Darren did not know how this world perceived the swordswoman before him but among the strongest warriors of Earth, he was sure that she stood near the very peak. And now she herself stood before the greatest swordswoman in all of history.
He had told her the truth.
Her brother was dead.
And Darren was the one who had killed him.
His words had done exactly what he intended them to do.
For a single heartbeat, she had gone completely silent after Darren's confession, the implication of his words sinking deep into her chest.
Then the silence shattered.
She roared.
It was a primal scream that tore its way from her lungs with a force that seemed to shake the air itself. Every ounce of restraint she had once held was gone in that instant. Her code of honor had guided her for years. It had dictated how she fought, how she lived, and even how she faced each and every enemy; monsters from the System's Invasions included.
But that code no longer mattered.
Not now.
Not when the man who had slain her brother stood directly before her, practically inviting her to claim vengeance.
Her feet slammed against the ground as she launched forward.
The charge came with a violent burst of speed, the earth beneath her cracking as she accelerated. Her blade came up immediately, the steel catching the light for only a fraction of a moment before it shot toward Darren with devastating force.
This time she was no longer holding back.
Every strike carried the full weight of her strength, every movement sharpened by the rage burning through her veins. The sword cut through the air with such power that it produced a shriek as the blade displaced the air itself.
Darren saw it all.
He saw the fury blazing within her eyes as she stabbed forward, the hatred that had swallowed the warrior she had once been. It was a look he knew well. And yet, despite the terrifying power behind her attack, the outcome was already decided.
To Darren, the world had slowed to a crawl.
The blade that came for his chest might as well have been moving through sludge. He watched the pull back with perfect clarity, seeing every minute contraction in her muscles, every tiny adjustment in the path of her sword.
It was far too slow.
He stepped to the side.
The sword thrust forward exactly where his heart had been moments earlier, the tip cutting harmlessly through empty air. The force behind the attack carried her slightly forward, the momentum of her charge refusing to stop even as her strike missed its mark.
Darren did not counter.
Instead, his eyes briefly shifted upward toward the corner of his vision. There, a small display continued to linger within his sight.
// MP (Mana Points): 9767 (-500) → 9267 / 5500
Such was the cost of activating the Overdrive of the Internal Arts.
The power flooding through Darren’s body was immense. Magical energy surged through every fiber of his being, racing through his muscles, his veins, his bones. The human body was not designed to withstand this level of Mana. The sheer intensity of it should have torn muscle from bone, ruptured organs, and shredded cells apart from the inside.
The Overdrive of the Internal Arts was infamous for that reason.
It granted overwhelming power for a fleeting moment but the cost was almost always the destruction of the one who used it.
For most warriors, it was nothing more than a desperate final gamble.
The risk was never worth it.
Except for Darren Ittriki.
Because this man possessed something others did not.
It was not merely the Divinity of Dissection. While rare, that power was not unique to him. Members of Clan Ittriki had inherited the same magic throughout their bloodline for generations.
No.
The true difference lay in how Darren understood magic itself.
Every few seconds, his entire form flashed with a deep crimson light.
// MP (Mana Points): 9267 (-100) → 9167 / 5500
The Divinity of Dissection spread through him completely. It flowed across his muscles, his bones, his blood—every part of him becoming imbued with the divine magic that defined his existence, the exact same way it had been imbued through the Ferry of the Dead.
At the exact same time, the destructive magical energy rampaging through his body was torn apart. Before the violent surge from his Pool of Mana could damage him, the Divinity of Dissection cut through it all. Every molecule of unstable power was split apart, dismantled and reduced before it could reach the point of causing true harm. The magic still remained, allowing the benefits of this technique to persist, but the destruction that should have accompanied it was erased entirely.
The Overdrive continued to empower him.
But the cost was gone.
It was a refinement that only Darren could achieve, a perfect exploitation of the power that flowed through his bloodline.
This very elevation had once allowed him to stand against the Dragon King himself. He had nearly defeated the being who would one day ascend and become the God of War. Few mortals could even dream of standing against such an existence.
And yet Darren had come terrifyingly close to victory.
But even this power had limits.
Even this perfected Overdrive was not absolute.
Because there had always been one limitation Darren Ittriki could never overcome.
Time.
No matter how refined his control over magic became, no matter how perfectly he manipulated the Overdrive of the Internal Arts, the seconds continued to slip away from him. Both this technique and his Divinity of Dissection devoured his Mana Points relentlessly,
Eventually, the power would fade.
That meant if he wanted to see what this swordswoman of Earth was truly capable of, it had to happen now.
His eyes remained fixed on her as she recovered from her failed strike.
