Kyrie Ironhowl's Arc

Chapter 1 of 13

Kyrie stood in front of the exhibition hall's window, staring at her rival's blade. The competition was still two weeks away, but he'd shipped it early for public display. Typical showmanship. She pressed closer to the glass, studying the curve of the fuller, the angle of the edge bevel. Her chest went tight. The blade was designed exactly like hers — built to exploit the same structural weakness she'd spent two years finding in his previous work. The obsidian broadsword gleamed under the display lights, its glossy black surface catching every angle. She traced the edge geometry with her eyes. There. The bevel started shallow and deepened toward the tip, exactly where his last blade had cracked under stress testing. He'd figured it out too. Her hands curled into fists against the cold glass. Two years of work, and he'd reached the same conclusion in what — six months? Maybe less. She turned away from the window, her jaw tight. Her strategy wasn't ruined, but it wasn't hers alone anymore. This year wouldn't be about exposing his weakness. It would be about who executed the solution better.