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The destructive force rampaged wildly, erasing everything in its path. The sky split open, or so one might have thought, as the sheer magnitude of the power warped space itself and the trajectory twisted in a jagged pattern before it plunged straight toward Rodrick’s head.
There was no avoiding it. Even slowed down by being fixed into the form of a breath attack, the light still traveled far faster than sound. Rodrick made his decision the moment he saw it.
“Every time I see a dragon’s Breath, I can’t help thinking…” he muttered, raising the Holy Sword directly in front of him and stepping forward.
His body did not move ahead so much as the world fell away behind him, showing the absurd mastery of his footwork technique. Heaven and earth moved in harmony with him. Mana in the area reversed its flow to follow the direction of his step. It was the very essence of the state of Naturality, the pinnacle of formlessness, where every slight motion was echoed by the world around him.
He continued his thought. “For something that’s supposed to be a transcendent kind’s ultimate attack, it’s awfully crude.”
With that simple dismissal, Rodrick thrust the sword. It was a basic thrust, nothing more. A strike aimed at a single point, not even something worthy of being called a secret technique.
To pit such a simple motion against the mountain-breaking force of a dragon’s breath was madness. Even a novice could guess how such a clash should end. Who measures a mountain and an ant against each other?
However. The tip of Rodrick’s sword dissolved into the air. He had elevated the strike to a realm that even a dragon’s perception could not track. Beyond physics, beyond the visible world, the blade...
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