Reborn as a Devouring Dragon with a System
Chapter 166: Comprehension (2)

Chapter 166: Comprehension (2)

It does not arrive with thunder.

It does not scream.

It does not rage.

It does not force its way forward.

Light simply appears.

Not summoned.

Not born.

Not created.

It was always there.

Waiting.

Beneath shadow, beneath silence, beneath the veil of unknowing—

Light waits.

Not to be praised.

Not to be feared.

But to be seen.

Light is not a flare.

It is a revelation.

It does not boast.

It does not warn.

It simply exists... and in existing, it exposes.

Not just what lies outside.

But what lies within.

It casts its reach across the seen and the unseen—

It touches blade, bone, breath, and belief—

And in that touch, nothing can remain hidden.

It is not holy.

It is not righteous.

It is not kind.

It reveals what is,

Without veil,

Without apology.

It strips away illusion—gently or violently—until only the truth remains.

It does not judge the truth it reveals.

It only says: "Here it is."

Light is the eye that does not blink.

The truth that does not shift.

The witness that never forgets.

It does not chase darkness.

It does not fight it.

It does not flee from it.

It simply makes darkness visible—

And in doing so, transforms it.

Light is not warmth.

Though it can comfort.

It is not fire.

Though it can burn.

It is not healing.

Though it can restore.

It is the condition for all things to be known.

It is the mirror turned inward.

The blade turned transparent.

The wound made honest.

Where flame consumes, light uncovers.

Where thunder punishes, light exposes.

Where time forgets, light remembers.

Light does not erase the past.

It simply makes it impossible to pretend it never happened.

And in that confrontation—choice begins.

Light carries a cost.

It does not grant power.

It demands awareness.

What it shows may shame.

May terrify.

May break.

But what is broken under light... can no longer be hidden.

And what is seen... may finally be understood.

And what is understood... may finally be changed.

There is no edge to Light.

No shape.

No cry.

Only a quiet, growing pressure.

Like breath in a still room.

Like a sunrise without clouds.

It expands.

And in its expansion, all falsehood collapses.

This is why light is feared.

Not because it harms—

But because it leaves nowhere to run.

No mask holds beneath it.

No lie stands within it.

No shadow can deny it.

It does not kill.

But it brings everything to the surface—

And what surfaces... cannot always survive.

Light is not dominance.

It is clarity.

It is not mercy.

It is understanding.

It is not strength.

It is truth laid bare.

This is not the light of torches or stars.

Not the light of weapons or heavenly might.

This is the Law of Light.

Not a tool.

Not a savior.

Not a force to control.

It is the unveiling.

The great exposure.

The shedding of false skins.

It does not answer questions.

It removes the need to ask.

And once Light has touched something—

Once it has been seen—

It cannot be unseen.

It cannot be unlearned.

It cannot be undone.

Because Light does not leave.

It becomes part of you.

Part of all things.

And in its presence—

Everything else must become real.

\\\

It was sharp before it was forged.

Not in steel.

Not in edge.

But in intention.

Even before the hilt was grasped, the Sword existed.

Before the blade was born of fire and ore, the Sword had already chosen its path.

This was not a tool.

Not a weapon.

Not a means to kill.

It was a Law.

And in that moment—when all movement ceased and the soul fell silent—it became clear:

The Sword does not exist to cut.

It exists to divide.

To separate truth from lie.

Path from chaos.

Life from death.

Strength from hesitation.

Every swing is a decision.

Every thrust is a judgment.

Every draw is a declaration.

To comprehend the Sword Law is not to master the blade.

It is to become the line that separates what is... and what no longer should be.

It is not about battle.

It is about definition.

The Sword is not driven by rage, nor dulled by mercy.

It does not waver, does not bargain, does not delay.

It cuts.

Not because it wants to—

But because it must.

The edge is not in the metal.

It is in the conviction.

The stillness before the strike.

The certainty that no other path remains.

Sword Law has no room for doubt.

Doubt dulls.

Hesitation rusts.

Emotion bends.

But the Sword moves in clarity—cold, quiet, complete.

And with deeper comprehension, it is seen:

The Sword is not for killing.

It is for ending.

A grudge.

A war.

A lie.

A cycle.

A self.

The Sword draws the final line through what must not continue.

It does not chase.

It does not weep.

It does not look back.

The blade is not heavy.

But the choices it carries are.

Each cut marks a turning point.

Each strike alters fate.

Each unsheathing is a question asked in silence:

"What will remain when I have finished?"

The Sword Law reveals:

That a true sword never swings wildly.

Never seeks praise.

Never strikes without purpose.

Its path is narrow—razor-thin, honed by necessity.

Its burden is solitude—carried by those who choose to act when others cannot.

Because the Sword does not protect.

It removes the threat.

And that is not always beautiful.

There is no glory in comprehension.

Only silence.

Only understanding.

That the Sword is not a flame to burn, nor thunder to roar.

It is the moment between breaths—

When time splits—

And only one path can remain.

This... is the Sword Law.

Not a weapon.

Not a craft.

Not a symbol.

But a principle, absolute.

The will to cut without regret.

The strength to sever without fear.

The clarity to walk forward... and leave behind all that cannot follow.

A/N: A question for you readers?

Has Lyla already appeared?