MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 971: War Machines

The moment those words left Klaus’ lips, both Aaaninja and Lucian vanished from where they stood in less than the span of a single blink, their figures dissolving like mirages, and they appeared at each other’s former positions, their backs facing one another as they stood in absolute silence for a moment, then, in the next instant, a heavy clang rang out as though even the speed of sound itself had proven slower than their movements.

They didn’t turn toward each other immediately, their bodies still remaining relaxed, their muscles not tensed, their entire demeanor composed and unnervingly calm, their swords still sheathed as though nothing of significance had occurred.

It seemed as though that singular exchange had revealed something to either one of them, a silent acknowledgment of the other’s level, a wordless recognition that could only be understood by warriors standing at the very peak.

Then, in the very next moment, their bodies tensed, muscles coiling and twisting like compressed springs as their forms gathered raw, monstrous power and immeasurable strength without restrictions or reservations, there would be no holding back, no testing waters, they would go full physical prowess instantly as though the very concept of restraint had been erased from existence.

With that, their bodies turned to the other side as they immediately tore toward one another with apocalyptic madness, their weapons streaking toward each other like enraged beasts locking horns in a struggle for dominance. And like two nuclear warheads colliding midair, their weapons finally met.

In that instant, the entire Separate Plane seemed to halt in reverence, everything turning white for a split second as time itself appeared to halve, fractured and trembling, then in the next instant it snapped violently back into place, and with that correction, an all-ravaging explosion erupted outward with just the meeting of their blades at a single infinitesimal point in time and space.

Space itself couldn’t even resist the force, it shattered entirely without reservation, collapsing in totality like fragile glass, tremors tearing through the earth as a force and magnitude capable of erasing planets were unleashed upon their second exchange, the devastation echoing endlessly across the boundless plane.

Their eyes met, black meeting rainbow, abyss colliding with prismatic brilliance, and in a blink they vanished from where they stood, their bodies blitzing through the entirety of the Separate Plane as they met and separated with extreme force and madness. Destruction erupted one moment, annihilating landscapes without mercy, but creation followed the next as the Separate Plane regenerated instantly, restoring itself only to be torn apart again in a ceaseless cycle.

Clang Clang Clang Clang Clang Clang.

The sound of the clashing of their weapons seemed almost too rhythmic, too precise, as though they were unconsciously composing a violent symphony, as though they were artists born and raised in studios rather than battlefields. But none of them cared for that at the moment, they sped faster than normal sight, faster than a blink, faster than thought, faster beyond human comprehension, beyond any comprehension that language could hope to describe.

Blasts tore outward, shockwaves following ceaselessly as they moved, one a blur of black, the other a blur of white as though they stood on opposite sides of the spectrum itself, embodiments of darkness and light colliding in eternal opposition.

At this moment, words held no place, smiles had no reason to exist, only pure, ultimate, and unadulterated focus remained. The first to slip would feel the bite of steel, and whom that first would be would be determined soon by skill, precision and the merciless tempo of battle.

In a flash of motion, they appeared upon a mountain of sand dunes, but a single flash of a blade from Aaaninja collapsed it entirely, the structure shattering into a roaring tsunami of sand that swallowed the horizon, yet they were both already gone before gravity even had the chance to claim the debris.

The air trembled continuously as it knew no rest, the wind screaming as its barriers shattered in consecutive succession and impact. Anywhere these two were, space itself would collapse at the mere meeting of their weapons. Their feet didn’t stop moving, they remained in constant motion, attacks unleashed with every fraction of a second as neither of them dared to slow, for even a heartbeat of hesitation meant certain defeat.

Hesitation? Mercy?

Please, not here, such jokes should be taken to a theater of mortals, not a domain that contained beings like them, beings who had long since stepped beyond such fragile sentiments.

Techniques blossomed with fluidity and grace like both of them had almost never displayed throughout their previous battles. The basic sword techniques in their hands were more dangerous than any fancy or extravagant techniques anyone could hope to create, for simplicity in the hands of masters transcended complexity.

A slash to cleave a mountain clean in half.

A cleave to slash open a yawning chasm.

A thrust to erupt open a sinkhole.

A cut to rip open space itself.

Their chain of attacks linked from one variation to the other with ridiculous efficiency and honed experience, but at the same time, their defensive techniques were just as beautiful and mesmerizing as their offensive techniques, a seamless dance of destruction and protection interwoven perfectly.

A slash met a parry. A cleave met a block, a thrust meeting a sidestep. A cut meeting a deflection.

None stopped, none slowed, none blinked as though all of these actions were wasted energy that could instead be diverted toward another muscle to further increase the momentum of their spar, their bodies functioning like perfectly tuned war machines.

Tension climbed higher and higher, momentum skyrocketing without limit, madness encapsulating the battlefield as their speeds increased further and further, strength climbing to absurd heights where mere scales and tons and kilograms had no reason to exist anymore, such measurements rendered meaningless.

Even at the speed they moved, their afterimages and phantoms seemed to have matches and collisions of their own as they flickered through space, ghostly echoes waging their own silent war.

They appeared within a forest, Lucian hanging in the air, Aaaninja staring at him from below, time seeming to slow for a moment as reality itself appeared to pause and admire the terrible beauty of what was happening. But Lucian moved again, forcing time to snap back into place. His katana flashed outward and downward in a splitting diagonal motion.

A blur of a black sword arc tore forward as though ordained by the heavens themselves. Aaaninja simply flicked his wrist with the effortless ease of a master dismissing the attack of a student. His own white sword arc screamed upward in pure speed and immaculate swordsmanship.

The moment the two sword arcs met, the air rippled in absolute silence, space recoiled in fear, reality held its breath, time froze, and even light photons seemed to shudder for a fleeting moment as though existence itself doubted what it was witnessing.

Then it came.

An all-encompassing, titanic force of madness exploded and blasted outward in unadulterated, erasing power that wiped out everything within hundreds of kilometers, the impact slamming into Aaaninja and Lucian’s former positions with catastrophic fury. But the two had already flickered away, leaving only fading afterimages in their wake as their continuous madness resumed in another direction, the battle far from over and only escalating further.