Back on the battlefield, Zain was gone from his spot—leaving only a crackling lightning afterimage in his wake. He reappeared beside Dax in a flash of violet thunder, spear thrusting forward with lethal precision.
How troubleso.
Can I use telekinesis to block lightning? Dax questioned Inerous in the privacy of his mind.
No ti to wait for an answer.
He raised his palm—eting the spear head-on, propelling it upward with raw force.
His judgnt was correct—the telekinetic barrier held—but the backlash was imdiate and vicious. An intense shockwave ripped through his arm, pain lancing down nerves like white-hot wires. His hand was blasted backward, body montarily stunned.
An opening.
Zain seized it without hesitation. He gripped the spear, took one asured step back, then exploded forward—stabbing a hundred tis in the blink of an eye. The spear never pierced flesh, but the chain of lightning strikes hamred Dax relentlessly—each impact leaving scorch marks, numbing limbs, drawing thin lines of blood.
Arg! This lightning is not normal. Its intensity is outrageous.
Dax took careful ntal notes of every wound, every surge of energy, every nuance of pain.
This is why I reduced my realm—to experience this battle to its fullest.
He was ecstatic.
"So this is what mana and aura can do?" A familiar friend returned—his old, insatiable greed. "Ohh, I wish I had it." His body shivered with barely contained madness. "I… I want to study you."
Show more of your capabilities. I want to understand.
Dax's heart beat with vigor. Gently, energy seeped from the Killer Seed—covering his being like liquid shadow. He was truly happy, but his face revealed nothing—cold, emotionless, perfect.
He stretched his hands apart.
A demon took form—six arms, three faces, each twisted in silent agony. Instantly, the Killing Demon manifested—kicking Zain with brutal force, sending him flying across the arena.
Cough.
Blood covered Zain's lips as he stabilized himself midair—eyes narrowing on Dax.
What was that?
He focused—and felt it.
The oppressive aura of killing wrapped around him like chains. He couldn't move. His vision darkened.
Before him stood Dax—face half-hidden in shadow, eyes glowing with demonic crimson.
Behind him lood a terrifying figure—unforgiving, arms spread wide in mockery of divinity. Two hands stretched downward, one horizontal, one pointed skyward. Etched across each face was the dreadful, silent scream of the lost.
Is that so sort of summon? Zain questioned himself.
But sensing the pure, distilled aura of killing, he shook his head.
No. He is too dangerous.
Zain took a stance—thunder crackling around him.
Thunder Blast.
He drew his spear back like a loaded crossbow.
Less than a second later, afterimages of himself shot toward Dax—each one a phantom of lightning and fury.
The mont they struck, the demon behind Dax split into four identical figures—each blocking an afterimage with effortless grace, palms eting spears in silent, perfect counters.
Dax stretched his legs apart—extending one hand forward, dragging the other back. His presence beca cold and oppressive—his form that of a master of death.
"One doesn't need a blade to kill," he said quietly. "The body alone is capable. That makes us weapons in our own right."
"Killing only knows one thing."
Dax blurred—then vanished.
Where did he go? Zain's senses scread.
Move, damn it!
Dax appeared before him at impossible speed—punching downward with devastating force. Zain was blasted toward the edge of the ring.
But before he could be thrown out, the Killing Demon reappeared—striking him with two open palms, holding him in place as two more demons materialized.
Death! Zain's instincts roared.
He wasn't joking about killing .
In that mont, his surroundings slowed—ti stretching like molasses.
His mind raced.
I need to move.
His eyes traced the demon's hand clamped around him—then widened.
Shining brighter than ever.
"I will not lose!" he scread.
Multiple paths appeared before Zain—thousands of movents: from him, from Dax, from the demons—all laid bare in perfect clarity.
Suddenly, he phased through the demons—his body turning into pure lightning.
He reappeared ters away, chest heaving, breaths ragged.
I'm almost out of energy.
He adjusted his stance—but in a blink, Dax was behind him.
"Foresight," Dax murmured—Origin Eyes drinking in the fading afterglow of the ability. "Such special eyes…"
Zain's eyes widened in shock.
His trump card was exposed.
"It's a sha."
"The dataset is complete. I have to end this now."
Killing Series, Second Form: Blood Flow.
Dax squeezed his fist.
Killing intent burst from his body with brilliant, terrifying force—covering the sky in black-red clouds. The wyverns circling above descended in panic, shrieking.
Currently, Dax looked like death himself.
All the demons scattered across the ring gathered—rging back into his form.
Zain felt naked before him—as though every move, every thought, every breath had been dissected and cataloged.
What is this? Is this what it feels like to be toyed with?
Zain felt defeated.
"I am not going to beg for my life," he said—halting Dax's attack mid-motion. "This is probably the punishnt the Ancestor spoke about."
He closed his eyes.
At least I get to die in battle.
"But tell … how did you find out about my eyes?"
Zain's voice was suddenly humble—accepting.
"Such rugged will."
Dax smiled—genuine, almost fond.
Instantly, he canceled the attack.
"You don't fear death," he said in a calm tone.
Zain paused—silent.
"If you beco my slave, I will tell you how I know about your left eye."
Dax smiled innocently—almost boyishly.
"Then please, kill ."
Zain dropped his head—embracing death.
"You give no choice."
One of the Killing Demon's lower hands shot forward—fingers lding into a single, ghastly point.
It pierced through Zain's chest from behind.
Thud.
Zain fell to the floor—lifeless.
"Don't worry," Dax said softly.
"Death has nothing to teach you."
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