Next came the black spear of war. Its roar split the infernal domain, its edge aiming straight for Mark's heart. Mark simply extended two fingers and caught the spear mid-flight. The battlefield illusion behind William collapsed instantly as the spear dissolved into a puff of smoke. William coughed blood, his body trembling as if centuries of wars had been ripped from him in an instant.
The thousand swords descended like a storm, sharp enough to sever laws themselves. They filled the skies with silver brilliance, stabbing at every angle. Mark didn't even move. His infernal energy expanded outward, a crimson pulse that rippled through the air.
The moment the red wave touched the swords, they shattered one after another, breaking like fragile glass against his will. The Palace Master gasped, clutching his chest as blood trickled from his mouth. His sword trembled in his hand, as if bowing to a higher existence.
