Then Max moved faster.
Dragonheart flashed again and again.
The Saint Origin Sword Art unfolded in his hand with terrifying elegance. Every movement was smooth, precise, and filled with an ancient sword rhythm, as if Max was not fighting a group of enemies but performing a sacred execution beneath the cursed trees of Witch God Valley.
Sword light spread through the battlefield in layers, crossing, turning, rising, and descending, and every line it formed became a boundary between life and death.
The demons tried to resist with brute force.
They were cut apart.
The second faction elves tried to defend with bloodline techniques.
They were cut apart.
Some tried to retreat.
They were cut apart before they could take three steps.
Some tried to beg.
Their voices were severed before they could become words.
The Emotion Severing Path made Max's sword merciless to a frightening degree. There was no hesitation in his strikes, no unnecessary cruelty, no rage, and no pleasure.
