The aura emanating from Ghislain had darkened, shifting from a deep crimson to an even denser shade of shadow.
"What kind of transcendent loses his sanity and forgets his own enlightenment? You're nothing but a farce."
This was where the Salvation Order had miscalculated. They believed that unleashing Melkirâs transcendent strength would make him unstoppable.
But a transcendent isnât defined merely by power. A true transcendent establishes their own mental domainâa world built on their will and enlightenment. Melkir, having lost his sanity and his domain, could no longer be called a transcendent.
"When you lose your techniques, enlightenment, and will, and wield nothing but bloated, chaotic mana, youâre weaker, not stronger."
For a normal knight, such brute power might have been an advantage, amplifying their physical capabilities several times over.
But not for a transcendent. A transcendent is someone who controls time and space through their principles. Without that, they cannot stand against another transcendent.
Melkir couldnât even form an aura blade. The so-called "Holy Warrior" transformation of the Salvation Order merely granted brute strength, nothing more.
The relentless assault caused Melkirâs face to cave in on one side. Even the black energy reinforcing his body couldnât withstand the overwhelming force and began to dissipate.
Crash!
Smash!
Crack!
Melkirâs arms fractured, and his legs bent in unnatural directions. He couldnât even muster a counterattack.
Ghislain didnât allow him to fall. His fists hammered into Melkir with incredible speed, ensuring he stayed upright just long enough to absorb the punishment.
Boom!
Smash!
Boom!
The black energy sustaining Melkirâs body unraveled and dissipated with each strike, unable to endure the sheer force of Ghislainâs blows.
Crunch.
Ghislain drew his fist back, a powerful aura gathering around it. In that brief moment, Melkir staggered, finally on the verge of collapse.
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