The surge of power in Ethan's body had become something otherworldly. Every beat of his heart thrummed with force. His strength had soared to the pinnacle of Peak-Saint rank—his muscles dense and refined, his bones like forged crystal steel. His vitality surged through his limbs like molten fire, each breath infused with power that vibrated the air.
His gaze shifted sharply toward the lone figure now standing amidst the rubble—the Peak-Saint human. The remaining battlefield lay still, strewn with fallen bodies. Rambo and the Elven Princess staggered back, battered and bloodied. Their breathing was heavy, their figures trembling from the unrelenting pressure they had endured. Their roles had been fulfilled.
The Peak-Saint returned his stare, his expression unreadable—cold, emotionless, calculating.
Ethan cracked his neck, flexed his fists, and took a slow step forward. The ground fractured beneath his foot.
