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Looking up, she saw Oliver standing still, his palm extended toward her, his expression calm and collected.

The faint glow of residual energy pulsed from his hand, fading slowly into the night air like the last embers of a dying flame.

He had attacked in that split second while she was distracted, but she had reacted just in time to block it. The palm strike had been stealthy and brimming with energy.

Had it struck anyone else, they would have been heavily wounded.

She glanced down at her hand, her claws trembling faintly from the residual force, and felt her lips curl in a sneer.

Her fingers twitched involuntarily, the tingling sensation crawling up her arm like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

She could feel the flow of pure espera on her skin, leaving her with the unsettling sensation of ants crawling over her hand. Disgusted, she swiftly erased the traces with her own dark espera.

The black energy that surged from her palm swirled and hissed like smoke devouring sunlight, erasing the remnants of his strike. Her expression twisted into one of disdain.

Oliver appeared outwardly calm, but he was struggling to hide his shock. He had used [Eternal Twelve Lies Palm] to sneakily attack her, expecting it to cause significant damage. Instead, the result was far beyond his expectations.

Not only had she managed to block the attack at the last moment, but it had merely pushed her back a few steps.

He watched her closely, searching for any subtle signs of damage—a wince, a stiff movement—but there was none. She stood unbroken, as though his strike had been little more than an annoyance.

There wasn’t even a scratch on her body—just a disgusted expression. The espera he had channeled into her had been effortlessly expelled.

His mind raced, trying to calculate her limits. But the more he observed, the less he felt he was even close to understanding the true breadth of her strength.

This was the first time someone had emerged so unscathed from that technique. He sighed; this woman was far tougher and more dangerous than he had anticipated.

The pressure in the air thickened as he adjusted his grip on his weapon, his fingers tightening against the hilt as though it might ground him.

The faint sheen of sweat on his brow betrayed the strain he was under, though his expression never faltered.

Sera’s eyes darkened as she stared at Oliver. It was the first time she’d been pushed back by an insignificant human, and it was humiliating, especially in front of her subordinates. A hint of killing intent flashed in her gaze.

Her lips parted slightly, revealing sharp teeth clenched in frustration, and her aura surged around her in erratic bursts, like a storm gathering power.

The atmosphere around her shifted violently, the air snapping like a taut wire as her aura surged in response. The gathered demons stiffened, sensing the change in their captain.

Their collective breath hitched as the oppressive energy spread outward, seeping into the night like invisible smoke, suffocating and cold.

Oliver’s lips curled into a faint smile. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and goosebumps rose on his skin as her dangerous glare bore into him.

The smile wasn’t out of confidence—it was the expression of a man walking a knife’s edge, fully aware of the danger but unwilling to back down.

"She’s not invincible," he thought, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "She bleeds like the rest of us… she has to." But even as he thought it, doubt slithered into the back of his mind.

He glanced at his surroundings, taking in the demons’ formation. Despite everything, they had no openings; it was as tight as ever.

Every step he might take, every possible escape route, had already been accounted for. It was suffocating, like standing inside a cage while the walls closed in.

Swish!

He heard a swishing sound and caught sight of a sliver of light flashing by. Tilting his neck, a sharp dagger grazed his skin, leaving a thin line of blood on the left side of his neck.

The sting came almost immediately, the warmth of his blood trickling down his skin in a single, thin line. His breath hitched, more out of surprise than pain.

His skin, tougher than the average person’s, had barely withstood the blow. The dagger, however, was crafted from some special metal.

A faint metallic tang lingered in the air, the dagger spinning once before embedding itself into the dirt with a muted thud.

Looking at Sera’s nonchalant expression, it was clear she was ready to escalate things to the final stage.

A rapier appeared in his hand as he assumed a stance. Sera raised a brow. For some reason, the vibe around him had changed.

It wasn’t just the weapon that caught her attention; it was the way he held himself now—his body poised like a coiled spring, his breathing steady and deliberate.

It was now different.

This stance…

She pondered, her instincts warning her that this was no ordinary stance. Though rapier users weren’t uncommon, none she’d encountered had sparked her interest. Yet, Oliver’s stance carried an air of something she couldn’t quite place.

It felt familiar, as if it belonged to a time long past, a style born of forgotten wars and ancient duels. A faint prickle of unease crept down her spine.

Was that a special technique? She trusted her instincts the most, and they were telling her that it was not simple.

Maintaining her vigilance, she prepared to strike first with thunderous speed.

Whizz!

The sound of air being pierced rang out as she thrust her weapon forward, appearing before Oliver in an instant.

Her movement blurred, the ground beneath her cracking as her speed propelled her forward like a living bolt of lightning.

He was ready. Without hesitation, he executed the technique he knew best for the rapier:

[Sovereign Strike of Infinite Freedom].

The rapier moved like liquid silver, its edge carving through the air in a single, fluid arc that seemed almost too fast to follow.

Sera’s eyes widened as she sensed the impact coming.

Boom!

The clash was instant, loud, and explosive. The force reverberated across the terrain.

"Ugh!"

The demons watched as Oliver was sent flying, crashing heavily into a rocky wall.

____________ Your journey continues on

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