Blueâs short sword tore downward with such blistering speed that Asherâs eyes, thoughts, natural perception, and even his Omni Perception could not follow it. The wind screamed as the blade carved through it, tearing toward his neck as Blue attempted to end the battle in one decisive motion. There was no hesitation, no wasted flourish, only lethal speed and sword arc.
Asherâs Instinctive Adaptation and Optimal Movement Efficiency fired off simultaneously like twin bullets, propelling his body sideways in a burst of motion so abrupt it bordered on the unnatural. He dodged an attack he could neither see nor anticipate, saved only by his instincts, instincts that had spared him more times in the past minute than in his entire life.
He crashed painfully against a tree as he evaded the blow, bark exploding around him, but Blue offered him no reprieve. Another attack streaked forward instantly, forcing Asher to dive to the side in a frantic scramble. Blueâs blade shredded the tree he had been leaning against, turning it into a storm of wooden shards. In that moment, Asher possessed none of his usual poise, none of his characteristic elegance. He was not fighting, he was surviving, dodging with desperate, frantic movements that barely kept him alive.
His eyes betrayed him. His ears betrayed him. Even his Omni Perception, the ability that had been with him since the day he awakened, was useless. The only thing protecting him were the abilities granted to him by his Absolute Physique, each one acting with unconscious permission. His eardrums rattled violently from the sound of the tree shattering beside him, the world exploding in noise and pressure.
But he didnât stop. He couldnât stop. He didnât dare stop.
This wasnât some fantasy novel where plot armor would swoop in, where a passing expert would descend from the heavens to kill his opponent and save him in dramatic fashion. No such deus ex machina existed here.
Asher couldnât afford a single thought; he didnât even have the luxury of forming one. His entire being was funnelled into movement, pure, instinctive, desperate movement. Every shred of energy he possessed was devoted to Optimal Movement Efficiency, which dragged him through survival by the thinnest margins conceivable.
Blue moved again, his speed increasing beyond the realm of anything Asher had ever encountered. His grip tightened around the black blade as he shot forward in a blur, the weapon blitzing toward Asherâs chest with murderous certainty.
Asherâs foot shifted, his body dove left. He rolled across the ground, dirt and gravel scraping his skin, narrowly escaping another lethal strike. His movements lacked grace, lacked the artistry they usually possessed, but they kept him alive.
âHow?â Blue thought, a rare flicker of confusion crossing his expression.
He had reached a speed surpassing even the Tenth Sun, yet the Tenth Sun continued to evade him. It was impossible. He could tell Asher wasnât seeing him, wasnât sensing him, wasnât tracking him in any conventional way... yet he always slipped away a fraction of a moment before death claimed him.
âIs he seeing the future?â Blue wondered, incredulous, âbut that should be impossible even if he possessed the ability to do so, given the current conditionâ
Asher was not seeing the future. But in a way... he was.
The abilities within the Absolute Physique were working in perfect, merciless harmony. Battle Intuition read Blue on an instinctive level before the man even moved, passing the information to Instinctive Adaptation, which instantly forwarded it to Optimal Movement Efficiency. The three worked like a single divine mechanism, granting Asher the microscopic sliver of time he needed to dodge.
But Asher wasnât thinking anymore. He wasnât choosing. He wasnât strategizing. He moved like a machine, a precision-engineered construct built solely to evade death.
His eyes were unfocused, distant, hollow. His body responded without will or intention. Yet despite this, every detail still crashed into him with visceral intensity the wind screaming against Blueâs blade, the destruction of trees around them, the violent rush of displaced air as steel passed through the space he had inhabited a heartbeat earlier.
He felt everything. But he had no time to process any of it, for Blue never allowed him even a fraction of a second to breathe.
And so the deadly dance continued, a feral, merciless game of cat and rat. Blue, the cat, moved with chilling refinement and lethal bursts of speed. Asher, the rat, moved with no grace but with mechanical efficiency born from raw survival instinct.
Blurs streaked across the forest as both figures darted through the trees, their movements so fast the air itself struggled to keep up. One moment they were racing across branches, the next they were tearing across the forest floor, each step cracking the earth beneath them.
Blue struck again, his blade slashing toward Asherâs temple in a clean horizontal arc. Asher stepped back just in time, avoiding decapitation, but a thin line opened across his forehead, blood spraying outward.
He had dodged, yes. But not without injury.
Though Battle Intuition, Instinctive Adaptation, and Optimal Movement Efficiency kept him alive, they couldnât guarantee he remained unscathed after each evasion.
Every time an injury appeared, Virelass snapped it shut instantly. Throughout the ordeal, since Asher had shifted entirely into the defensive, she had remained completely silent within her sheath. She did not hum. She did not communicate. She did not send a single pulse of energy.
She merely healed, she did not dare break his concentration.
Though she knew her master was currently at a disadvantage, she refused to interfere without his direct intention. Whatever advantage this assassin had, she believed it would soon end, for no one knew Asherâs monstrous potential better than she did.
So she remained silent. Silent, but assured. Silent, but unbothered. Silent, but efficient, mending every wound the instant it appeared.
Asher, meanwhile, looked nothing like a noble. He looked nothing like the prodigy who had ended opponents in the time it took them to blink. He looked nothing like the talented monster he was renowned to be.
His purple hair was disheveled and dusted with dirt.
His clothes were torn, smeared with mud, soil, and grit from rolling violently across the ground.
His sharp, handsome features were covered in dust and grime.
Aesthetic? Appearance? Those were luxuries. And he was far beyond luxuries. He was fighting for his life. That was the only concern that mattered.
In the next instant, Blueâs speed increased once again as he escalated the battle to yet another tempo. To him, this fight had dragged on far too long. His body shot forward like an arrow loosed from a divine bow, and his foot slammed toward Asherâs chest with brutal intent.
This time, Asher couldnât dodge, not in time.
Blueâs kick crashed into his armor with thunderous force, hurling Asher backward like a kite caught in a hurricane. His body tore through the forest, smashing through branches and exploding through undergrowth with terrifying speed.
And still, the battle was far from over.