Clang—!
In the center of the battlefield, the water halberd in Childe's hands swept out fiercely, forcing the advancing Ais and Bete back simultaneously.
He stood his ground, not pressing the advantage. Instead, he lightly flicked his halberd, the smile on his face remaining as unhurried as ever.
"What's wrong, warriors?"
His voice echoed across the expansive, frozen lake, carrying an unconcealed taunt.
"Is this all you've got?"
Hearing this, Bete, Tiona, Tione, and even the usually stoic Ais, all paled with ugly expressions.
Bete gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead bulging one by one.
The tip of Tiona's massive double-blade, Urga, rested weakly against the ice. She panted heavily, her chest heaving violently, her face full of frustration.
Tione stared fixedly at Childe in the distance, her gaze cold enough to freeze him solid, but her slightly trembling fingertips betrayed her inner turmoil.
Even Ais uncharacteristically lowered her eyes, a complex emotion called "unwillingness" flashing through her golden irises that usually reflected only light.
Facts spoke louder than words.
The four of them—the very best adventurers in Orario, the pride of the Loki Familia—had ganged up on a single person, yet they hadn't managed to leave a single scratch on him.
Instead, they were the ones looking rather pathetic at the moment.
Though they hadn't suffered any fatal injuries, everyone was wounded to varying degrees.
Clothes torn by water blades, armor cracked by shockwaves, and tiny cuts bleeding across their skin from high-speed water friction—all silently testified to the overwhelming disparity in this battle.
"Hey, you lot watching the show over there."
Childe ignored the four of them. He cracked his neck and turned his gaze toward the Loki Familia's commanders in the distance, who had held their ground this entire time.
"Are you not going to make a move?"
His eyes locked precisely onto Finn, Riveria, and Gareth Landrock.
Those seemingly calm blue eyes appeared capable of piercing through all illusions and seeing straight to the core.
Among all the people present, only those three were the strongest.
He could tell with a single glance.
"If you don't act now... they're going to die, you know."
Seeing that they still had no intention of intervening immediately, the smile on Childe's face finally faded completely, replaced by a spine-chilling madness.
The water halberd in his hands slowly dissipated, replaced by the two basic water daggers he had used at the very beginning.
But this time, the aura radiating from him was entirely different.
It was no longer a casual "playtime," nor an amused "probing."
It was a cold, emotionless bloodlust that existed purely for the sake of eradication.
Almost the instant that killing intent erupted, Ais and the other three felt a freezing chill shoot from the soles of their feet straight to their skulls. Their hair stood on end.
Their minds were instantly pulled taut by the sudden wave of malice.
They knew their opponent was getting serious.
"Well then, try not to die."
Childe murmured softly, raising his water blades and giving Ais a light wave.
A breathtakingly fast, aqua-blue sword aura shot out from his slash.
The slash was so swift it was like an aurora flashing out of thin air.
Wherever it passed, the air was silently torn apart, leaving a visible white contrail that lingered long after.
The hard ice surface was sliced open as easily as tofu. A bottomless fissure spread from Childe's feet all the way to the distant ice walls.
Everything in its path—ice blocks, rubble, even the frozen air itself—was flawlessly cleaved in two the moment it touched that strike, the cuts as smooth as a mirror.
Witnessing this, the pupils of Finn, Riveria, and Gareth in the distance shrank to pinpricks.
As the three executives of the Loki Familia who had once faced the absolute, "violent" terrifying power of the Zeus and Hera Familias, how could they not recognize what this was?!
That wasn't magic. It wasn't a skill.
It was a realm that only the most supreme swordsmen, the absolute pinnacle of their craft, could ever hope to reach.
—Lumina Slash!
Transforming the slash itself into a flying blade aura capable of rivaling a magic bombardment.
This was the pure, ultimate refinement of the concept of "slashing."
Every swordsman capable of using this move was a hero recorded in the annals of history.
Aside from the Zeus and Hera Familias who had subjugated the Sea King "Leviathan" and the Land King "Behemoth," only two people in the lower world could currently use this technique: the only two Lv.7 adventurers, the Knight of Knights and the Warlord.
And now... they were looking at the third.
"How can this be... is that... a slash?"
In the back, Lefiya was so shocked she could barely hold her staff. Her blue eyes were filled with paradigm-shattering horror.
Raul Nord, Anakitty Autumn, Alicia Forestlight, and the others wore identical expressions of numb disbelief.
It was a scene they felt they had witnessed long ago, during the brutal Dark Period.
Projecting the slash itself outward—an absolute power purer and more awe-inspiring than any magic artillery.
But Ais and the other three directly facing this "Lumina Slash" had no time to be shocked.
Because the blade aura of death had already reached them.
Moreover, Childe hadn't aimed solely at Ais.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he had simultaneously launched four cascading water slashes in four different directions, each with completely different power, speed, and angles.
Not a single one was spared; he took care of them all.
Faced with these terrifying strikes—which acted like high-pressure water jets easily capable of cleanly severing steel—Ais and her companions pushed their survival instincts to the absolute limit.
Ais held Desperate horizontally in front of her, unleashing Ariel without reservation, attempting to use the wind pressure to deflect the slash's trajectory.
Tiona roared, using Urga's massive blade as a shield and smashing it fiercely into the incoming aura.
Tione crossed her twin knives, her body spinning rapidly, trying to use centrifugal force to bounce it away.
Even Bete, who had been fighting unarmed this entire time, instantly drew the twin short swords he rarely used from his waist and crossed them in a block before his chest.
However, it was all futile.
The sword light was too fast, the force too overwhelming.
The seemingly thin, aqua-blue slashes contained a cutting power far beyond their wildest imaginations.
It was the perfect union of technique and strength.
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