For an instant, the iron-grey barrier held.
Seven black edges pressed against it from different directions. Crimson bands brightened beneath them, and the God of War's remaining hand tightened. The air around the sphere bent inward.
Then one of the bands split.
It did not explode. A clean gap appeared across it, and the power flowing through that section stopped reaching the other side.
The god's eyes narrowed.
Simon's technique was not seven sword waves thrown toward the same target. He had chosen seven places to cut and prepared the movements needed to cut them. Now all seven strikes were taking effect together.
Throat. Heart. Wrist. Waist. The defence itself. The space behind the shoulder. The ground beneath the feet.
Stopping one did not stop the others.
The God of War forced more Aether into the barrier. Three sections became almost opaque, protecting his throat, heart, and remaining hand. The black edges bearing down on those points shuddered.
Then they broke.
