Ery’s ascension to grand magus realm was less than two decades past—barely an instant when asured against the vast tiline of cosmic experts. By contrast, his divine sense easily pierced the veil around his opponent. This Draven was far more refined, a two cosmos Grand Magus of the second layer with several hundred years of mastery behind him. Add to that the formidable high-tier saber in his hands, Ery knew this would be no simple battle.
But rather than dissuade him, the prospect set a steady fla of anticipation alight in his chest. A perfect opponent, a chance to asure his growth
Draven wasted no ti. his killing intent was clear as he raised his crystal blade, its surface shimring with condensed ice law.
His aura surged outward, and his battlefield domain descended. The surrounding space froze beneath its weight, law power condensing into crystalline frost. Shards of icy energy crackled around Ery, pressing in like a million invisible blades.
In answer, Ery raised his hand, summoning his Embernight sword. Crimson flas burst across his body, wreathing him in blazing light. Yet in the vacuum, his fire lacked substance—reduced to an angry glow, heat robbed of its natural fury.
Draven smirked at the sight.
The raider lifted his weapon, a single-edged saber gleaming with killing intent. The swing ca heavy, decisive, as though it sought to carve open both the void and Ery himself.
Ery responded instantly, channeling his sword art.
[Three Mountain Axis Strike]
BAM!
The collision rippled through space, shockwaves distorting the star field. Ery’s arms trembled as he was hurled backward, body spinning before he steadied himself. He had lost the first exchange.
He exhaled slowly. That first clash had told him everything he needed. Both of them wielded high grade tier-six weapons. The difference lay not in steel, but in mastery—Draven’s strength and comprehension of law simply outweighed his own.
More than that, each of the captain’s strikes carried the imprint of a true blade master. The aura around his saber was more than law, there was a razor-sharp intent woven into every motion.
Draven pressed forward. His saber whirled in arcs, a storm of frost unleashed. Each strike manifested as crashing waves of ice, rolling across the battlefield in rciless succession.
[Glacial Wave Breaker!]
The blade aura surged, multiplying, and Ery’s defenses faltered under the relentless tide. His flas sputtered, suppressed by the vacuum and smothered by the enemy’s law. A realization struck him even as he parried the storm. Fire was weakened here, where air did not exist. Ice, by contrast, thrived in the emptiness of space.
After barely a dozen exchanges, Ery was forced to abandon the direct clash, darting aside as the cold waves sliced past.
From afar, the spectators saw the battle unfold. Raiders aboard the nearby fleet cheered wildly at their captain’s dominance, while the refugees trembled in fearful awe, their fragile hopes pinned on the lone figure holding back the frost.
Draven did not chase recklessly. He stopped, his voice echoing into Ery’s mind with a predator’s calm.
Draven’s smirk carried a hint of arrogance. The raider leader clearly believed his ntal defenses was sufficient, confident that Ery could not breach the fortress of his will.
Ery noted it in silence. Truthfully, he was curious how far his spirit attack could reach against such an opponent—but he wished to test sothing else.
He whispered softly.
"Killgragah... it’s your turn."
A deep, rumbling voice answered from within.
The bond with Khaos flared open. Energy surged, raw and untad. Ery’s crimson flas darkened instantly, twisting into sothing deeper, more sinister. A layer of shadow wrapped around the fire, and a blackened blaze ignited, eerie and consuming, a fla that defied the laws of the cosmos.
The unnatural sight made Draven falter. His confident smirk vanished. Wariness tightened his features.
"What kind of fla is that?"
Ery’s eyes glead gold, his grin sharp.
"It’s my turn now"
He launched forward like a burning cot, void trembling in his wake. His sword carved arcs of shadowed fire, each swing carrying heat strong enough to repel the suffocating cold.
[Three Mountain Axis Strike — Hill-Cleaving Slash!]
The void trembled with the collision. Draven t the strike with a roar, his saber cleaving down with surging frost. For the first ti, the ice didn’t overwhelm—the unnatural fla pushed back, searing holes through the frozen tide.
Draven snarled and spun his weapon.
[Frostfang Cascade!]
A torrent of icy blades crashed forward, colliding with Ery’s strikes. The two warriors beca twin storms, their techniques clashing again and again, each strike shaking the void like thunder.
From that mont, it was no longer a one-sided assault but a true battle of sword and blade. Sparks of black fla and icy light scattered across the emptiness.
Dozens of exchanges passed. Both fought evenly, but Ery soon realized the truth. Draven had not earned the na Frostblade Crosair for nothing. He was not just a Grand Magus; he was a blade master.
Draven’s techniques erupted in full. His saber swept arcs that summoned entire walls of jagged frost, crashing down like tidal waves.
[Glacier Tide Assault!]
The airless dark beca a storm of ice and steel, wave after wave of frozen law carving toward Ery.
Ery pressed back. Each swing of Embernight Sword carved burning scars across the void, flas biting into the tide, his will forcing the fire to hold against the cold. Yet with every clash, the truth sharpened: Ery’s Three Mountain Axis style, though powerful, was not perfectly attuned to fla. Each clash revealed cracks in his form, flaws that Draven’s skill exploited with surgical precision.
Gradually, Ery’s attacks slowed. He shifted into defense, parrying strike after strike, his body buffeted by waves of cold. Bit by bit, cracks opened in his defense. The tide began to push him back.
Draven’s confidence swelled. His strikes grew heavier, sharper, his grin returning as he sensed the battle tipping in his favor.
But Ery’s eyes only grew steadier. Calm, unshaken as he replied.
Ery did not yield. Instead, he shifted his stance, and with a sudden flash drew a second blade from his side—the [Savage Blade].
Draven blinked in surprise.
he scoffed, amused.
His amusent turned to shock when the energy around Ery flared again. The burning black-crimson fire shuddered, then split. Half of it flickered away, giving rise to sothing else entirely—icy cold flas, pale and blue, that licked his other arm.
The void froze and burned at once. One sword carried the unnatural fire, the other was cloaked in spectral frost. Opposing forces, yet both bent to Ery’s will.
Dual elents. Dual blades.
The raider captain’s eyes narrowed, disbelief warring with unease. "Impossible..."
Ery raised both weapons, his stance shifting into sothing new. One sword cut with the weight of mountains, the other danced with an edge that bent law itself. His voice rang steady as he whispered the na of his art:
[Dao Divine Sword.]
X x
User Comments
0 comments from readers