Chapter 62
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Chapter 62: The Ultimate Intent of Swords
Extreme Swordsmanship.
One of Arad’s most mysterious and powerful techniques.
In his past life, Midi had risen through adversity as a talented Demon Swordman. Though he’d studied various swordsmanship styles and become half-versed in all, he’d never touched the edge of Extreme Swordsmanship. Even the four supreme "Sword Saints" couldn’t cross its threshold.
Adventurers called it the swordsmanship only fate’s chosen could master.
Now Midi finally understood its greatest secret—one must first possess the Ultimate Intent to wield Extreme Swordsmanship. Without this core essence, no mastery of magic or aura could ever grasp it.
And now, Midi truly held the Ultimate Intent.
His past life had given him emptiness, despair, death’s taste, the Grim Reaper’s hellscape, and the agony of life leaving his flesh.
This rebirth granted him a demon god’s foundation, super transmutation’s catalyst, and unshakable belief.
He’d faced limits, challenged them, shattered them.
All converged, forging Midi into a single blade’s edge.
The Ultimate Intent.
This clear-stream power now flowed through his exhausted body—circulating like White Clouds and starlit brooks, steady as Great Mountains, lively as spring winds. It permeated flesh and soul, accelerating as his mind awakened, moving at his command.
Faint air currents hissed as debris sprayed from his wounds.
Crystalline light condensed in his eyes, narrowing to dragon-pupil slits within dark irises.
Wiseman gaped.
Even his vast knowledge held no answers about "Extreme Swordsmanship". Naturally—in Midi’s past life, this technique only emerged in Arad Calendar 990. That year, royal-blooded Sodros Skart Heinrich discovered swordsmanship’s truth through despair in Delos Empire’s prisons, becoming unshackleable.
Thus Sodros, master of Extreme Swordsmanship, became Arad’s supreme swordsman.
Yet now, reborn Midi had touched this pinnacle five years earlier than the Lightsaber bloodline’s heir!
History shifted.
The world transformed.
Fate itself bent.
Limit-breaching Midi, armed with fierce resolve to defy destiny, had changed everything!
The staggering level 17 gap remained. Extreme Swordsmanship offered slim odds. But Midi knew his edge—Wiseman’s ignorance.
The Necromancer would compare this to familiar sword styles, perhaps considering it Belmar Duchy’s hidden technique. He’d never anticipate its true horror.
This underestimation would be Wiseman’s fatal wound—Midi’s sole chance to bridge the level chasm.
As predicted, Wiseman showed shock but no fear.
"Impressive! Magnificent!" The Necromancer clapped madly before freezing. "But thinking some flashy move beats me? Delusional! Let me teach you reality’s cruelty versus knight-story fantasies!"
Wiseman snapped his fingers.
Space quivered at the crisp sound.
The Hand of Nightmare’s gray robe billowed as death’s aura surged. Trees withered instantly—every living thing within hundreds of meters except Midi perished, souls ripped away.
Necromancer skill, Soul Absorption Wave.
Wiseman struck instantly, unleashing overwhelming pressure.
Yet beneath the Necromancer’s signature attack, Midi’s expression remained calm.
Instead, Wiseman’s face turned corpse-pale. His body swayed weakly before he spat bright red blood.
"How can your Soul be this strong?" The Hand of Nightmare’s voice shook with disbelief.
The soul-targeting attack bypassed physical defenses. Even Alice with her countless tricks had fallen wounded within minutes. But Midi was different – twenty years of reincarnation had forged an unbreakable Soul and razor-sharp will. Wiseman’s soul ambush became his own undoing.
Midi seized the opportunity.
He sprang forward like a leopard chasing prey. Leaves and dirt swirled behind his afterimage as he closed the distance.
The azure Lightsaber dimmed as Midi swung. An invisible force tore through air, vaporizing dust into nothingness.
Ultimate Intent – unstoppable.
Blood dripping from his lips, Wiseman frantically gestured. His staff glowed with powerful pale green light. Hexagonal shields materialized around him like castle walls.
Ranged magic users dread close combat, but Wiseman trusted his defense. Not even "Extreme Swordsmanship" could breach it.
He was wrong.
The shield shattered like falling glass, layer after layer disintegrating into stardust. Only the final barrier held, cracked deeply. Cold sweat drenched Wiseman’s brow.
Too late to flee. Without three Demon Swordwomen’s support and lacking mobility, even summoning skeletal steeds would prove futile.
Then Wiseman noticed – Midi’s Lightsaber had vanished. Two Ultimate Intent strikes had destroyed the magic blade.
"Die!" Wiseman screeched, gathering black magic thick with screaming faces. Curse of the Undead – this flesh-destroying spell would leave no trace of Midi.
But Midi already stood before him. Only cracked shield remained between them.
Wiseman smirked. A swordless Demon Swordman posed no threat. He anticipated watching Midi’s corpse disintegrate.
Yet the black-haired boy’s Cold Flame eyes chilled his triumph.
Midi discarded the useless hilt. Fist clenched, he punched the shield. Ultimate Intent surged through his fingers, white air currents whipping around flesh-made battering ram.
CRACK!
The barrier exploded. Shrapnel grazed Midi’s cheek, drawing blood. His right fist became mangled meat and bone – unbearable strain for mortal flesh.
He swung left.
Silver Flame eyes trailed light streaks as Midi delivered his life’s fastest strike – lightning made fist.
THOOM!
Wiseman’s chest cratered. Blood gushed waterfall-like from his mouth. No recoil – every ounce of Ultimate Intent ravaged organs and bones internally.
The gray-robed figure stared at his caved chest in disbelief.
One strike. Life extinguished.
