Chapter 2314 Quintessence (1)

Chapter 2314 Quintessence (1)

Dyon's scythe weaved in and out of attacking and defensive positions as though a rotating blade. It twirled around his palms and wrists with a flexibility that exceeded its rigid body.

Compared to his 109th lifetime, his skill was on a complete other level. Even despite never having used a scythe in his life before this, his foundation in wielding weapons was beyond what anyone could imagine. How many times had he discarded a weapon he had reached the top with, only to choose another and build himself back up once again?

He tread along the path of the sword, the saber, the spear, the rod, the bow, the knife, the ax... He had touched upon the profundities of so many that he was an enigmatic existence no matter which was being spoken about. for new novels

Tapping into this knowledge, his pace of progress with the scythe was blinding.

Above him, the Soul Tome floated, wafting out with beautiful pleasing yellow lights every so often.

"We'll call this [Disguised Gale]... Call this one [Hidden Depths].... And this one, name it [Last Call]..."

Every time Dyon's indifferent voice fell, the movement of his scythe would change that another glow would light the tome as it flipped to a new page.

First his scythe seemed to blend into the air, leaving a faint trail of grey fog in its wake. Even with it flickering before Aritizia's eyes, she found it hard to grasp.

Despite this, her palm struck out, calmly deflecting it. But, with each parry, the pressure mounted on her. It felt like Dyon was growing more skilled with each passing moment, slowly increasing the gravity around her until her knees grew weak.

But, just when it seemed that she would be forced into a corner, the atmosphere changed once again.

This time, the movement of Dyon's scythe became ethereal. No, that wasn't how it should be described. It was very real. It was right before her eyes and carried a 'mystery' so simple that it felt as though she could reach out and touch it. Yet, whenever she tried, it would pull back just that little bit more, causing her to have to reach further and further, only to never touch upon the goal she was looking for in the first place.

The blade of the scythe no longer hid in the shadows. Aritzia's palm continued to descend, but every time she blocked a strike, her arm would shudder.

Toward this, her beautiful eyes couldn't help but tremble slightly. She was certain that her strength was still beyond Dyon's. Not only was it still beyond, she felt that it was by an unimaginable margin. She couldn't for the life of her understand why it was that despite their apparent gap, their collisions seemed unable to decide a winner or a loser.

The pressure continued to mount. As though following a pattern, strikes that had been easy to parry in the beginning became more and more enigmatic.

After several exchanges that lasted no more than a couple breaths of time, Aritzia finally understood. Every time Dyon sent an attack forward, she would subconsciously react with what she felt was the perfect amount of strength. However, somehow, that strength would always fall short by a small margin, causing her to be on the losing end.

Once again, just when she was about to be forced into a corner, Dyon's movements suddenly changed.

Deciding this battle in a short time for them was an impossibility...

"[Infinite Palm]."

Aritzia's delicate voice entered Dyon's ears, a single dainty palm pushing slowly through the air. However, this singular palm carried the same momentum as Dyon's recently created [Last Call]. It felt as though it carried the pressure of a world.

Dyon's fighting intent blazed as well. He swung his scythe forward in a simple strike that combined everything of his recently created techniques.

BANG!

Their first collision was slow beyond compare. It felt as though they were each struggling against the pressure of the other's strike, walking through a wall of wind to reach their destination.

Their steps couldn't be paused, the light in their gazes only growing more and more furious with each passing moment.

The instant a small palm met the blade of a scythe, it was as though all the sound in the world had been sucked into a single point, unable to escape the singularity and painting the illusion that not a single thing had happened.

Then, it began.

Their slow strikes suddenly accelerated.

To one side, there was a blazing sun. Only every so often would one catch the profundity of a palm that seemed to slow one's concept of time, leaving one completely engrossed in its mysteries.

On the other, there was an abyss of darkness. From within it, a rainbow chain and scythe would occasionally snake outward, meeting the profundities of the palms with an overwhelming simplicity. It almost felt like watching a toddler practice their first set of martial techniques, putting all their effort forward and just barely coming to a point of being able to imitate their seniors.

Yet, these simple strikes seemed to carry the weight of the world.

However, as time went on, it really did seem like it was impossible to meet simplicity with complexity. The palms were simply too overwhelming.

It was impossible to tell when their exchange of strikes seemed to always take center stage, but a world had long since appeared around them.

When one looked at this world, it seemed obvious why one would avoid looking at it. Even a simple glance toward an ordinary flower would leave one with a splitting headache as though their souls had been drained in that very moment.

It felt as though too much information was coming all at once without any reprieve.