A man could be seen tearing through a flock of Angels as though he were a wolf trapped within a pen of chickens. His golden hair shimmered like sunlight, and his eyes glowed with an ethereal gold that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. Unlike others who moved with the aid of various forms of energies, mana, aura, or cosmic power, he relied on none of that. His body alone was his weapon, honed to perfection, and that was all he required.
It was Sky Kingsley.
Kingsley's feet made contact with the surface of a moon, landing with the deftness and precision of a predator striking its prey. The moment his feet touched down, two sets of ten-paired winged Angels converged upon him. Yet, Kingsley did not pause nor waste a fraction of his strength; he did not expend more than a single attack for each of them. Simultaneously, he raised both fists and thrust them outward in opposite directions, intercepting two incoming swords with absolute control.
