Max stood before the mountain in complete stillness, his gaze unwavering as he slowly lifted his sword. He could feel it clearly now, the subtle rejection between his sword art and his concept. The two forces did not belong together, and they resisted each other at every moment. Even so, Max did not retreat.
A quiet certainty rose within him. The Saint Origin Sword Art alone was not enough. It required something deeper, something that could push it beyond its limits. Only by forcing his concept into it could he awaken its true power.
He drew in a steady and stepped forward.
The moment his sword fell, he poured everything into that single strike. The Saint Origin Sword Art surged through the blade while his concept followed closely behind, the two clashing violently within his control. The energy trembled, unstable and unwilling to fuse, yet Max forced them together through sheer determination.
The strike reached the mountain.
And nothing happened.
