See more on my P@treon.
[email protected]/Dreamerlord Just replace @ with a
Read 140+ chaps there
And we have reached third world there, it being Monster Integration.
***
Blades and hands locked.
Alan's sword pressed down with everything he had, his muscles straining, veins standing out along his arms. Opposite him, Garam held the blade back with a single hand, golden energy wrapped around his fingers like an unbreakable shield.
The ground beneath them collapsed further.
Crack—crack—!!
"Still not enough," Garam said coldly.
Alan's eyes sharpened.
Then—
He shifted.
A small movement.
But enough.
His sword slid along Garam's palm, sparks bursting as the angle changed. In the same motion, Alan stepped in, closing the distance even further.
Too close.
His shoulder slammed into Garam's chest—
Boom—!!
The impact of the last exchange forced Garam back half a step. It was only a small distance, but it was the first time he had truly been pushed. Alan didn't give him a second to recover. His blade rose instantly as he called upon a legendary technique.
[Undefeated King's Swordsmanship: 100,000 Army Massacre Sword]
The air screamed as a clean, heavy slash tore across Garam's torso. It was a deep wound, and blood stained the shattered ground. For the first time, the calm disappeared from Garam's eyes, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. He lunged forward with explosive speed. His hand shot out like a cannonball, and although Alan blocked it, the sheer force drove him backward, his boots carving deep furrows into the earth.
Garam gave him no room to breathe. He was already there, launching a second and third strike, each one heavier than the last. Alan's eyes flashed. Instead of retreating, he stepped directly into the path of the next blow. The collision at point-blank range sent a shockwave through the area, but Alan held his ground.
Locked face-to-face, Garam whispered, "…You're adapting too fast."
Alan didn't waste his breath. His sword trembled briefly under the pressure before falling perfectly still. His aura tightened, refining itself until it was as sharp as the edge of his blade. He moved again. This time, his movements weren't just fast; they were perfect. Every motion was direct and clean.
When his sword cut forward, Garam moved to block, but the result was different. The impact rang out with a deafening crack, and Garam was shoved back a full step. The ground crumbled under his heel.
Garam looked at Alan with newfound gravity. "…So this is it," he murmured.
Alan raised his sword once more, his resolve absolute. "I'll go beyond you."
Garam didn't smile. Instead, his aura surged to a terrifying level, turning darker and heavier until the sky itself began to dim in response. "Then show me," Garam challenged.
They collided one more time. The force of their clash didn't just shake the ground—it felt as if the very sky had been split in two.
The sky trembled as a massive shockwave tore through the clouds, ripping the earth beneath them into jagged pieces. The battlefield itself could no longer contain their escalating power. They clashed again and again, each collision sending out waves of force that shattered rocks and caused the ground to sink under the weight of their footsteps.
Alan took the initiative, his sword cutting forward in a line so clean it seemed to bypass the air itself. Garam raised a guard to block, but a sickening crack echoed as his defense wavered. Sensing the opening, Alan didn't hesitate for a heartbeat.
[Undefeated King's Swordsmanship: 300,000 Army Massacre Sword]
The air screamed as a flurry of rapid, heavy slashes rained down. A clean cut opened across Garam's arm—not a killing blow, but a real, bleeding wound. Garam's eyes narrowed as he launched a heavy counter-strike into Alan's side. This time, Alan refused to be thrown back. He twisted his body to absorb the impact and stayed dangerously close, forcing the fight into a suffocating range.
Slash! Clang! Shing!
Their movements blurred into a single, continuous flow of violence where offense and defense were indistinguishable. Garam's aura surged, becoming heavier and more oppressive, yet Alan only moved sharper. He was adapting in real-time, placing every step perfectly and aiming for the smallest gaps in Garam's form. Blood began to drip steadily as new cuts appeared on Garam's shoulder and side. For the first time, the "untouchable" warrior was being forced backward, step by step.
"…You've grown," Garam noted, his voice low.
Alan offered no reply. His focus was a physical weight. He stepped forward again, his aura condensing until his perception of the world slowed to a crawl. Everything became clear.
"…So this is your peak?" Garam asked quietly.
Alan moved. It was a single, simple step followed by a strike that was neither flashy nor fast—it was merely perfect. When the blades met, the impact exploded with such force that Garam was shoved back again, his feet carving deep lines into the wreckage of the battlefield.
A heavy silence followed. Garam exhaled slowly, his expression shifting as something deeper awakened within him. His golden aura darkened, turning dense and almost solid. Alan felt the sudden shift instantly; it was the chilling sensation of true, lethal danger.
Garam raised his hand slowly, the air around them freezing in anticipation. "This ends now."
Alan tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes sharpening with absolute focus. There was no fear, only the intent to win. At the same moment, both men vanished, and the final clash completely broke the battlefield.
The world fell into a sudden, vacuum-like silence before it utterly shattered. A colossal explosion of force tore the earth open, carving a massive crater into the landscape while shockwaves flattened everything for miles. High above, the clouds scattered as if the sky itself had been struck by an invisible hammer. At the epicenter of the destruction, Alan and Garam reappeared, locked in a desperate struggle.
Alan poured every ounce of his soul into his blade, pressing forward with relentless intent. Garam's hand held the edge back, but for the first time, his arm trembled. Noticing the flicker of weakness, Alan surged. "Pinnacle," he muttered, his voice heavy with the weight of his resolve. The atmospheric pressure around his sword intensified, forcing Garam back another grueling step as the ground disintegrated beneath his feet.