On the stage, Rakan's fist hurtled toward Max's head. Max ducked beneath it and drove a punch toward Rakan's ribs, and Rakan took the blow directly.
Boom!
The force slammed into his body, but this time Rakan slid back only half a step. The Third Limit allowed his flesh to absorb and disperse the impact, while the Second Limit kept his frame perfectly stable.
Rakan grinned. "Your punch is still strong, but it is no longer enough."
Max regarded him calmly.
Rakan stepped forward again with his battle intent blazing even higher. "So, Max Morgan, will you open the second vein?"
Max did not answer right away. The Vein of Origin continued to rumble within him, steady and profound, but the pressure of Rakan's Third Limit was now unmistakably pressing against its edge. Max looked at Rakan's bronze war body and smiled faintly.
"You really are worthy of testing my body."
Rakan's grin turned wild once more. "Then stop holding back."
