Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 591: How Vast?

The next instant, both of them appeared at a singular point in space and time, their blades screaming toward one another with apocalyptic force and overwhelming motion. The moment rapier met katana, the world itself seemed to still, as though hesitant, almost fearful, to unleash the catastrophe that was destined to emerge from such a collision. Even the air grew heavy, suffocating, as if existence itself held its breath in anticipation.

But it could not remain frozen forever, for in the very next moment, everything snapped violently back into place, and the sound of metal slamming against metal, like titanic battering rams colliding, thundered outward alongside a storm of incandescent sparks.

A titanic implosion rippled outward with terrain-warping force as a shockwave tore violently across the land, wiping everything within a three-kilometer radius as though it were nothing more than fragile dust before a blade. The ground caved and split apart, ravines were blown open with brutal force, earthquakes boomed with devastating seismic intensity, and trees, ancient and towering, were reduced to splinters and ash in the blink of an eye.

All of this devastation stemmed from a single exchange between two humans, two beings who wielded power that rivaled, and perhaps even surpassed, what a world would like earth dare to call gods.

Yet, despite the implosion slamming mercilessly into both of them, neither of them took a single step back. Their feet remained perfectly planted into the earth, unwavering and absolute, as though rooted by an unspoken oath. Neither dared to yield even the slightest inch, as if it had already been decided that whoever faltered first, no matter how insignificantly, would be irrevocably branded the loser.

Purple eyes met black ones, and for a fleeting moment, silence reigned between them, a silence that felt far louder than the chaos unraveling around them.

Without a single word, without even the faintest signal, both of them vanished from where they stood, as though they had slipped beyond reality itself. Their speed skyrocketed with every passing instant, ascending to heights that defied comprehension.

Wherever they moved, sound lagged behind, echoing uselessly in their wake, while the displacement of wind erupted violently. The very concept of sound proved too slow, too insignificant to keep up with these two behemoths cloaked in human flesh.

Asher became a streak of radiant gold intertwined with deep purple, a blazing comet tearing through space, while Debro manifested as a concentrated streak of black. The two streaks intertwined like the blades of scissors, clashing and parting in rapid succession as they exchanged attacks with terrifying frequency.

With every step they took, the earth beneath them sank and exploded upward into fragments of stone and debris, unable to withstand the pressure of their existence. With every movement they made, the wind itself lagged behind before collapsing in on itself, crumbling like a sandcastle beneath an unstoppable tide.

They did not slow, not for hesitation, not for thought, not for the world itself. Their vision remained locked solely onto one another. Nothing dared to come between them, not even the environment that was being annihilated in their wake. Trees disintegrated into splinters merely from proximity, unable to endure the overwhelming force radiating from their movements.

Their blades moved faster than sight could follow, becoming fleeting silver arcs within a relentless dance of annihilation. Each strike was precise, each motion deliberate, their battle unfolding as a flawless display of transcendent mastery. With another thunderous clash, they collided once more before separating, granting each other a fraction of space for less than a heartbeat. In the next instant, that space was erased entirely, their swords meeting again with deadly accuracy and perfect timing.

Pressure mounted continuously, building with every exchange, as the air itself screamed against their bodies. Yet neither of them paid it any mind. They were far too immersed, far too consumed by the battle to acknowledge something as trivial as the wind’s futile resistance.

In a flicker of vanishing motion, they appeared atop a towering mountain, but the moment they arrived, Debro’s blade moved. A single, effortless slash cut through the massive structure, dividing it into four equal parts with terrifying precision. The mountain crumbled inward, collapsing under its own severed weight. Yet even before the destruction had fully unfolded, both of them were already gone, their speeds climbing even higher as they escalated the tempo without hesitation.

They reappeared upon the crown of a ten-meter-tall tree, their bodies flickering in and out of existence as they clashed repeatedly, resembling two individuals bound by a volatile connection, unable to remain apart, yet equally unable to coexist peacefully. Despite the overwhelming power behind every strike, every movement, and every shift in momentum, the tree beneath them remained untouched, pristine, and unmoving, as though it existed outside the destruction surrounding it.

This was not coincidence, it was mastery.

Their control over their blades was absolute, their footwork so refined it bordered on the impossible. They manipulated their weight with such precision that even a single leaf was sufficient to support them. And indeed, at this very moment, leaves bore their weight effortlessly, unbending beneath forces that could shatter mountains. They had ascended to a realm of control and perfection where even the absurd became natural.

Asher’s rapier flashed brilliantly as he cleaved downward, and with a deafening boom, the tree, and everything aligned with that strike, was erased from existence. A vast chasm, stretching across three kilometers, was carved into the earth, a clean and merciless line of destruction etched into the land itself.

Debro’s figure shifted instantly, appearing elsewhere as he evaded the attack with effortless precision. Yet in less than a second, Asher was already there, closing the distance as though space itself had no meaning. Once again, they met, like opposing poles of a magnet, drawn together by an inevitable force.

The sound of their blades thundered continuously, each collision erupting with violent intensity. Sparks scattered through the air like fleeting stars as their attacks collided, deflected, and countered in rapid succession. Their exchanges reached a level of speed and precision that bordered not only on insanity but on something far beyond it, something incomprehensible.

Had any other sword masters borne witness to this battle, they would have been rendered speechless, capable only of silent awe. These two were not merely skilled, they were embodiments of the sword itself. They did not favor speed over strength, nor strength over speed. They had mastered both to an extent that defied all conventional understanding. Their attacks carved through the air with unerring accuracy, their movements forming a deadly rhythm that resembled a calligraphy of war, each stroke inscribed with mastery, intent, and lethality.

Yet even within such overwhelming offense, there existed balance. For every attack, there was a defense.

For every defense, there was a counter.

Asher fought with absolute intent, to kill, to erase, to bring a definitive end. Debro, in contrast, fought to cripple, to dismantle, to leave nothing awake behind. Their objectives differed, yet neither yielded an advantage. Blow after blow, clash after clash, neither of them succeeded in landing a decisive strike.

But it did not matter. Neither of them had any intention of stopping. Not now. Not ever, until one of them fell.

And until that moment arrived, the battle would continue endlessly, without pause, without hesitation, without mercy, and without reprieve.

By now, the once-beautiful forest had been reduced to utter ruin. Entire kilometers had been erased from existence, as though they had never been there to begin with. The land itself bore the scars of their battle, fractured, shattered, and unrecognizable. And yet, despite the sheer scale of destruction, the battlefield continued to expand, stretching outward as though the forest itself had no end.

And with battles of this magnitude, and even greater, occurring every single day, one could not help but wonder: Exactly how vast was Crymora? Exactly how immense were its forests, its hidden domains, and its unexplored lands?

Was Crymora truly endless... or was it simply so incomprehensibly large that even devastation of this scale meant nothing within its boundless expanse?