Everything he sensed was rapidly peeling away, and amidst the mechanical assault, Roger even forgot the purpose of his killing spree.
His arm mechanically lifted, swinging the Sword of Destiny in his hand.
This completely instinctual method of attack actually aligned with a certain special state, with superfluous movements growing fewer and attacks becoming purer.
The legacy of thirty-three styles was slowly being digested and understood.
Having ingested too many sinister things, the Nekomata underwent earth-shattering changes.
Its form expanded, its metal sheen skin tinged red from the light flowing beneath.
Roger's body leaped high, and immediately, he enveloped the entire space around him with a blood-red radiance of Spiritual Power.
Sword light crisscrossed, each ray of light containing explosive force.
Boom!
