Bzz!
Midnight's expression changed drastically.
He did not hesitate for even a moment—he immediately activated his teleportation. Space twisted, and his figure vanished in the blink of an eye.
Boom!
Marco swung down the arm covered by the Aries Gold Cloth's gauntlet.
Though it was only a straight hand-blade strike, the effect was like that of a sharp sword, carving a long, deep trench into the ground.
"Still not quite there..."
Looking at the Excalibur he had just used, Marco shook his head.
This was a skill he had trained himself, and it was nowhere near the same as the Excalibur he could unleash while wearing the Capricorn Gold Cloth.
It really did deserve a "needs more practice."
Of course, even if the result seemed mediocre to Marco, that was only by his standards.
If that blow had really landed on a person, not even several lives would have been enough to survive it.
After all, this was Excalibur, a conceptually all-cutting attack.
Even though Marco had not yet mastered it, it was still far beyond what ordinary mages could withstand.
"Good thing I dodged it!"
Midnight's heart trembled violently.
If he had failed to avoid that, wouldn't he have been split in half from head to toe? Could his distorted space have protected him?
Midnight did not dare gamble on that question at all. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him not to take the attack head-on.
And the facts proved he had made the right choice. When he had used teleportation just now, even the folded and twisted space had almost been affected.
Marco's hand-blade strike had already destabilized space itself.
"You..."
Staring fixedly at Marco, Midnight suddenly felt the pressure crash down on him.
His magic, which had always worked flawlessly, was completely ineffective against this man.
Bzzzz!!!
Midnight used Space Distortion again.
He frantically twisted the space around Marco, trying to crush his entire body inside it—compress him into pulp with spiraling space itself.
Since he could not twist that strange armor, then he would just distort the surrounding space instead.
In Midnight's mind, the effect would be more or less the same. In fact, distorting space was even harder to guard against or dodge.
Yet Marco's reaction was calm.
His figure vanished in an instant, completely slipping out of the distorted area.
"How is that possible?!"
Midnight's eyes widened so much they nearly split.
He simply could not understand it.
That entire patch of space had already been twisted into that state by him—so how could Marco still use teleportation to escape?
How could he pass through such distorted space?
Midnight had clearly fallen into the trap of relying on his own experience.
His own teleportation worked by folding space, so he assumed Marco's operated on the same principle.
Space folding bent, compressed, and then restored a section of space, creating the effect of "instant movement" or a "spatial jump."
Because of that, Midnight needed the surrounding space to remain stable.
In a completely spiraled, twisted region like this, even Midnight himself would have difficulty using teleportation to get out, because that space was effectively blocked off.
Unfortunately for him, Marco's teleportation did not involve such complicated mechanics.
His was much simpler: point-to-point, direct, precise instant movement.
Marco reappeared off to the side. Instead of pressing the attack, he raised a finger and wagged it at Midnight, the mockery overflowing from the gesture.
"Kid, you're not there yet. You need more practice."
To Midnight, Marco's words were the ultimate humiliation.
Midnight had always been proud, deeply confident in his own strength.
He had even come to believe that he had surpassed Brain—the "leader" he regarded as both father and teacher—and become the true strongest member of Oración Seis.
And yet, he was only twenty years old this year—just one year older than Marco, about the same age as Jellal.
His future should have been full of promise.
Before meeting Marco, Midnight had never imagined there would come a day when he felt this much pressure.
For the first time, Midnight suddenly felt like he understood Jellal.
That guy had once been a genius too.
At a young age, he had already become one of the Ten Wizard Saints.
Although Oración Seis had never thought much of that title, Jellal's strength was definitely not weak.
The one who had reduced Jellal to his current state... the one who had beaten all desire to resist out of him... this Marco was truly no ordinary opponent.
He really was the real deal.
Of course, Jellal had not actually been broken that thoroughly.
It was not as though he had been beaten senseless or lost his mind. His refusal to cooperate had more to do with remorse for what he had done in the past.
He simply did not want to keep aiding evil.
Clearly, Midnight and the others still had not understood that Jellal had only returned to normal after Marco restored his true memories and freed him from Ultear's control.
That was why he refused to fight the alliance—not because Marco had beaten him so badly that he no longer dared to fight anyone.
That said, if Jellal were asked to fight Marco again, he definitely would not agree.
Losing was losing.
Last time, he had already used every trick he had and still been defeated rather easily.
Now he had made no real progress, while Marco had only grown stronger and stronger.
What was the point of fighting again? He might as well just surrender outright.
Bang!
A Crimson Poison Needle, glowing with scarlet light, struck right in front of Midnight's eyes, jolting him back to his senses.
The attack made the space before him ripple violently.
He only barely managed to slide it away, and the shock instantly drenched him in cold sweat.
This was brute force at its purest.
That seemingly simple strike had nearly broken through his automatic defense, nearly shattered the distorted space itself.
He had only lost focus for a moment, only let a single thought flash through his mind, and Marco had almost seized the opening.
"You really do have the right to be proud," Marco said with a sigh of admiration.
Midnight's performance reminded him of Accelerator—though the actual ability was definitely lacking by comparison.
Still, a near-automatic defense that could deflect and even reflect enemy attacks really could make someone feel invincible.
Midnight had clearly been deeply influenced by that feeling already.
Being able to sleep, zone out, or lose focus while others bombarded him endlessly without even scratching him... that kind of experience really could make a person arrogant.
"..."
Midnight clenched his teeth so hard they were nearly breaking.
Marco's lofty tone—his casual judgment, his praise from above—made it painfully clear that he had never regarded Midnight as a true equal in the first place.
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