Chapter 59 — Inevitable clash III
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He tore left instantly as the energy blades destroyed the tree, the trunk exploding apart as wood and bark shattered outward, while about three landed on his back, slicing in with burning force that carved through his flesh.
Right where he was running to, Elder Fotio was already waiting for him with a straight thrust directly aimed at his forehead—precise, controlled, and already set in place like he had predicted the exact line of escape.
If it was any other warrior here, this should be their end—but this is Socrates...
Socrates isn't the Socrates of six months ago... He's someone with an Ocean Rank physique which can rival a mid Qi Condensation Realm cultivator...
At that moment, Socrates instinctively shifted all the weight of his body leftward, his muscles violently adjusting under pressure, as the thrust pierced into his right shoulder, impaling it clean through.
Socrates couldn't scream as the sword was pulled out at once, tearing free with a wet resistance—and before he could even make any move, Elder Fotio launched a cross slash which formed an X across his back, completely destroying his suit as the energy marks seared deep into his flesh.
The force pushed him forward violently as he staggered, dropping on one knee while holding his wounded shoulder, his body trembling under accumulated impact.
Cough... cough...
Socrates spat out a mouthful of blood as the pain seemed to transfer from his muscle joints into his nervous system, sending violent signals across his body, down to his medulla oblongata.
Elder Fotio chuckled as he swayed his sword lightly, the blade rotating with controlled ease in his grip.
With a casual but controlled swing, he aimed for Socrates' head as the energy blade rushed toward his neck, cutting through the air with a sharp hiss.
But was it today Socrates has been in a life-and-death situation?
Socrates' sixth sense flared as his perception increased sharply, his awareness expanding at the edge of survival, causing him to lower his body just enough that both the blade and its heat passed above him without contact.
This was a surprise to Elder Fotio, who thought the boy was already on his last leg.
He immediately followed with a thrust—but Socrates had already moved from that position, rolling away into another angle before the strike could lock in.
The red-haired teenager isn't waiting to see action before reacting... He's reacting ahead of time...
And this can't be done just by training... or by cultivation...
This is experience...
Immense experience born from hardship...
Hard training for years in a world created by the Goddess of Death...
Experiencing death almost a thousand times...
Someone who experienced death a thousand times...
He died... resurrected... he died again... and still resurrected...
What do you know about Socrates?
Do you think he's a weakling?
Do you really think he can only rival a Qi Condensation Warrior?
The very moment you realize that the Son of Trueblood is nimbly moving around with four bracelets on all his limbs which weigh 2 boulders...
Boulders... boulders are chunks of mountains cut from solid rock, each weighing over 1000 lbs...
So technically, Socrates is running around with a weight of 2000 lbs added to his own body...
Has Merkules, Mastrile, or Pavliox ever faced the kind of hardship he has faced? Then how on earth does their death look easy?
This is a fight for death... A battle where Socrates is determined to kill his opponent, so he's not holding back...
Not holding back at all, as the pressure he was facing here was far beyond him...
The fight had been going on with Socrates being on the defensive as his sixth sense kept making him aware of where the attacks were coming from and where they were going to land.
"Are you just going to run around like a scaredy cat?" Elder Fotio beckoned—but the Son of Trueblood didn't take the bait.
Although injured, his stamina depth was still monstrous... Meanwhile Elder Fotio was already reaching his limit.
He had dragged the fight out—and now it was working for him.
Elder Fotio, knowing fully well that if the fight dragged further he would be on the losing end, stood his ground and pointed his sword to the sky...
"Multi Crescent Strike..."
He called as he input his energy into the sword. The air around him condensed violently as multiple energy swords began forming above him, one after another, suspended in the air.
They hovered in formation, all humming with unstable energy, all facing upward for a moment like a silent build-up before execution.
"Attack!"
He cried out as the swords were pointed toward Socrates and then released.
---
The energy swords rushed toward Socrates with extreme precision and control, sealing every angle, leaving no gap for clean escape.
Socrates fled immediately.
But the attack was already upon him.
The blades tore through the air with terrifying consistency, and even as he moved, the pressure behind them distorted his timing.
He tried to dodge, weave, shift his body between trajectories—but his perception was still missing fractions of time.
A microsecond.
And that was enough.
Every evasion landed just slightly off.
Not enough to avoid contact.
Some blades scraped his body, cutting shallow lines across his skin. Others carved deeper, opening wounds along his arms, shoulders, and sides.
Blood began to trail behind him in thin, scattered lines as he moved.
His body started to slow—not because he stopped, but because damage accumulated faster than recovery.
Each wound reduced his mobility.
Each graze tightened his margin of survival.
Until his movements began to lose sharpness.
Socrates turned instinctively to avoid a blade aimed at his head—tilting just enough—
But another sword pierced his back.
It burst out from his stomach with brutal force, lifting his body slightly off balance before throwing him forward.
He crashed hard onto the ground.
His limbs went numb for a brief moment.
---
"Hahaha..."
Elder Fotio laughed out loud as he watched Socrates on the ground.
The boy lay in his own pool of blood, breathing unevenly, barely responsive.
"So this is all you amount to..."
Elder Fotio laughed again as he stepped closer, his sword swinging lightly in his hand, confidence returning with each step.
"Look at you..."
His gaze drifted to Socrates' limbs.
"...those bracelets. There must be treasure in them."
His lips curled slightly as he approached, each step controlled, measured.
"I'll kill you and claim those treasures... I'll rip them off your dead body."
He stopped within range.
Then raised his sword high.
---
A blue energy mist surged from the blade, spiraling upward violently into the air as the surrounding atmosphere distorted under pressure.
The energy condensed above him—
Forming another sword in midair.
A massive construct.
Three times larger than his main blade.
Longer.
Heavier.
Denser.
Even Socrates could feel it from the ground—the pressure pinning down his body, making movement feel like it had doubled in weight.
'Move... move... move or you'll die...'
Socrates warned his own body intensely, forcing every fragment of will into motion.
But his body didn't respond.
Blood loss had reached a critical level. His limbs were numb, unresponsive, as if disconnected from his command. Deep cuts covered his entire body, and a large hole remained in his stomach, each breath now shallow and unstable.
He was in a broken state.
And if not for the toughness of his physique, he would have already been dead by now.
But even that endurance had its limit.
Because endurance cannot stop a finishing strike like this.
He needed to move.
He needed to survive.
But his body refused him.
No matter how hard he pushed, no signal returned with full control.
Then it came.
The descent.
Elder Fotio brought his sword down with full control and precision, and the massive energy blade followed instantly, synchronized perfectly with his motion.
It cut through the air with overwhelming pressure, the surrounding space trembling as the force compressed downward.
The wind scattered violently.
The forest itself seemed to quiet for a fraction of a second, as if everything was forced into submission.
Pressure slammed onto Socrates' body before the blade even arrived, pinning him in place, locking his movement completely.
His body could not lift.
Could not roll.
Could not resist.
The Blue Giant Energy Blade descended fully.
It struck the ground with catastrophic force.
A violent explosion erupted outward immediately.
The impact expanded across a 100-meter radius, ripping through trees, soil, and air itself. Dust and debris surged upward in a dense cloud, swallowing the entire battlefield in a single wave.
The ground fractured outward in irregular patterns, as if the earth itself had been split open by force.
Even Elder Fotio was thrown backward by the rebound of his own attack, his body pushed through the air as the shockwave expanded beyond control.
A silence followed after the explosion's peak—
Heavy.
Lingering.
Absolute.
An attack that no one in that vicinity should have survived.
No matter how it was interpreted.