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Eugene and Molon had changed the place of their sparring months ago.
It wasn't that they had stopped controlling their strength. No. Instead, both had grown accustomed to unleashing their full power without destroying their surroundings. They were able to focus solely on each other.
Just as Eugene had become familiar with Molon's strength and style of combat, Molon had completed the rehabilitation of power he had not used in hundreds of years. He had recovered a battle sense he had long forgotten.
Raguyaran.
It was the edge of the world, a land of nothingness. A still sea was visible in the far distance, but no sound of waves reached one’s ear. No living thing could be found in this empty land between mountains and sea.
'I am….' Molon gripped his axe with both hands as he thought.
Eugene stood at a distance. His right hand was clasped around the handle of the Holy Sword, and his posture was relaxed and seemingly effortless. However, it was not a reflection of his arrogance. That composure and tranquility were the precursors of myriad possibilities. It allowed Eugene to act and respond in an instant.
'I will no longer be able to defeat Hamel,' Molon acknowledged the fact with a calm acceptance.
He had known it for some time. He had come to this inevitable conclusion half a year ago when Eugene’s sword had first sliced through his axe.
From that point on, the countless possibilities within Eugene had surpassed the power Molon had attained.
The two had sparred daily for half...
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