The dungeon trembled under the storm of power. Rocks shattered, shadows whipped through the air, and the endless horde of enraged monsters surged forward—but none of it mattered now. All focus centered on the two summoners at the heart of the battlefield.
Rocky was a blur. Shadows streaked behind him, splitting into afterimages, twisting and coiling like living weapons. Even the system struggled to track him.
Lucifer's golden eyes narrowed. The legendary sword, Excalibur, pulsed with authority, cutting through the very fabric of space as if reality itself were a toy to test his will.
"Interesting," Lucifer said, voice calm but edged with danger. "You move beyond your limits… but can you withstand mine?"
Without another word, Excalibur slashed in a wide arc. The air around it exploded, light bending and shadow twisting under the strike. The force alone erased part of Rocky's link to Risha, the severed power leaving a burning gap in his aura.
Rocky felt the pain, felt the void—but he didn't stop. Instead, he accelerated further. Faster than before. Faster than perception. His movements blurred into a stream of shadows that darted between strikes, dodges, and attacks, a perfect storm of speed and adaptive power.
Risha watched, awe-struck. "He's… he's not just copying me anymore. He's surpassing what I can even do!"
The monsters—countless, enraged, unstoppable—tried to intercept him, but Rocky moved through them like a hurricane. Each step shredded claws and wings, each strike sent limbs flying, yet his focus never wavered. His destination was clear: Lucifer.
Lucifer adjusted his stance, Excalibur glowing brighter with each heartbeat. The legendary summoner was calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of interest. He had destroyed armies, gods, and summoners far stronger than Rocky—but this boy, this blur, was different.
With another step, Rocky collided head-on with Excalibur. The impact didn't just shake the ground—it shattered reality in a small radius. Shadows twisted, the air burned, and the dungeon itself groaned under the clash.
Lucifer's golden blade met Rocky's adaptive aura directly. Sparks of energy scattered like stars, and for the first time, Lucifer smiled—not cruelly, but genuinely intrigued.
"You've learned fast," he said. "But adaptation alone will not save you."
Rocky gritted his teeth, aura flaring brighter. His shadows twisted into jagged armor, reshaping mid-strike to block, counter, and propel him forward simultaneously. He had lost a link, yes—but his body, his aura, and his instincts were evolving faster than Lucifer expected.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent.
Then chaos erupted again.
The monsters roared. Shadows collided. Light clashed with darkness.
And at the center of it all—Rocky, a blur of shadows and raw aura, vs. Lucifer, Excalibur in hand, law incarnate—the true battle of legends had begun.
The battlefield had become unrecognizable. Stone shattered into jagged ruins, shadows twisted into impossible shapes, and the air burned with the raw collision of aura and authority. The endless horde of enraged monsters scattered under Rocky's blur, their attacks failing before they even began.
Lucifer's golden eyes narrowed as he swung Excalibur. Every strike was precise, every slash capable of erasing mountains and minds alike. Yet Rocky was no longer merely reacting.
He moved faster than thought, shadows and aura weaving around him like living extensions of his body. Each strike he made didn't just hit—it learned, adapted, and multiplied, moving before the enemy even realized it existed.
The system screeched:
Summon Boosts: Overload
Adaptive Aura: Critical Expansion
Threat Level: Unstoppable
Even Lucifer, the legendary summoner whose very name bent laws, felt a flicker of unease. He had destroyed empires, broken gods, and erased concepts from existence—but this boy—this blur—was evolving faster than he could calculate.
Rocky struck again, shadows snapping like jagged lightning. The horde of monsters erupted in chaos, some caught mid-air, others thrown back by the raw force of his movement. Excalibur swung to intercept, but each attack met not a single Rocky—it met a hundred afterimages, a storm of adaptive strikes that reshaped themselves in midair.
Lucifer's calm smile wavered. "Fascinating… you were nothing at first. Fragile. Predictable. Weak."
Now?
He was a storm.
Rocky's aura flared even brighter, shadows whipping around him in jagged spirals. Each movement blurred reality, each strike adaptive, each afterimage learning from the last. Excalibur met one strike, then another—and another—but the sword couldn't find the real Rocky.
The monsters Lucifer had summoned to overwhelm him? Obliterated, scattered, confused, or thrown into one another in total chaos.
Rocky's speed wasn't just movement anymore. It was instinct. It was aura. It was force incarnate, flowing through him, through his summons, through the battlefield itself.
