possible.

Still, the weight of his presence made it clear: this was no ordinary man.

His arms were folded, posture calm, but his sharp eyes were locked on the young man training below.

As they narrowed, their dark hue shifted ever so slightly, tinged with purple — and faint streaks of lightning began dancing around his body in response, flickering like restless sparks.

Down in the forest, Riley moved like a blur.

Trees, snow, terrain — he dashed past all of it with sharp precision and speed, but to Beon Gyeoul… it was all in slow motion.

Just like any other of his many descendants practicing his technique.

And yet… this time felt different.

He didn’t usually give this much attention.

Not even to those he had personally acknowledged as worthy of using the Hidden Blade Technique.

But today — his focus was fully, completely on the boy below.

Then, beside him, a soft voice broke the silence.

“My~ isn’t he quite surprising, Clan Head.”

It was light and teasing, but laced with curiosity.

Bom Gyeoul had approached silently, like the breeze itself.

His eldest granddaughter.

Her foxlike red eyes were half-lidded in amusement as she followed his gaze, her long crimson hair trailing behind her, caught in the faint wind stirred by Riley’s explosive training.

She didn’t say much more — she didn’t need to.

Her tone carried it all. Interest, amusement, maybe even a bit of disbelief.

Beon didn’t look at her. His gaze remained fixed on Riley as he let out a quiet breath, arms still folded.

“Seo said the boy just naturally picked up the technique after training with her a bit,” Bom murmured, her voice calm but tinged with disbelief. “But… even I didn’t expect this level of progress. I thought we’d be seeing a rough, half-baked imitation — maybe even a spin-off technique using the Hidden Blade as a base.”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Riley move again through the forest.

“But not just the first form… the second… and even the third. His form isn’t just good — it’s perfect. If not for his impractical choice of weapon, wouldn’t you say he looks like a textbook disciple, Clan Head?”

“…He’s better than expected,” Beon finally muttered.

Bom smiled, amused by how reluctant he sounded.

“Fufu~ now that’s a rare kind of praise, coming from you. Didn’t you say he was a fraud just a day ago?”

“…I admit,” Beon said after a brief silence, “my initial judgment may have been… a lapse in emotion.”

Bom chuckled quietly. Her grandfather was many things — cold, disciplined, intimidating — but when it came to owning up to his mistakes, he had his moments.

Looking down at Riley again, Bom found herself drawn in.

The way he moved, the way he handled the technique — sharp, elegant, deliberate. It reminded her of someone.

The way he carried himself with subtle pride and focused energy.

There was no hesitation in his footwork, no waste in his strikes. It was almost… nostalgic.

“…He reminds you of someone, doesn’t he?” she asked softly, not turning to face him.

Beon didn’t answer, but the slight shift in his eyes said enough.

He didn’t want to say it out loud — maybe he couldn’t — but he knew exactly who she meant.

The way Riley moved.

The way he layered his mana not just on his sword but into the flow of his movement.

The way his eyes scanned the environment, reading everything except his actual target — as if his instincts had already locked onto the outcome.

It was the very same thing he had once seen in his beloved granddaughter.

Seo — the prodigy of the Gyeoul Clan. The one who had inherited the technique not just by blood, but in spirit.

And now, somehow, this boy… was walking in her shadow — or maybe beside it.

Watching Riley perform the 4th form down below, Beon Gyeoul’s usually composed expression twitched — just slightly — at the corner of his eye.

He had expected something decent.

Perhaps, like Bom, he figured the boy would manage the first form well enough.

After all, the first form was just one clean, decisive slash — a foundation for everything else.

With Riley’s potential, it wasn’t unreasonable to expect him to grasp that much.

But to see the boy go beyond that — not only executing the second and third forms with precision, but now… even the fourth?

That was something far beyond even Beon’s expectations.

Still, his surprise didn’t end there.

Just as Beon narrowed his gaze, the atmosphere suddenly shifted.

“My~ My~ is he…?” Bom whispered next to him, her voice caught between awe and disbelief.

But she didn’t finish her thought — because in the next instant, the world itself seemed to pause.

The wind stilled. The forest hushed. Even time felt like it skipped a beat.

Then, without warning — VOOOSHHHH—!!

A deep, violet slash carved the world in half.

The light vanished.

Everything before Riley was cleaved open — air, stone, and even the very ground beneath him were utterly destroyed.

The lingering pulse of mana crackled in the air like the aftermath of a god’s judgment.

Purplish lightning danced across the devastation like an echo refusing to die.

It wasn’t just powerful.

It was precise. Measured. Controlled.

The final form of the Hidden Blade Technique — [Null Space] — had been performed.

Bom’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

Her eyes, usually lidded and unreadable, widened slightly as shock overtook her composure.

