Einar's wings shifted first, shrinking and folding tightly against his back instead of spreading wide, their reduced form no longer meant for intimidation but for efficiency, allowing his movements to become sharper, faster, and far less restricted.
The change was subtle, but the intent behind it was clear—he had abandoned dominance and was now focusing purely on combat.
The next moment, he vanished.
The ground beneath him collapsed a fraction too late as his body shot forward, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, and before most could even register the movement, he was already in front of Ashan, his arm drawn back and swinging forward with devastating force.
The punch landed squarely against Ashan's mask.
The impact cracked the air like thunder, a violent shockwave bursting outward as the force rippled through the ground, shattering stone beneath their feet. It was the kind of strike meant to end the fight instantly.
And yet, Ashan barely moved.
His head snapped back slightly from the force, the mask absorbing the blow, but his body remained rooted in place, unmoved, unshaken.
Behind it, his Sharingan spun rapidly, analyzing every detail of the attack as if it had already expected it.
Einar grinned, something savage flickering across his expression as draconic scales rippled along his arm.
"Not bad for a leech," he muttered, his voice low with aggression. "Let's see how long you can keep up."
He didn't give him time to respond.
His body shifted again, launching forward into another attack, this time a wide, crushing hook aimed at Ashan's ribs.
The motion was fast, brutal, carrying enough force to break through defenses by sheer power alone, but Ashan twisted his body at the last moment, the punch grazing past him instead of landing cleanly, the displaced air whipping violently across the battlefield.
Ashan responded instantly, his leg snapping forward in a precise kick aimed at Einar's knee, but Einar anticipated it, shifting his weight and bringing his elbow down in a crushing counter toward Ashan's shoulder.
The strike cut through the air with frightening speed, yet Ashan slipped aside with minimal movement, his body flowing around the attack instead of resisting it.
There was no wasted motion.
No unnecessary effort.
"Damn leech…!" Einar snarled as he pressed forward, unleashing a relentless barrage of strikes—jabs, crosses, hooks, and uppercuts, each reinforced with draconic mana, each capable of shattering the ground if they connected. The battlefield trembled under the force of his attacks, cracks spreading wherever his blows struck, yet none of them found their target.
Ashan moved through them like a shadow.
He didn't block.
He didn't clash.
He weaved.
His body bent and shifted with unnatural precision, slipping past each strike by the smallest margin possible, his robe fluttering as he rotated, ducked, and pivoted, always just out of reach. To the onlookers, it almost looked unreal, as if he were moving ahead of the attacks rather than reacting to them.
Einar's leg swept low in a vicious arc, aiming to take Ashan off his feet, but Ashan leaped lightly over it, landing with perfect balance before driving a palm strike into Einar's chest. The impact connected cleanly, but Einar's scaled body absorbed most of the force, his frame barely shifting.
"You're fast," Einar admitted through clenched teeth, his eyes burning with intensity. "But speed alone won't save you."
He surged forward again, his attacks growing heavier, more aggressive, abandoning finesse for raw destruction as hooks, elbows, and crushing swings rained down like a storm. Each strike carried enough force to cripple, yet Ashan continued to evade them, his Sharingan tracking every movement, every shift in muscle, every change in rhythm.
From the outside, the difference became clear.
Einar was overwhelming.
Ashan was untouchable.
Beneath the mask, Ashan's lips curved slightly as his thoughts sharpened.
'He's fast… ridiculously fast. Strong too. But everything he does follows a pattern. No wasted movement, perfect balance, every strike calculated… and yet, to my eyes, it's all visible.'
His gaze flickered, analyzing.
'He's adjusting. His accuracy is improving with each exchange. He's learning.'
A faint grin formed.
'Good.'
Ashan shifted his stance slightly.
'Let's test something.'
He feinted a step back, baiting Einar forward, drawing him deeper into range before his movement changed completely.
This time, he attacked.
A sharp jab snapped forward, striking Einar's jaw before he could react, followed immediately by a left hook that cracked against his temple. The sudden shift in rhythm broke Einar's momentum, his body staggering slightly as the impact registered, but Ashan didn't stop there.
A right uppercut followed instantly, driving upward into his chin, snapping his head back before a rapid combination of strikes hammered into his ribs, each blow precise, controlled, and far faster than before.
