Lucifer Windward watched the field with verdant eyes, and his God's Eyes took in all of it—every shift of weight, every flicker of mana, every half-made decision in the bodies of the two boys in front of him.
Arthur's movement has changed, he thought, and a smile tugged at his mouth. That kick to Jack's liver was flawless. Not just the impact—the shape of it. Full-body martial arts. Interesting.
The air shimmered as Arthur's blade turned a scorching blast from Jack aside. Around Lucifer, two vortices began to turn, one midnight black and one blinding white. Black mana and white. His Yin-Yang Body, waking all the way.
No more holding back.
He shifted into the opening stance of the Myth of the Northern Peak. Before he could complete it, the air beside him darkened.
"Too slow."