She was still holding back.
Even through her fury, she was choosing not to draw upon something deeper. Darren could see it clearly in her eyes, the hesitation, the decision not to cross some unseen threshold.
He wasn’t interested in fighting a restrained opponent.
Without warning, he stepped forward.
The movement was effortless, almost casual, yet impossibly fast. His blade came around in a short, brutal arc with the flat side of his weapon.
It slammed into her side.
The impact was devastating.
Her armor crumpled inward the moment the steel connected with it. The reinforced metal buckled and dented as though it were no stronger than thin parchment. The force of the strike lifted her slightly from the ground before throwing her sideways.
She barely managed to keep her footing.
Pain shot through her ribs as the damaged armor dug into her side, the metal warped inward from the blow. But Darren did not pause long enough for her to recover.
He swung again.
This time, the blade came across her chest.
The edge bit into the front of her chest plate and tore straight through it. The reinforced metal shredded apart under the sheer strength of the strike, fragments of armor scattering across the ruined street.
There was no magic behind it.
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No Divinity of Dissection.
Just pure, overwhelming physical force that came from the Overdrive of the Internal Arts.
// MP (Mana Points): 9067 (-500) → 8567 / 5500
Darren had done it so easily that the meaning behind his actions became painfully clear to her.
He wasn’t trying.
To him, this battle was barely a challenge.
The realization settled heavily on the swordswoman as she stumbled backward, broken fragments of armor falling away from her body. Her breathing had grown heavier, but Darren’s posture remained relaxed, his sword held loosely at his side.
He was forcing her hand.
Every strike carried the same message.
If anger and vengeance were not enough to bring out her true strength…
Then perhaps the fear of death would.
The battlefield fell quiet for the briefest moment.
Dust drifted through the air between them, stirred by the violent clashes that had already torn through the ruined city streets.
A flash of red emanated menacingly from Darren.
// MP (Mana Points): 8567 (-100) → 8467 / 5500
And in that silence, the swordswoman made her decision.
If this was truly an all-or-nothing battle, then she would face it the way a warrior should.
She would not die holding back.
The change happened instantly.
Darren saw it the moment she moved again.
For the first time since the battle had begun, he saw that very thing he had been waiting for.
The magic that had been sleeping within her finally awakened.
All this time, the swordswoman had relied entirely on her base physical ability. Every strike, every movement had come from her natural strength and skill alone. No doubt it was impressive. Yet Darren had felt the power within her from the beginning.
A dormant force waiting to be unleashed.
Now it surged to life.
This was the Divinity that belonged to one of Earth’s strongest warriors.
Hers was the Divinity of Momentum.
She accelerated forward, the sudden burst of speed sending debris scattering in every direction. But what made the ability terrifying was not simply how fast she moved.
It was what happened after.
Her next step came even faster.
Then the next.
And the next.
Each stride amplified the previous one.
The force behind her movement multiplied with every step she took, building upon itself in an ever-growing surge of speed and power. The battlefield blurred around her as she pushed forward, the Divinity of Momentum continuously accelerating her body beyond what should have been physically possible. What had once been a straightforward assault had now become something far more dangerous. The longer she moved, the faster she became. The more distance she covered, the greater the force driving her forward.
They raced across the shattered battlefield.
Darren moved first, his figure darting away as the swordswoman pursued him with relentless determination. Buildings flashed past them as the two warriors tore through the ruined city.
The infrastructure had already been fragile before their battle began. Whatever conflict had taken place before the Ferry of the Dead arrived had left the city in a weakened state, its structures barely standing.
Now those fragile remnants were being destroyed completely.
Walls collapsed as shockwaves rippled through the streets. Cracked roads split open beneath their feet as they moved. Sections of buildings crumbled apart simply from the force generated by the swordswoman’s accelerating pursuit.
The city was being dismantled piece by piece.
And still she did not slow down.
No matter what stood in her way—collapsed stone, shattered buildings, twisted debris—she continued forward without hesitation. Obstacles were smashed aside or left behind in an instant as she maintained her relentless advance.
Her speed continued to rise.
The Divinity of Momentum refused to stop building.
The swordswoman would chase Darren across the entire battlefield if she had to.
And she would never slow down.
Even then, Darren never once backed down.
If anything, the battle only seemed to invigorate him further.
A genuine laugh escaped him, cutting through the cacophony of collapsing stone and the shriek of steel clashing against steel. He felt the only kind of exhilaration that only came from standing against a worthy opponent.
He was enjoying himself immensely.
The swordswoman surged toward him with terrifying speed, the Divinity of Momentum continuing to amplify every movement she made. Each step drove her forward faster than the last, the energy behind her charge building into something that could be dangerous.
