MIGHT AS WELL BE OP-Chapter 500: Blue. Black. Red.

Chapter 500: Blue. Black. Red.

[Spectre Katana Technique: Lightning Rendering]

[Clement Dagger Technique: Dark Devour]

[Endless Technique: Katana Series: Hell Manifestation]

In perfect unison, the three warriors moved, one breath, one motion.

Their weapons slashed forward with world-ending force, tearing through space itself.

Lightning carved through the air like divine judgment, shadows surged with insatiable hunger, and flames roared like the wrath of a thousand infernos.

Blue. Black. Red.

The Mirror Dimension was swallowed by color as their elements collided, blending, clashing, collapsing into each other in a cataclysmic fusion.

For a split second, silence reigned as if the Mirror Dimension itself paused, struggling to comprehend the scale of the attack.

Then came the implosion.

It surged outward in a kaleidoscope of blinding colors, a roar of annihilation that reduced everything in sight to pure, consuming nothingness.

The already-collapsing island didn’t fall, it was erased. Wiped clean from existence by the convergence of their devastating attacks.

Space shattered like fragile glass, fragments of reality drifting before stitching themselves back together in distorted pulses.

The air warped with unbearable heat.

Lightning danced like serpents, lashing wildly as fire blazed, eager to incinerate everything it touched.

Darkness, quiet and sinister, crept beneath it all, devouring without sound, without mercy.

Three forces.

One clash.

And the Mirror trembled in their wake.

From the smoldering fumes of destruction, Anthony, Spectre, and Clement emerged.

Anthony stood unscathed, untouched by the chaos, while searing sword marks scorched the bodies of his opponents, evidence of his precise and ruthless strikes.

Meanwhile, Spectre and Clement’s wounds began to vanish as their torn skin wove itself back together, the effects of their passive regeneration silently mending what was broken.

In blurred frames of motion, they hurtled toward each other like madmen unleashed.

The air thrummed with palpable tension as their blades clashed, each strike precise, each motion honed to lethal perfection.

Their weapons danced in a symphony of light and shadow, weaving a tapestry of battle where every feint, parry, and blow stitched itself into the ever-shifting fabric of war.

Anthony didn’t merely fight, he orchestrated, his katana the conductor’s baton setting the tempo of battle.

Each strike flowed like the verse of an ancient poem, elegant, deliberate, and lethally beautiful.

A calm smile lingered on his face as he deflected Clement’s slash with effortless grace, his body twisting mid-motion before his foot cracked sharply against Spectre’s jawline, his body jerking sideways with force.

In the next instant, a cascade of detonations erupted, Clement unleashing Soul Explosion once more. The heavens themselves seemed to respond, as the sky tore apart.

“I must admit, you’ve improved, but it’s still far from enough to lay a finger on me”

Anthony said, his tone calm and measured, just loud enough to carry to their ears.

His feet touched the ground with controlled grace, the earth barely registering his landing.

“Allow me to offer you a taste of experience”

The moment the final word left his lips, his figure vanished, like a phantom slipping between folds of reality.

Before Spectre could even process the motion, Anthony’s katana cleaved through his chest with effortless precision, slicing through flesh and bone as if through silk.

But Anthony wasn’t finished.

With a fluid shift in motion, his katana arced toward Spectre’s shoulder, aiming to sever his arm in one clean stroke.

Yet the blade met nothing but empty air, Spectre had vanished in an instant, teleporting just beyond reach.

Clement was already in motion.

Swift as a shadow, he lunged toward Anthony, soaring through the air. With a downward slash of his dagger, a dark blade arc howled through the sky, racing toward its target.

Anthony’s hand blurred. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

In the blink of an eye, his katana intercepted the attack, reducing the dark arc to scattered fragments, shreds of attack dissipating like torn fabric in the wind.

Before Clement could even think to follow up, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Anthony, his mind struggling to grasp how the distance between them had vanished, as though reality itself had skipped a step.

Then came stillness.

His body froze as space held him in place.

And in the next instant, impact.

Anthony’s fist detonated against Clement’s chest with brutal force. Agonizing pain erupted through him as his ribcage caved inward, flesh and bone contorting under the raw, unrelenting force.

But Clement didn’t scream.

Before inertia could hurl him backward, his hand stretched forward, darkness coiling around his fingers like a living flame. His lips moved, voice low and brisk.

Dark Corruption

Anthony watched the approaching hand in slow motion, his eyes calm, calculating.

In a single fluid motion, his katana flashed.

Steel met flesh, and Clement’s fingers were severed cleanly, the corrupted darkness dissipating into the air like smoke denied form.

Clement’s body was finally hurled backward, crashing through the dense foliage of trees, his frame carving a deep trench in the earth before coming to a brutal halt.

Blood sprayed from his lips as he struggled to rise, limbs trembling beneath the weight of pain.