Even Lucifer's legendary calculation faltered. The boy's adaptive power had reached a point he could no longer predict. Each step Rocky took, each strike he threw, reshaped the flow of the battle itself.
Lucifer's expression hardened, Excalibur raised, golden light bending and twisting unnaturally. The legendary summoner realized, with a flicker of something rare—respect, or perhaps curiosity—that this opponent was no longer just a summoner.
He was something beyond calculation.
And the storm that was Rocky charged again, unstoppable, blurred, and unrelenting, straight at the wielder of Excalibur, ready to test the limits of both power and legend itself.
Rocky's blur struck again, moving faster than the eye could track. Excalibur swung to meet him, but this time the strikes weren't met directly—they were dodged, intercepted, and countered almost simultaneously by shadows that twisted and reshaped midair. Each afterimage acted independently, predicting the swing, testing its speed, learning its weight.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "Impressive… but not enough."
He swung Excalibur in a horizontal arc, intending to clear a path through Rocky's storm of movement. Yet as the blade cut through the air, Rocky's adaptive aura responded instantly. The shadows shifted into jagged spikes that redirected the force of the strike, sending energy surging back toward Lucifer.
The legendary summoner stumbled slightly—not from lack of strength, but from the unpredictability of Rocky's evolved adaptation. The boy's aura was no longer just copying; it was anticipating, multiplying, and countering in real time.
Rocky's next strike was brutal. He darted forward in a blur, shadows forming claws and spikes that tore through the air, forcing Lucifer to parry multiple attacks at once. One of the afterimages landed a direct strike, colliding with Excalibur's edge and sending a shockwave through the battlefield.
Rocks shattered. Dust exploded. The enraged horde faltered, unsure where to focus as their master himself was being pressured.
Lucifer's golden eyes flickered with something new—interest, challenge, perhaps even excitement. "So… adaptation can be lethal," he murmured. "I underestimated you."
But even as he said it, Excalibur glowed brighter, the air itself bending around it in preparation for a strike meant to end Rocky's assault entirely.
Rocky's aura flared once more, shadows forming into jagged wings that propelled him higher, faster, sharper. "I'm not done yet," he growled, charging again.
And in that instant, the battlefield trembled as the first clash where Rocky began truly landing blows on Lucifer had begun—proof that even a legendary summoner could be tested by a force that refused to be contained.
The battlefield trembled under the echoes of Rocky's assault. Excalibur glowed, the legendary sword moving with authority that had erased mountains and armies alike, yet for the first time, its wielder felt the weight of true opposition.
Rocky's aura flared violently, shadows snapping into jagged afterimages, moving faster than thought. Every attack he had learned, every maneuver Risha had taught, every ounce of instinct and adaptation he possessed—it all converged into one unstoppable force.
He struck.
The first blow was a blur of jagged shadows. It hit Lucifer across the chest, a strike so fast that even Excalibur's divine edge couldn't fully parry. The impact sent shockwaves across the battlefield, scattering monsters and rupturing the stone beneath them.
Lucifer barely recovered before the second strike came—faster, sharper, and more precise. Shadows twisted into claws, striking from multiple angles at once, tearing at the legendary summoner's defenses. Excalibur deflected some of the attacks, but Rocky's adaptive aura reshaped instantly, slipping through the smallest openings, pushing past even centuries of experience and legendary skill.
The third strike—unimaginable speed, pure concentrated aura, and precise mastery—hit Lucifer head-on. The force shattered Excalibur's defense, sending a shockwave that cleaved through the ground and threw the remaining monsters back. The legendary summoner crumpled, golden eyes wide with disbelief.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield was silent. Dust and shadows swirled. Even the enraged monsters hesitated, sensing the end of their master.
Rocky stood at the center, aura blazing, blurred afterimages fading as his breathing evened out. He looked down at Lucifer—the once unstoppable summoner, now defeated in three strikes.
Risha's eyes widened in awe. "He… he actually did it…"
Lucifer coughed, struggling to rise, Excalibur clattering beside him. A faint smile appeared on his face—not cruel, not mocking, but respectful.
"You… exceeded everything I expected," he whispered.
Rocky's aura flickered as he straightened. "I told you… I'm not just a summoner."
The battlefield trembled again—not from destruction, but from the quiet power of a summoner who had broken limits, surpassed legends, and carved victory with three strikes.
And in that moment, everyone knew: Rocky had become truly unstoppable.