"You!" Elias flared in fury at Max's mocking tone, unable to bear the disdain in his eyes. Without hesitation, he surged forward, his sword cutting through the air like a raging tide, waves of energy crashing out from the blade.
The sheer pressure from his sword concept was enough to make the ground tremble, his movement sharp, aggressive, fueled by rage and the pride of a one-star genius.
But Max simply smiled, his Severing Sword Concept already fully released—sharp, efficient, and terrifying in its simplicity. When their swords met, it wasn't just metal against metal—it was a clash of will. Sparks erupted wildly, flashing like tiny stars in the clearing, but while Elias poured all his energy into every strike, Max's movements were effortless.
His feet moved like whispers across the ground, gliding and twisting in perfect flow. His swordplay was clean—no flashy techniques, no wasted motion—just brutal, precise cuts that disrupted Elias' rhythm again and again.
