440: Korbin â Dead 440: Korbin â Dead âDamn it⊠DAMN IT!!â Korbin howled, his aura exploding once more, wild demonic energy crackling around him like fire trying to consume the air itself.
âWhat are you?!â Max, still as the center of a pond, raised his swordâjust slightlyâand breathed.
His pink eyes locked on to Korbin with the cold, quiet clarity of someone who had already seen the end of this fight.
And thenâhe moved.
Not with rage.
Not with speed.
With purpose.
He took a single step forward.
His sword arm rose, not in some dramatic, over-the-top flourish, but in a slow, graceful arc.
And then, the world changed.
WHOOM.
A wave of pressure exploded outward from Maxânot violent, but suffocating in its purity.
The air stilled, as if the very world had paused to witness what was coming.
The ground beneath his feet crackedâno, peeled, layer by layer, as if reality itself couldnât bear the sharpness that now lived in his blade.
Every being on the tenth floorâelf, demon, humanâfroze.
Their hearts skipped.
Their minds screamed that something unnatural had been unleashed.
Maxâs sword hadnât just become dangerous.
It had become truth.
âWhat⊠what is this feeling?â someone whispered from the crowd, unable to breathe.
âItâs not just Sword AuraâŠâ muttered an elf, eyes wide in shock.
âItâs⊠approaching ConceptâŠâ âThis!â Craigâs voice cracked through the air as his eyes went wide with disbelief.
He wasnât the only oneâseveral of the demons behind him took unconscious steps back, their instincts screaming at them to flee from the suffocating pressure emanating from the arena.
From Max.
From his sword.
The sheer density of power, the terrifying clarity in that pressure, wasnât something that could be faked or misunderstood.
It wasnât brute force.
It wasnât overwhelming aura.
It was something far rarer, far more frighteningârefined intent, the kind that only came when oneâs understanding of a power reached its apex.
âHow⊠how can this be possible?â Craig muttered aloud, stunned as he tried to steady his shaking breath.
His fists trembled at his sides.
His eyes darted between Korbinâs hopeless figure and the lone figure standing in the arenaâMax, his blade lowered, his eyes calm, untouched, unmoved.
A man who had not only defied the standards of power, but rewritten them in front of every witness.
There were thousands of geniuses in the tenth floor of the Tower of Truth.
Elves, demons, humansâall talented beyond compare.
Some had spent decades locked in the Chamber of Laws, meditating in silence, struggling to reach the mysterious boundary between Aura and Concept.
Some never reached it in a lifetime.
Some never even caught a glimpse of it.
But Max?
He had just arrived.
This was his first time on the tenth floor.
He hadnât even touched the Chamber of Laws.
And yet⊠his sword pressure was knocking at the door of a Conceptâsomething that shattered the entire understanding of what was possible, of what was normal.
It was unprecedented.
âThis humanâŠâ Craigâs thoughts twisted into a storm of panic and resolve.
âHe needs to be killed at any cost.â His fists clenched harder, fingernails digging into his palms until blood dripped silently from between his fingers.
It didnât matter if it was shameless.
It didnât matter if it broke the unspoken rules of pride.
Max was too dangerous to be left alive.
If this talent was allowed to continue, if he was allowed to grow just a little more⊠there would be no stopping him.
Even Princess Lenavira, standing silently beside Alice, couldnât hide her shock.
Her normally composed gaze trembled faintly as she recalled the pressure that had poured from Maxâs sword just moments ago.
Her elven bloodline, especially her royal bloodline, gave her one of the highest affinities to mana and energy among her people, but even she had to admitâthe pressure Max released was suffocating.
Crushing.
Yet refined like silk wrapped around a blade.
A storm within a drop.
âSo he wasnât bluffing,â she thought, her eyes fixed on the arena.
âWhen he said he could defeat the top geniuses of the Lost Continent⊠he meant it.
And now⊠heâs proving it.â The entire tenth floor of the Tower of Truth had gone silent.
And deep within the hearts of every genius presentâfear began to root itself.
Fear not of the human race⊠But of Max Voidwalker.
Korbin, still crouched, his eyes bloodshot and mouth parted in disbelief, felt as though his entire body was being torn apart just standing in the presence of Maxâs sword.
âThis⊠this canât be realâŠâ Max took another step.
With each breath, his sword began to humânot with energy, but with understanding.
This was the sword style forged in the crucible of the Pillar of Divine Appraisal.
Honed through battle after battle against warriors who tested not just strength, but essence.
It was not chaotic.
It was not flashy.
It was perfection through simplicity.
And now, he unleashed it.
He raised his blade and whispered beneath his breath, âVoid Blade Style â Final Arc.â In that moment, the entire floor felt like it had been cut in half.
A streak of silver light flashed through the arena so fast that even time failed to register it.
There was no swing.
There was no clash.
There was only a single motionâso refined, so distilledâthat even the heavens might have bowed to it.
The pressure snapped.
The silence shattered.
Korbin didnât even feel it.
He blinked onceâand then the world came apart.
His sword split in two.
His armor cracked down the middle.
His body froze⊠before slowly beginning to dissolve, from the center of his chest outward.
No blood.
No scream.
Just disintegration, as though his very existence was deemed too noisy to remain.
âNoâŠâ Korbin muttered weakly, falling to his knees.
âThis canât beâŠâ But it already was.
With one stroke, Max had ended it.
As Korbinâs body faded into bloody mist, Max stood still, his blade lowered at his side, glowing faintly with that surreal clarity.
Around him, no one moved.
No one breathed.
CREATORSâ THOUGHTS ShinGotLost Your gift is the motivation for my creation.
Give me more motivation!