The atmosphere shifted, charged with a maddening intensity, as if the very air had awakened to the fury of battle.

Anthony’s head tilted upward, eyes narrowing as the clouds above churned, lightning gathering with ominous purpose.

Then his gaze turned toward Spectre, whose katana now pointed skyward.

Falling Apocalypse

At the sound of Spectre’s voice, the heavens answered.

Lightning cascaded from above, not as a strike, but as calamity incarnate. It tore through the sky like divine judgment, the sheer force dyeing the Mirror Dimension in violent hues of light and devastation.

It raced toward Anthony with blinding speed, an onslaught capable of reducing the world to ash.

Yet he didn’t flinch.

He made no effort to defend, no motion to retreat. He simply stared upward as the apocalypse bore down on him.

And then, just as the cataclysm was poised to consume him, the air around him trembled.

Space itself quivered beneath his will.

A portal tore open above him, silent and precise, and the storm of lightning vanished into its depths.

Clement, who had just finished regenerating, felt a subtle shift ripple through the space above him, a distortion, faint but undeniable.

His instincts flared.

His head snapped upward just in time to see a portal tear open in the sky above him, followed by a torrent of lightning erupting downward, the very same apocalyptic strike meant for Anthony.

There was no time to dodge.

But before the searing light could swallow him whole, darkness surged.

It wrapped around him like a living shroud, his own element reacting with desperate urgency, cocooning him in its embrace and shielding him from the brunt of the onslaught.

The Mirror roared in blinding fury as light and darkness collided in a storm of chaos.

“Let me show you what truly happens when lightning descends from the heavens”

Anthony’s voice rang with quiet finality as his katana rose, its tip pointing toward the sky.

In that instant, the clouds obeyed.

The heavens split open with a thunderous crack, and a colossal bolt of purple lightning, vast, violent, and unnatural, materialized out of nothingness, then plummeted straight toward Spectre like divine wrath.

Reacting instantly, Spectre’s body ignited with crackling energy, his own lightning surging through every fiber of his being. With a roar, he raised his katana to meet the descending force.

And then.

BOOM

A deafening explosion rocked the dimension. Space itself drowned in a sea of violet fury.

White and purple lightning surged violently across the Mirror Dimension, arcs tearing through the skies.

Floating islands above crumbled, collapsing in on themselves. Towering structures disintegrated, toppling like sandcastles beneath the weight of pure destruction.

Everything burned.

Everything cracked.

Everything was swallowed by the heat of a storm that knew no mercy.

The stench of burning flesh reached Anthony’s nose as the tempest of lightning gradually receded, revealing Clement and Spectre through the dissipating haze.

Their bodies were charred, smoke curling from seared skin, each breath they drew laced with pain.

Yet, their regeneration had already begun, flesh knitting together, every torn seam mending itself with unnatural speed.

Anthony stood in silence, observing.

He made no move to interfere, allowing them the time to recover.

This was a test of their combat experience, and he found himself genuinely impressed by how much progress they had made since his last discussion with them.

Still, they could never hope to rival him, not with the sheer broken Battle Experience skill Anthony had in his arsenal.

Suddenly, Anthony’s shadow trembled, then twisted unnaturally, as a man emerged from it, a spear gripped tightly in his hand. Without hesitation, he lunged, aiming a vicious thrust toward Anthony’s back.

Anthony reacted in an instant. Spinning on his heel, his eyes locked onto the assailant just as his katana flashed up to intercept.

‘Zenith ranker’

Anthony noted inwardly, as steel clashed against steel in a shower of sparks.

He understood immediately, this was one of Clement’s abilities: the ability to resurrect those he had slain, turning them into loyal puppets.

These revenants retained their former rank, personality, and memories, but they now served Clement’s will.

But even Clement knew such a skill was as ineffective against Anthony as his failed Soul Explosion.

But clearly, Clement had something else in mind.

As Anthony’s katana carved a clean arc through the puppet’s neck, the figure offered no resistance. The head separated smoothly from the body.

But in that final instant, just before death claimed it once more, the puppet released something from its hand, casting it directly into Anthony’s face.

SAND

It was sand.

Anthony realized it the moment it was flung, but far too late. The grains scattered directly into his face, a crude yet effective tactic.

He had countless ways to stop it.

He could have frozen time.

He could have frozen space.

He could have activated infinity.

He could have phased through the attack.

He could have used Quantum Manipulation.

He could have incinerated it with his blue flames before a single grain touched him.

But he didn’t.

In that infinitesimal moment, he chose not to.

The sand struck. It scoured into his eyes, raw and blinding. His eyelids snapped shut instinctively, sealing the coarse irritation inside.

Clement seeing his plan had worked, didn’t miss a beat, his lips parted as he spoke.

Dark Hemisphere

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