MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 499: A Soul

Clement’s knees bent slightly forward, his hands extending outward as one wrist crossed over the other, the tips of his daggers meeting in a silent kiss. With fluid precision, he sank into a battle-ready stance.

In response, Spectre’s hand drifted toward the katana at his waist. With deliberate slowness, the blade slid from its scabbard, steel whispering against scabbard in quiet anticipation.

Anthony observed them with a calm, almost amused smile, his katana resting quietly at his waist.

A palpable tension thickened the air as Clement and Spectre locked their gazes on him.

Then without warning Spectre vanished.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared before Anthony, his katana slicing through the air toward Anthony’s neck with lethal precision.

Anthony stared calmly at the incoming katana. Then, with immaculate ease, his body shifted to the side. The blade flashed past his face and chest narrowly missing, but Spectre had anticipated as much.

Without hesitation, the attack halted mid-motion, the momentum redirected in a seamless arc as the katana veered toward Anthony’s stomach once more, sharp and unforgiving.

Before Anthony could react, Clement appeared behind him, his dagger aimed unerringly at Anthony’s temple.

In that instant, the world seemed to slow to a crawl, time stretching thin as the two blades hovered just inches from their marks

Anthony moved, his body twisting effortlessly to the side as his form blurred, vanishing from his position in a flash.

Spectre’s katana and Clement’s dagger sliced through empty air, striking the space where Anthony’s head and torso had just been. The force of their missed attacks tore through the landscape, toppling trees like brittle stalks.

Their heads snapped toward the side, toward the spot where Anthony now stood, untouched.

“It seems you’ve made progress”

Anthony said, his voice calm yet laced with intrigue.

“But I wonder, will it be enough to bridge the gap between us?”

As he spoke, his hand moved to his waist. With measured grace, he drew his katana from its sheath, the soft chilling hiss of steel escaping wood echoing through the tense air.

In a blur, Anthony sprang forward, his katana slicing through the air, aimed directly at Spectre’s skull, seeking to cleave it open in a single stroke.

But Spectre dropped low, his knees bending into a squat, his own blade already thrusting upward toward Anthony’s midsection with deadly timing.

Anthony’s body shifted instinctively, his shoulder dipping, legs flowing in seamless coordination as he veered to the right, narrowly avoiding the strike.

But Clement was already there.

He had predicted the dodge, calculated the movement, and was waiting, blade poised to strike.

“Predicting me now, are we? Still not enough”

Anthony said coolly, his voice edged with amusement.

His katana swept to intercept Clement’s daggers but the clash never came.

The blades passed through his sword as if it were mist, Clement’s daggers phasing effortlessly through the steel, continuing their path straight toward Anthony’s chest.

Anthony instantly stepped back, narrowly evading the strike, but Clement was relentless.

His foot slid forward with precision, shadowing Anthony’s movement like a mirror, his daggers now slicing toward Anthony’s knees.

Yet Anthony didn’t face him.

His katana swept behind him with perfect timing, ignoring Clement’s assault as it intercepted Spectre’s blade from the rear.

Steel collided with steel in a thunderous clash, the shockwave erupting outward, sending sand and trees hurtling backward in a violent gust.

Clement’s attack finally closed the distance, but Anthony responded by lifting off the ground, his heel snapping toward Clement’s chest in a sudden counter.

Clement reacted instantly, bending his waist backward with fluid agility as the strike flashed just inches above him.

But Anthony wasn’t finished.

With a sharp twist, he shoved Spectre backward with his katana, then brought his descending foot crashing down toward the exposed, bent form of Clement, a sharp continuation of motion.

The darkness beneath Clement writhed and twisted, then swallowed him whole, pulling him from sight in an instant.

Anthony’s foot slammed into the ground with force meant for a body, and the earth responded violently, a deep ravine tearing open beneath him.

But he didn’t pause.

His knees bent slightly, coiling with strength, and in the next breath, he surged forward, his katana cutting through the air with lethal motion, aimed to bring a swift end to Spectre.

But Spectre was ready.

His body shifted with sharp precision as he met Anthony’s strike head-on, katana against katana.

Steel kissed steel.

The sand beneath their feet erupted and parted as both figures vanished in a blur of motion, their forms dissolving into streaks of speed.

Afterimages flickered like ghosts across the expanse of the Mirror Dimension, each one trailing the echo of a strike that had already passed.

The sharp ring of clashing blades filled the air, each clang accompanied by a burst of sparks that lit up the already radiant realm in bursts of silver fire.

Suddenly, a dagger sliced through the air from behind, but Anthony simply bent forward, evading it with effortless grace.

In a blur, his katana vanished from his grip as he stood in between both of them.

Then, without hesitation, his fists drove forward, slamming into Clement’s and Spectre’s midsections with crushing force.

The sharp crack of breaking bones rang out, followed by the harsh gasp of air fleeing their lungs.

A moment later, inertia claimed them, their bodies hurled backward through the air with staggering velocity, trailing shockwaves in their wake.

Their expressions remained unchanged, unfazed, as if the pain hadn’t even registered. Mid-air, their bodies twisted with uncanny control, feet slamming into the earth as they skidded to a halt.

Their eyes snapped toward where Anthony had stood.

But he was gone.

A flicker of instinct pulsed through Clement’s senses, an urgent warning.

Something….. someone was behind him.

It was Anthony.

His katana was already descending, merciless and precise, toward Clement.

Realizing it was too late to dodge or block, Clement instinctively manipulated the shadows once more, slipping into them in a desperate attempt to escape.

But he wasn’t fast enough.

The air turned crimson as blood arced through the sky, splattering like rain.

With a soft, almost haunting thud, Clement’s severed hand hit the ground, cleanly sliced, the cut flawless in its precision.

Anthony’s gaze snapped to the side, eyes narrowing as he sensed something no one else could see drifting near him.

A soul.

Faint, ethereal yet brimming with volatile energy.

In the blink of an eye, it flickered, then erupted outward with cataclysmic force.

The very air screamed.

The floating island beneath them trembled violently, cracks webbing across its surface.

Then, with a deafening roar, it began to collapse, plummeting from the sky at breakneck speed.

Dust swirled violently, shrouding everything within kilometers in a choking haze. Then came a sharp gust, wind howling with unnatural force, scattering the debris and clearing the view.

There floated Anthony, untouched, unharmed.

Beneath him, a yawning sinkhole marred the earth, carved open by the sheer force of the explosion. His gaze shifted toward Clement, a calm smile playing on his lips.

Clement now stood beside Spectre, his expression composed.

He had known he couldn’t evade Anthony’s attack without consequence, so instead, he had left a soul in his place, vanishing just before the strike landed.

The moment he disappeared, the soul detonated.

It was another one of his soul skill; Soul Explosion.

Clement’s severed hand regenerated in an instant, flesh weaving itself back together with unnatural speed. In his newly restored palm, his lost dagger materialized once more, whole and ready.

Then the air shifted.

Power pulsed outward as their elements surged into existence.

Darkness writhed and coiled around Clement’s daggers like living shadows, while lightning danced and crackled across Spectre’s katana, illuminating his silhouette with violent flashes.

Anthony remained silent.

Flames, deep and searing, ignited along his katana, fire roaring to life as if answering his will.

As if responding to the same unspoken rhythm, all three dropped into a stance in perfect synchrony, then, in the same breath, they moved, each unleashing their next attack with devastating purpose.

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