The weight of what she just witnessed was not lost on her — not even for a second.

That form… that final form…

It wasn’t something one could simply replicate with enough mana or raw strength.

No, it demanded far more than that.

One had to see beyond the wall — to break through the veil of perception itself, to understand not just the techniques but the essence behind them.

It was a convergence of all previous forms, an act that combined aura control, mana flow, movement theory, and a spiritual detachment from the very reality one intended to cut through.

The final form was not just a technique.

It was a state of being.

Until now, only three people had ever performed it flawlessly: the clan head himself, her father, and her cherished younger sister — Seo.

And now… him.

Bom slowly turned her gaze back to Beon, whose stern expression had grown unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes still locked on the boy standing amidst the wreckage.

She couldn’t tell what her grandfather was thinking — whether he was proud, or troubled.

But one thing was clear.

The boy wasn’t just someone who learned the Hidden Blade Technique.

He was someone who was born to wield it.

Watching as the last arcs of violet lightning danced around Riley, Beon Gyeoul narrowed his eyes.

The sparks weren’t ordinary — they were remnants of a technique only someone with his bloodline should’ve been capable of producing.

That fact alone caused a storm of conflicting thoughts within him.

Slowly, the old man rose to his feet from his position atop the cliff, the wind whispering through his dark ponytail as power began to hum faintly around him.

“Bom,” he said, his voice calm yet heavy with intent. “You delivered the letter to the boy, correct?”

“Yes, Clan Head,” Bom replied smoothly, without turning her gaze from Riley, who remained in the field below, standing amidst the scorched earth like a lone statue after a divine catastrophe.

Beon nodded, silently acknowledging what Riley’s presence here truly meant.

He had come — not hidden, not hesitated. Out in the open, accepting the letter, and in turn, its meaning.

Even if the boy hadn’t spoken a single word of acceptance, this was confirmation enough.

“…Then he accepts the duel,” Beon muttered under his breath. “Good.”

And if by some chance Riley had not understood the true meaning behind the challenge… then Beon had other methods in mind — ones far less formal than a duel, and perhaps, far more painful.

After all, it wasn’t just about technique anymore.

The boy had managed to catch the innocent heart of his most precious granddaughter — a matter the Gyeoul clan head could not overlook lightly.

…

“You’re not coming?”

“Unfortunately… no,”

“Oh? are you that confident in your future son-in-law?”

“While I do admit I’m a bit worried… trust me, Beon — my ‘son’ will surprise you in more ways than one.”

….

Beon scoffed — not out of mockery, but because he realized something that irritated and amused him at once.

Luther’s words… they might actually come true.

Still, regardless of talent, potential, or even love… in the end, none of it mattered if the boy couldn’t withstand what came next.

The trial ahead wasn’t just about combat — it was about surviving lightning itself.

A degree of power only those who had truly stepped into the realm of natural forces could control.

The air began to grow heavier.

A low rumble echoed across the sky as purple lightning slowly crackled around Beon’s figure, the crackling energy snaking along his limbs like living serpents.

His dark hair fluttered, then began to shift — streaks of violet surging through it, until his entire figure was lit by a faint electric glow.

His eyes flashed — no longer dark, but now brimming with flickering arcs of electricity that mirrored the skies themselves.

He turned toward Bom.

“Make sure no one interferes.”

“…Not even the Grand Duke?”

Beon’s eyes narrowed at that, his voice cold and almost teasing. “Luther won’t kill you… so do try.”

Bom’s lips curved into a subtle smirk. “Understood, Clan Head.”

BZZZZZT—!!!

VOOOOMMMMM—!!!

In a violent burst of purple light, Beon Gyeoul disappeared into the sky — a jagged bolt of lightning arcing downward, tearing through the heavens with an ear-shattering crack. In the distance, he slammed into the ground before Riley, the impact carving a crater into the earth and sending a shockwave that rippled through the forest.

Dust and debris scattered like petals in a storm, the sky briefly illuminated by his arrival.

Bom stood still on the cliffside, her red hair swaying in the artificial wind stirred by the explosion.

Her fox-like eyes gleamed as she watched her grandfather descend, and her gaze drifted toward Riley, who hadn’t even flinched.

He hadn’t reacted.

Not even when the Clan Head himself had struck down from the heavens like divine judgment.

Bom’s smile widened, licking her lips slightly — not from desire, but intrigue.

A fox-like grin crept across her face, sly and knowing.

Now I see it.

She could feel it in her chest now — what Seo must’ve felt that day.

That subtle, undeniable pull.

That quiet, dangerous charm.

Now, she understood just a little more about how her ever-beloved little sister might’ve fallen so deeply for this boy named Riley.