The Godslayer blade pulsed with light, each wave stronger than the last, flashing three times in rapid succession. It transformed into a blazing greatsword, glowing white-hot.

Then, Andrew drove it straight into the open jaws of the charging panther.

Somewhere in the void, a shrill, miserable howl seemed to echo. The panther-shaped sword aura shattered and dissipated into thin smoke.

Ramon's eyes narrowed as he realized he had underestimated Andrew's ability to break force with force.

Nonetheless, he stood at the peak of the martial god realm. Among the Dark Clans, he could already be considered a Dark Lord. One step further, and he would have the strength of a Dark Prince.

He refused to believe he could not kill Andrew.

If Andrew fell, Abyss City would never hold with Dragonfang alone. After that, it would fall right into his hands, Ramon's hands.

The fight might become far more brutal, but as someone from the King of the Wastelands family, as long as his sky-high ambition cou