Is this really a Game?!

As the swordsman activated his mark, a surge of power erupted from his body, causing the air to crackle with energy. His aura, already imposing, became even more terrifying. The once calm and controlled presence now radiated an overwhelming pressure that threatened to suffocate everyone on the battlefield.

The platform trembled under the sheer force of his energy, cracks forming along its surface as his power clashed with Reign's.

The swordsman's mark wasn't just a symbol of raw strength—it was a reflection of his mastery and years of experience. He had been given a mark a long time ago, and at first, it was nearly useless for him.

That was because the mark he had been given by a God was not the same one most people gained.

First of all, it was given by a Mid-God, which although was not in the same realm as those who had given their marks to Reign, Shadow, Wolf … the mark was not inferior at all.

It was the best one the God had, which was why man had to work hard in order to utilize it well. It was not a pure boost in energy and overall stats as most stats are, in fact, it barely boosted the man's stats at all at first.

That was because the God was also a swordsman, one that had reached such a high level of mastery in swordsmanship that he only gave his marks to those who could potentially do the same. All of his marks were connected to the person's swordsmanship, the higher of a realm they reached in it, the more of the mark's power they could use, and the more they could control it.

The man spent decades to reach his current realm, he spent countless years being below average in his own realm, before finally becoming average, and then suddenly gaining insight after insight and becoming stronger than anyone else in his own realm.

His mark was special when it came to its activation. It didn't change his body at all, it increased his stats, but not explosively, but what it did do was sharpen his aura and allow him to utilize his sword aura much more freely.

His mark resonated with an ancient, almost primordial force, giving him an edge that even Reign's formidable dual energy couldn't easily counter. The swordsman's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and respect as he observed Reign's transformation.

"You're impressive, I'll give you that," the swordsman said, his voice calm despite the chaotic energy swirling around them. "But marks and transformations alone won't bridge the gap between us. The difference in skill and experience is too vast."

Reign's eyes burned with intensity as the swordsman's words washed over him. The gap in experience and skill was undeniable, but Reign wasn't someone who backed down easily. The man before him had honed his abilities over decades, reaching the pinnacle of swordsmanship and mastery over his power.

Reign, on the other hand, had gained strength quickly, adapting and pushing his limits through each battle he fought. This fight wasn't just about raw power—it was about testing everything he had learned, about pushing past his limits.

"If you think I'm done just because of a gap in experience," Reign growled, his aura flaring even brighter, "then you don't know anything about us."

The air around Reign rippled as his light and darkness energies intertwined more closely than before, creating an unstable, crackling force. His transformation reached its peak, his dual energy flowing seamlessly through his body, which now stood at 2.1 meters high.

His wings unfurled, one pitch black, one milky white, and the power of a Nephilim was complete as his eyes turned purple, his soul manipulation ready to be used together with his light, darkness, and lightning manipulation.

The swordsman's expression remained cool, but there was a faint smile playing at his lips. "Good. Show me what you've got, then."

Reign first attacked using a soul attack, only for the souls he sent forward to be destroyed in an instant by a silver beam that appeared once the man swung his sword.

"Idiot, sword aura can destroy anything it touches, soul-based attacks are useless against him in his current state." Aethion barked as he stared at the battle from inside Reign's consciousness, the system's rules still in place, not allowing him to talk to Reign at all, merely allowing him to observe what was happening together with Jared, who was also staring at the battle that was unfolding.

"Master has found somebody this powerful, how exciting, as well as scary."

"Yes, those who can fight against the kid in the same realm after he unleashes his full power are few in numbers, I don't know whether to call this a lucky or unlucky situation."

The clash between Reign and the swordsman was a battle of power, skill, and experience at levels that most onlookers could scarcely comprehend. As the two warriors squared off, it was clear that this was not just a test of strength but of who could best channel their abilities, refine their techniques, and adapt to the chaos of battle.

Reign, now in his Nephilim form, radiated an overwhelming aura of light, darkness, and lightning that seemed to distort reality itself. His wings, one black and one white, spread wide, crackling with energy as they created a storm of ethereal power around him.

The transformation had brought him to the peak of his current abilities, and every ounce of his focus was directed at the man before him—a master swordsman who had perfected his craft over decades, perhaps even centuries.

The swordsman, with his mark activated and his swordsmanship elevated to an unimaginable level, stood like an unmovable force. His aura was sharp and refined, like a blade honed to the point of perfection. The way he held his sword, the subtle shifts in his stance, and the unyielding confidence in his eyes showed that he was more than just a powerful fighter—he was a living embodiment of mastery.

Reign's first attack, a soul-based strike, had been easily countered. The swordsman's sword aura had torn through the souls Reign had sent forward, dissipating them like mist in the wind.

Reign launched himself at the swordsman with incredible speed, his wings propelling him forward like a bolt of lightning. He moved with the intent to overwhelm, his swords a blur of light and darkness as they slashed through the air. Each strike carried a fusion of elements, the darkness corrosive and the light searing, with arcs of lightning weaving through the blades.

The swordsman responded with flawless precision. His sword moved in a seamless flow, parrying each of Reign's strikes with minimal effort. The clang of metal against metal echoed across the battlefield as the two exchanged blows at a speed that left afterimages in their wake. Despite Reign's enhanced power and speed, he found it difficult to break through the man's defenses.

The swordsman's footwork was impeccable, allowing him to maintain perfect balance and control even as he deflected Reign's relentless assault. His sword aura flared with each swing, slicing through the air and leaving trails of silver light in its wake.

Reign's strikes, which would have decimated most opponents, were absorbed, redirected, or nullified with such skill that it felt like he was fighting a mirror image of himself—an opponent who anticipated his every move and countered with precision.

"Is this all your transformation offers?" the swordsman taunted as he deflected another flurry of attacks. "Speed, power, and overwhelming force? Admirable, but predictable."

Reign didn't respond with words. Instead, he shifted his tactics mid-strike. He feinted a heavy downward slash, only to pivot at the last moment and swing horizontally, aiming to catch the swordsman off-guard. But the man was already moving, sidestepping the attack with fluid grace and countering with a thrust aimed at Reign's heart.

Reign twisted his body just in time, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow, but the tip of the sword grazed his side, leaving a searing cut.

The pain was sharp, but Reign pushed it aside. He focused on the flow of the battle, realizing that brute force wasn't going to win this fight. The swordsman's experience was too vast, his skill too refined. Reign needed to disrupt the rhythm, to force the man into a situation where his mastery couldn't fully compensate.

Drawing upon his lightning abilities, Reign created a sudden burst of electricity that surged outward like a shockwave. The swordsman reacted instinctively, raising his sword and channeling his aura into a barrier to block the incoming lightning. But Reign wasn't aiming to hit him directly. The burst of lightning was a feint, designed to blind and disorient for just a split second.

In that instant, Reign closed the distance with a speed that defied logic, striking from an unexpected angle. His swords came down in a cross-slash, infused with both light and darkness, aiming to bisect the swordsman in one clean cut. It was a gamble, a strike that combined everything he had—speed, power, and precision—into one decisive blow.

The swordsman's eyes constricted, but there was no fear in them, only determination. With a roar, he unleashed his sword aura in a focused burst, clashing head-on with Reign's attack. The collision of their powers sent shockwaves rippling through the platform, creating cracks in the ground and blasting debris into the air.

Light and darkness intertwined with the silver sheen of sword aura, creating a vortex of energy that threatened to tear everything apart.