Then,
Something changed.
The next strike landed,
[Black Flash]
A distorted surge of energy rippled outward, space itself seeming to warp for a fraction of a second as the force penetrated through Einar's scaled defense, producing a sharp, explosive sound that cut through the battlefield.
Einar roared, his body recoiling as cracks spread across the scales that had previously resisted almost everything.
His pupils shrank.
'What was that…?'
His thoughts raced even as he swung a counterattack, his instincts screaming.
'That wasn't mana… something else… something dangerous.'
Ashan slipped beneath the counter effortlessly, his body moving with fluid precision as he drove a crushing blow into Einar's side, followed by another strike to the liver that forced a grunt from him.
Without giving him space, Ashan pressed forward, a barrage of fast, controlled punches targeting weak points, each hit calculated, each movement efficient.
Einar was forced back.
Step by step.
For the first time, the flow of the fight had shifted completely.
This was no longer a clash of brute force.
It had become a fight of precision.
"Unbelievable…" Einar growled, wiping blood from his nose, his voice filled with both fury and disbelief. "Since when did leeches learn to fight like this?"
He threw a desperate, heavy punch, a haymaker meant to crush through everything in its path, but Ashan ducked low, his movement minimal, and countered instantly with an overhand strike that slammed into Einar's face, snapping his head back and drawing blood.
A visible reaction rippled through the onlookers.
The difference was clear now.
Einar was being outplayed.
Humiliation twisted his expression as rage surged through him, his mana flaring violently as his wings snapped outward again, power gathering rapidly within his body.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He bent low, compressing all that force into his legs before launching forward in a single explosive burst.
His body rotated mid-air, both legs driving forward like a descending meteor, the speed and force behind it enough to crush anything in its path.
Ashan didn't move.
He stood still.
Completely still.
His Mangekyou spun rapidly.
Einar's strike passed through him.
Not blocked.
Not deflected.
Through him.
For a brief moment, his mind went blank as his attack met no resistance, his body continuing forward from its own momentum before he could process what had just happened.
The force carried him across the battlefield, his wings slicing into the ground as he skidded violently before forcing himself to stop.
Silence fell for a fraction of a second.
Einar turned, confusion overtaking his anger.
Ashan was still there. Standing in the exact same spot.
Unharmed.
'What… was that?
Ashan's shoulders began to shake.
A low laugh escaped him, quiet at first, then growing deeper, carrying something close to mockery.
Einar's expression darkened.
"You bastard… what did you just do?"
Ashan crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly.
"I wonder," he said casually. "I just decided not to get hit."
"Stop playing around!" Einar snapped. "Explain it!"
Ashan began walking toward him slowly, his steps unhurried.
"Curious?" he said. "Fine. I'll tell you."
His gaze remained fixed.
"It's one of my defensive techniques. One of the highest-level ones. It allows me to become intangible whenever I choose."
Einar's eyes widened.
"What…?!"
Ashan let out a faint, mocking sound.
"Unfair, right? Don't worry, I can't use it freely while fighting," he added, his tone almost amused. "And honestly, I don't like using it too much. It feels like cheating."
A small pause.
"But with you…" he continued, a hint of cold amusement slipping into his voice, "I made an exception."
His smile faded.
"That reaction of yours was worth it."
If looks could kill, Ashan would have been torn apart already.
"I'll kill you!" Einar roared.
Ashan's expression shifted.
The amusement disappeared completely.
"Well… that's enough playing around," he said, his voice dropping into something far colder. "Now that I think about it, I'm wasting time on something worthless."
He stopped walking.
"You couldn't land a single proper hit on me," he continued, his tone flat. "Is that really everything you've got?"
He slammed his foot into the ground, the sound echoing sharply.
"You should've realized by now," he added, his gaze hardening, "that I'm not someone you can deal with using just physical strength. If you still don't understand that, then you don't deserve to be called an S-ranker."
There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his tone turning sharper.
"And one more thing," he said. "You keep calling me a vampire."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'm not."
A step forward.
"I'm human. In every way that matters."
The air grew heavier again.
"So if you're going to fight," he continued, his voice carrying a quiet, dangerous edge, "then stop holding back and use everything you have."
His gaze locked onto Einar completely.
"Because right now…"
"…this is just boring."