Max stood tall amidst the storm, his sword cutting down technique after technique, his concepts intertwining in perfect harmony. The severing edge of his sword split their defenses, his lightning tore through their speed, and his flas burned their strength to ash. Every energy attack the twin demons hurled at him was shattered in the air, broken apart by either the thunderclap of his blade or the burial fire of his suns.
The arena beca a battlefield of elental destruction. Lightning carved through stone, flas reduced the ground to molten rivers, and sword energy severed even the reinforced runes etched into the earth. Aron and Bron’s combined might shook the arena, but Max’s techniques tore through them again and again, leaving the demons with no advantage.
From outside the barrier, the humans erupted in thunderous cries. They could see clearly that Max was not only enduring the combined assault of the twin demons but dismantling their most powerful abilities with his own mastery. His sword carried the weight of vengeance, his flas carried the fury of loss, and his lightning carried the swiftness of retribution.
For the first ti, the arrogance of the twin demons cracked. Their blood eyes narrowed in unison, and for the first ti in centuries, they felt pressure.
And Max, his aura still surging higher, looked at them with disdain as if their so-called overwhelming might was nothing but paper before his blade.
"Ti to end this," Max muttered, his voice steady as the concept of fla and lightning that had burned around him dissipated completely. What remained was the sharp, cutting presence of his third level concept of the Severing Sword, pure and unyielding. The energy around him grew colder, heavier, as if every strand of existence was being sliced apart by the unseen edge of his will.
Both Bron and Aron imdiately grew wary. They could sense that Max was preparing sothing different, sothing more dangerous than before.
"Brother, I will flank him from the side while you take his attention head-on," Bron said, his tone low and sharp. His crimson eyes narrowed into slits. "This ti, use your full power. I will also use mine."
Aron gave a single nod, his expression grim.
"Demonic Might—Release!" he roared, his voice shaking the entire arena.
His body swelled instantly, muscles doubling in size as his fra expanded by more than five feet. Black steam hissed out of his pores, enveloping him in a suffocating mist that warped the air. His fists clenched so tightly that space itself quivered, faint cracks rippling outward as if reality could not withstand the sheer force gathering in his body. Then, without warning, his towering figure vanished.
WHAAAANG!
The sound was like a war drum tearing through the battlefield. Aron reappeared directly in front of Max, his speed shocking even the most seasoned observers. Despite his colossal form, he moved as fast as Bron, his body blurring into motion that defied expectation. The path behind him was utterly destroyed, a jagged line of collapsed ground and shattered stone marking his approach.
He clenched his enormous fist, the knuckles glowing with demonic light, and brought it down toward Max with the intent to crush him entirely. The impact carried the weight of mountains, the kind of blow that could tear apart continents if not for the runes reinforcing the arena.
At the very sa mont, Bron ignited his own technique. His body glowed with crimson light, beams of energy erupting from him like rivers of molten destruction. Everything the beams touched lted instantly, turning stone to liquid and burning holes in the air itself. Then his figure flickered and disappeared, leaving behind only streaks of red light.
He reappeared at Max’s right side, his body glowing like a blade of condensed destruction. There was no pause, no hesitation. His montum surged as if he intended to ram Max directly with his entire body, a crimson cot of annihilation ant to pierce and erase anything in its path.
For the first ti in the fight, the twins were using their full power, their strength and speed unleashed together. The arena shook violently, the barrier runes blazing brighter and brighter to contain the chaos. The humans outside held their breath in fear, while the demons roared with savage excitent, knowing their champions were about to unleash devastation.
Just as the two demons unleashed their devastating charge, Max remained completely calm. His body did not flinch, his breathing did not falter, and his crimson eyes glowed faintly with a cold light. His Three Dinsional Body had already mapped out every angle of their attack, every movent of their muscles, every fluctuation in their energy. Nothing about their assault was hidden from him.
He raised his sword slowly, the blade humming with an aura that seed to sever even the air around it. His voice was quiet, yet it carried through the arena with the weight of inevitability.
"Sky Shattering Sword Art – Heaven Severing Sword."
The sword descended in a single motion. There was no flourish, no spectacle of power, only a clean and deliberate swing.
BANG!
The sound rang out like the cracking of the heavens themselves. The mont the blade fell, Aron and Bron’s bodies jerked violently. Their colossal attacks never reached Max. Instead, both demons were blasted away as if struck by an invisible force of imasurable power. Their massive figures were hurled across the arena, spinning through the air like broken projectiles.
They slamd into the far corners of the arena, colliding with the glowing runic walls with thunderous impact. The runes flared brightly, holding against the force, while the stone beneath their bodies cratered from the collision.
For a mont the arena went silent. The demons struggled to understand what had just happened. One mont, their attacks had been inches away from crushing Max. The next, they were the ones sent flying helplessly.
Then the true horror revealed itself. Both Aron and Bron looked down and froze. Their arms and legs had been severed with terrifying precision. Blood sprayed into the air, splattering across the broken stone, but the wounds were too clean, too perfect. There had been no wasted motion, no jagged cuts. It was as if their limbs had simply ceased to exist, sliced away by a force so sharp they never even felt the mont it happened.
A chill unlike any other spread through their bodies. This was not just defeat. This was dominance. Max had chosen not to kill them. He had chosen, instead, to cut away their limbs with surgical accuracy.
And that fact alone terrified them more than death.
Because it ant that in that one swing, Max had already decided their fate. If he had wanted to, he could have ended their lives in an instant.
But was Max really chosen to not kill them?
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