Jessor leaped from the platform with a decisive step, as if severing his connection with the world behind him. Diako didn't hesitate for a moment; he followed him immediately and fell steadily beside him.
The two stood facing each other, separated only by the breath of war. Gesor raised his sword, which flashed with a sharp green gleam, slicing through the air like a merciless blade. On the opposite side, Diako advanced slowly, the number seven on his forehead glowing intensely, like an ancient symbol that awakens with every heartbeat.
The sword collided with the fist.
The ground shook beneath their feet, and a green light, mingled with dark sparks, swirled around them. Despite the force of the impact, neither of them moved more than a single step… a stark stalemate that worried everyone.
Jessor laughed lightly and said:
"You're still using the same positions... you haven't changed, Diako."
Diako replied, skillfully turning his body:
"I didn't need to change... you're the one who changed."
His words vanished the instant his fist lashed out; it was no ordinary blow, for the air itself seemed to swirl around it. Jessur raised his sword and parried the strike, but the force of the impact dragged him several meters until he sank to his feet, catching himself.
Jessor muttered with an angry smile:
"Pure power… this is exciting."
He disappeared in an instant.
It appeared behind Diako, its sword descending like a bright green arc. Diako raised his arm to deflect it, but the flash pierced the air near his shoulder, forcing him to leap backward with lightning speed.
He whispered to himself:
"His speed... increased."
But Gessor gave him no time, unleashing a barrage of dozens of blows, each heavier than the last. Yet Diako swayed, blocked, turned, and dodged, as if he had practiced each shot beforehand.
Suddenly, Diako stamped his foot on the ground, and at that very moment, the number seven vanished from his forehead. The ground beside Gesor exploded, before the real Diako sprang out of it with lightning speed.
Jessur shouted as he pointed his sword:
"A copy? The real one is out of this world!"
The real Diako collided with him, but before he could continue fighting, the fake Diako attacked Gesor, sending him flying a great distance before he got up. As soon as he stood, the fake one vanished like smoke.
Jessur muttered:
"Hmm… he can't make it last long."
Yell:
"You still possess that brutal power, Diako."
Diako replied:
"And you... you're still training like you're fighting the world."
Smoke rose around them like a gray curtain.
The two of them rushed forward together—
Jessur's sword gleamed with swirling lines, and Diako's fist was enveloped in a dark light that pulsed powerfully. This time, the collision ripped through the air itself, and the entire arena trembled.
They retreated by the same distance.
The same stability.
The same strength.
Astonishment appeared in Jesor's eyes.
Diako raised his eyebrow and said calmly:
"If you want to finish me off… you need more than that."
Jessor raised his sword firmly:
"I haven't started yet."
…
Moments after they stepped off the platform, a massive explosion rocked it completely. Ice flew through the air, and black lightning streaked across the sky like angry snakes.
Baran flew through the air and crashed into a building, but immediately got up and darted towards the source of the explosion. Meanwhile, Narvik was thrown into the air, but ice stuck to his feet before he fell, allowing him to land safely. He drew his sword and also set off towards the scene.
The dust from the first explosion hadn't even settled when another blast ripped through the air, and the two of them were propelled in the same direction. Baran and Narvik stood with difficulty thanks to the ice.
Baran said, gritting his teeth:
"Oh Narvik… the difference between skill level and existence level… is terrifying."
Narvik answered without hesitation:
"That's right. And don't forget that he's injured, and there are those who will help us. Just bear with it a little longer."
The dust gradually faded away… and Qiando appeared.
He walked calmly, his confidence preceding his steps, his gaze shifting between the battlefield of Jessur and Diako, and between Baran and Narvik. He turned to them and smiled as if watching prey.
He said carefully:
"Hmm… you two are strong, but I have never seen you in this city before. Are you guests of the Green Sword Clan?"
He stepped forward and stood directly in front of them.
Baran replied coldly:
"Yes, we are guests. Do you have any objection?"
Qiandu laughed lightly:
"No, no… but you will both die now."
He took out his gloves and put them on slowly. Baran and Narvik did not wait; Narvik drew his sword, while Baran extended his hand and the black lightning gathered to form a long, trembling spear.
The three of them set off towards each other—