The dust slowly settled.
At the center of the battlefield that had completely collapsed from the direct clash between the two, Everest still maintained the posture of throwing his punch.
His right fist, containing nearly the entirety of his strength, remained firmly pressed against the silver blade. Black energy, so deep it seemed capable of swallowing light itself, continuously surged outward from his fist, distorting the surrounding air beneath its overwhelming pressure. Beneath his feet, countless cracks continued spreading in every direction like an enormous spiderweb.
However, Scarlet, who stood before him, had not retreated even half a step.
She held the seemingly slender silver longsword in one hand. The black combat suit covering her body remained as immaculate as ever, not stained by even a single speck of dust.
