"Stairs. The godson really carved a road straight to the heavens."
"So this is what it looks like in front of a true apex. Climbing the Sacred Mountain turns effortless."
As the staircase took shape, jaws hung open. Most Fireborn could spend a lifetime and never reach these heights, yet in the hands of a real monster, the mountain's grandeur meant nothing. Even the Sacred Mountain could not stop him from opening a path straight to the peak for those who would follow.
Orson's act wasn't mere force. It was a miracle unfolding in broad daylight.
"Rougher than I like, but it'll do."
He wasn't satisfied. Each step rose three to four meters high, running in a jagged line toward the tip of the black blade ridge. Back on Earth, a contractor this sloppy would be in cuffs before sundown.
He glanced at the chaos blade in his hand. Even if this was nothing but brute-force swings, he could feel it in his bones—every form except mage still had a lot of ceiling left.