Yet Darren stood directly in her path.
Her blade slashed toward him in a blinding arc.
Steel met steel.
A shower of sparks burst outward as Darren intercepted the strike effortlessly, his own sword catching hers at just the right angle. Instead of stopping the attack outright, he guided it aside, redirecting the enormous force she carried with her.
The deflection sent her sliding past him.
But she did not stop.
Her feet barely touched the ground before she pivoted, the momentum already carrying her into another attack. The sword flashed again, faster than before, cutting through the air in a precise and deadly strike.
Once more, Darren met it.
Another clash rang out across the ruined battlefield.
Sparks scattered like embers in the wind as Darren redirected her blade again, guiding the violent force away from his body with practiced precision.
Despite the overwhelming velocity behind her attacks, he handled them with astonishing ease.
Again.
And again.
And again.
// MP (Mana Points): 8467 (-500) → 7967 / 5500
Every time their swords collided, Darren absorbed the impact and turned it aside, preventing the full weight of her momentum from ever landing on him directly. There was no real technique to it, only improvisation. Because even with all the training he had been through all his life, he trusted his instinct above all else.
On the other hand, swordswoman had not given up her form.
Given the nature of her Divinity, he had expected her to devolve into something far more reckless. Momentum rewarded relentless motion and overwhelming force, it would have been easy for her to abandon technique entirely in favor of brute acceleration.
But she did not.
Even as her speed continued to climb to absurd levels, she still moved with grace.
Her swordsmanship flowed like a dance. Each step carried intent, each swing connected seamlessly to the next. The blade traced elegant arcs through the air, guided by discipline that had clearly been forged through years of relentless training.
She held onto that technique with everything she had.
And Darren quickly realized something important.
That was the only reason this fight had lasted till now.
Without that control, her momentum would have consumed itself. The escalating force of her movements would have become chaotic, useless without the precision required to direct it. But her style harnessed it. The dance-like rhythm of her swordplay shaped the raw acceleration of her Divinity, turning it into something purposeful.
It fascinated Darren.
His own swordsmanship had always been brutally practical. Every movement existed for one reason, to end the fight as quickly and efficiently as possible. There was no flourish, no elegance beyond what was necessary for victory. Even amidst the destruction surrounding them, there was an undeniable beauty to the way she wielded her blade.
And Darren could not deny that he admired it.
Still, admiration would not change the outcome.
This battle could not continue forever.
Sooner or later, only one of them would remain standing.
And unfortunately for her—
It would not be the swordswoman of Earth.
The moment arrived without warning.
Darren’s sword suddenly flashed with crimson light as magical energy surged along the length of the blade. The red glow pulsed violently, wrapping around the steel hungrily.
// MP (Mana Points): 7967 (-100) → 7867 / 5500
When her sword came down toward him once more, Darren swung in a downward slash.
The two blades met and her weapon shattered instantly.
The crimson magic carved straight through the well-forged steel of her blade as though it were made of glass. His opponent's sword split apart with a sharp, violent crack, fragments scattering outward as the Divinity dismantled the structure of the weapon itself.
But even that did not stop her.
Because her power was still in motion.
The Divinity of Momentum did not care that her blade had been destroyed. The force driving her forward had already been built, and it refused to slow.
She kept coming.
Riding the unstoppable surge of her acceleration, the swordswoman thrust forward without hesitation. What remained of her weapon—nothing more than a jagged, broken length of steel—shot toward Darren yet again.
She would fight until the very end.
Until the last breath left her body.
Then suddenly—
Her eyes widened.
A brilliant explosion of golden light erupted behind Darren.
The flash illuminated the ruined city in an instant, its radiance bursting outward like a miniature sun. The sudden brilliance forced the swordswoman’s attention away from her opponent for the briefest fraction of a second.
She hesitated.
Just for a moment.
It wasn't just their levels of power that were different.
There were no allies left for her here. She did not know what to make of the explosion behind her, it was simply instinct overriding focus in a single split second when the fight would be decided.
But Darren did not pay it any mind.
He didn’t need to.
Because he trusted Marianne with his life
Whatever battle was unfolding behind him—whatever clash had produced that radiant burst of golden magic—Darren already knew how it would end.
The marksman never stood a chance. Because Marianne Elarion was the Wicked Witch of Humanity and just like Darren, she would undoubtedly emerge victorious.
Which meant there was no reason to prolong this fight any further.
The time had come.
Darren’s eyes narrowed as he swung his blade back to deliver the killing blow.
It was time to end this battle.
Once and for all.
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