MIGHT AS WELL BE OP-Chapter 309: Physical

Lucian stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what had just transpired.

He couldn’t believe it.

He hadn’t sensed anything, not a flicker, not a whisper of the incoming attack.

His instincts, honed through countless battles, had utterly failed him.

But while Lucian remained motionless, Aaaninja did not.

With practiced precision, Aaaninja’s hand shifted once more, poised to deliver another strike.

Lucian’s body reacted before his mind could catch up.

In an instant, he propelled himself away, the ground beneath him fracturing under the sheer force of his movement.

He crossed kilometers in the blink of an eye.

Yet, it was futile. Enjoy more content from novelbuddy

Aaaninja had completed his swing.

Then, it happened again.

Another tear, ripping through his flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Distance was meaningless.

Defense was irrelevant.

The attack carved through his body all the same.

But to Lucian, it didn’t matter.

His body mended itself effortlessly, flesh weaving back together without the slightest strain on his mana.

Regeneration, an ability he had stolen from vampires and other races, ensured he remained whole, no matter how many times he was torn apart.

Yet, despite his unyielding recovery, Lucian’s mind raced.

Something wasn’t right.

His Absolute Copy ability allowed him to perceive the inner workings of any skill he sought to replicate.

Before Lucian Darkheart, no technique remained hidden, no trump card veiled.

He could unravel and claim any ability, stripping his foes of their secrets with ease.

The only thing beyond his grasp was an artifact.

And Aaaninja was no exception.

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Lucian had dissected Aaaninja’s abilities the moment his name was spoken.

Every skill, every technique, laid bare before his Absolute Copy.

But then, everything changed.

When Aaaninja attained True Enlightenment, the clarity Lucian once had vanished.

He could no longer perceive Aaaninja’s abilities.

Not just the new ones, even those he had already seen before were gone, as if erased from existence.

Only one person had ever bypassed his Absolute Copy before, Anthony.

And that, Lucian could understand.

But this?

Lucian’s mind churned, analyzing every possibility.

There had to be an explanation.

Was Aaaninja sending his attacks through time?

Suddenly.

Lucian stopped.

The Sword Intent that had once danced and injured his body dissipated, his wounds sealing flawlessly in an instant.

Then, he looked at Aaaninja.

A smirk played at his lips.

And in the next breath, he was gone.

When he reappeared, he was already upon Aaaninja, his katana slicing toward his neck with lethal precision.

Aaaninja’s blade moved in response, fast, impossibly fast, guided by instinct and unerring accuracy.

Clang

The clash of steel thundered through the battlefield.

A shockwave erupted, warping the air and tearing through the terrain, leaving devastation in its wake.

But something had changed.

The Sword Intent that once surged through their blades had vanished, completely.

Not just that.

Mana.

Aura.

Every trace of energy had been stripped away, leaving only the raw weight of steel and the skill of their wielders.

Aaaninja’s brow furrowed.

He could feel it, an unseen force smothering all forms of power, rendering them useless.

His sharp gaze flicked to Lucian.

This was his doing.

Lucian’s skill [Null Field]

Originally, this skill could only nullify mana within a limited zone and for a set duration.

But under Lucian’s control, its scope had evolved.

Now, Null Field could erase all energies, Sword Intent, Aura, Mana, reducing them to nothingness.

Lucian didn’t waste time analyzing how Aaaninja had wounded him.

He simply chose to erase the factors that made it possible.

By nullifying mana and Sword Intent, he nullified the attack itself.

Yet, he now understood the skill Aaaninja had used.

[Reverse Causality]

A skill that set the effect before the cause had even occurred.

What an utterly broken ability.

With their energies sealed, there was only one path left, pure physical combat.

Both warriors reached the same conclusion in an instant.

And in that instant, they vanished.

Their bodies sliced through the air with unnatural ease, their only goal, to claim victory over the other.

Their blades met in a relentless storm of steel.

In mere seconds, they had clashed over a million times, each strike faster and sharper than the last.

The earth trembled beneath their movements, the sheer force of their battle fracturing the ground.

The wind howled, torn apart by their speed.

Even without mana.

Even without Sword Intent.

Their attacks remained just as devastating.

Each moved with a singular purpose, to draw the other’s blood.

Lucian’s attacks were relentless, his katana a blur of lethal precision, wielded with the mastery of a Grandmaster.

He didn’t slow.

He didn’t pause.

He didn’t think.

Every motion fed into the next, an unbroken cycle of destruction.

Left. Right. Right. Right. Left. Right.

There was no pattern, no rhythm, no set sequence of strikes.

Yet it didn’t matter.

It only unleashed chaos upon the battlefield.

But Aaaninja was no less formidable.

With every attack Lucian launched, Aaaninja responded with staggering ease, his own mastery of swordsmanship on full display.

Parry. Defend. Deflect. Block.

His wrist, elbow, and hand moved like lightning, meeting each of Lucian’s strikes with flawless precision.

For every blow Lucian struck, Aaaninja countered with a perfect defense, as if anticipating the very trajectory of his opponent’s blade.

Their feet danced across the battlefield, each movement a testament to their skill.

Jagged spikes of rock erupted from the ground, dust clouded the air, and debris rained down, yet nothing could halt these two calamities.

Sword marks etched deep into the earth, the very land trembling beneath their fury.

Both warriors exhibited the depth of their mastery, their foundations in swordsmanship unshakable, their talent undeniable.

They moved in a deadly rhythm, their blades flashing like lightning bolts ripped from the very heart of a storm god’s fury.

Swords blurred through the air, carving arcs of silver wind, as if their blades were the very embodiment of a legendary duel, each strike a perfect display of deadly precision.

They exploited every weakness, every flaw, no matter how small or fleeting.

Even the nonexistent vulnerabilities were not spared.

They attacked relentlessly, as if the slightest misstep could spell the end.

Sparks erupted, lighting up the battlefield with each collision of their blades.

Eyes. Neck. Head. Heart. Kidney. Ribs.

Every vulnerable point, every area that could deliver a fatal blow, was targeted in a relentless barrage of strikes.

Yet, each attack was met with flawless precision, as both Grandmasters parried with the grace and skill of duelists at the peak of their craft.

Their swords wove a tapestry of light and shadow, each feint and strike intricately stitching the fabric of their battle.

The air itself seemed to hum with tension, vibrating with the power of each exchange.

Every movement was deliberate, refined, and honed, each one a perfect extension of the blade, and a reflection of the warriors who wielded them.

The air thickened with each swing, every movement sharpened by instinct, as if their blades were extensions of their very souls, an inseparable part of their being.

In that moment, they seemed equal.

They seemed to exist in perfect equilibrium.

They seemed balanced, as if neither could claim the upper hand.

But like all things, this balance would not last.

All battles reach their conclusion.

And this one, too, would come to an end.