With that in mind, Asher closed his eyes, feeling the vast energy coursing through him. His Sanguine Supreme ability had evolved, his body reinforced to a whole new level. His senses stretched farther than before, his muscles held power beyond anything he had ever wielded.
This was not just an increase in rank—this was a transformation. Each advancement brought a massive improvement, elevating him to a whole new level.
After a moment, Asher finally stabilized his advancement. He stretched his body and moved around, adjusting to the newfound control over his enhanced form.
"I am a god now," Asher declared, his voice calm yet filled with conviction.
The old man, who had been meditating, nodded as he woke up. He stood up, cracking his knuckles.
"Let's fight, then," he said with a grin. Experience new tales on My Virtual Library Empire
Asher nodded, stepping forward.
The old man may have looked skinny and frail, but he was a War God—or at least a projection of one from when the War God was at Ex rank. That was two whole ranks above Asher's current level, meaning that even unarmed, the old man could prove to be a formidable challenge.
However, thanks to the abilities Asher possessed, they now stood on equal ground.
Blood clashed with the air around him as he activated the Reaper form of his Sanguine Supreme ability. His body shifted, enveloped in sleek crimson armor, his claws extending like deadly blades. His long white hair billowed behind him, and his golden-red eyes gleamed with raw power.
The battle was about to begin.
The air between them grew heavy, charged with the weight of the battle about to unfold. The old man stood firm, his presence radiating raw experience and unshakable might. Asher, clad in his Sanguine Reaper form, grinned.
Without warning, the old man moved.
A single step—yet the sheer force behind it shattered the ground beneath his feet. He vanished from sight, reappearing right in front of Asher with a fist aimed at his face.
Asher barely had time to react. He twisted his body, avoiding the direct hit, but the force of the punch still sent a shockwave rippling through the air. He countered instantly, slashing forward with his blood-forged claws.
The old man dodged effortlessly, weaving through the attack like a phantom.
"Not bad," the War God's projection mused. "But if that's all you've got, this will be over in an instant."
Asher smirked. "I was about to say the same thing."
He summoned his [Sanguine Chains], crimson tendrils of blood whipping forward, aiming to bind his opponent. The old man's eyes gleamed with interest as he dodged, but Asher anticipated his movement. He controlled the chains mid-air, redirecting them at impossible angles.
The chains wrapped around the old man's arm—only for him to pull Asher forward instead, using his own technique against him.
Asher barely had time to brace himself before the War God's knee slammed into his stomach. He gritted his teeth, feeling the impact rattle his bones, but he refused to falter.
He retaliated with a burst of [Blood Requiem], releasing a destructive shockwave of condensed blood energy. The old man skidded back slightly, nodding in approval.
"Good. Very good." His voice carried a hint of excitement now. "Let's take it up a notch."
Suddenly, his presence changed.
The once-casual aura of a strong fighter transformed into something overwhelming. The weight of true battle experience pressed down on Asher like an unrelenting storm. The air itself trembled as a crimson glow ignited around the old man's fists.
This… this is the strength of an Ex-rank War God?
Asher's blood boiled with excitement.
He didn't care how strong his opponent was. This chapter is updated by Novel~Fire. (n)et
With a grin, he launched himself forward.
The battle had only just begun.
The moment Asher launched himself forward, the very air seemed to crackle with tension. His blood-fueled claws extended as he dashed toward the War God's projection, his Sanguine Reaper form pulsating with raw power. The old man merely raised a single hand, his fingers clenched into a loose fist. To any normal observer, it seemed like a casual stance, but Asher knew better.
The moment he closed the distance, Asher unleashed a flurry of strikes, his claws slashing in unpredictable patterns, each attack infused with his [Sanguine Edge]—a technique that allowed his blood-forged weapons to cut through even the most resilient of defenses. However, the War God was unfazed. With movements as fluid as water, he weaved through the attacks, dodging with precision so sharp it seemed he knew Asher's moves before they even happened.
Asher grit his teeth, his mind processing the battle at lightning speed. He needed to change tactics. With a flick of his wrist, he manipulated his blood midair, summoning [Sanguine Chains] once again. This time, the chains materialized in an instant, surrounding the War God from all sides. They coiled like vipers, tightening in a deadly snare. But before they could ensnare their prey, the old man stomped his foot on the ground.
The sheer force sent cracks racing across the arena floor. The chains shattered like fragile glass, dispersing into crimson mist. Asher barely had time to react before the War God appeared in front of him, a fist aimed straight for his chest. With no other option, Asher crossed his arms in a desperate block.
The impact sent him skidding backward, his feet carving trenches into the ground. The force behind the punch nearly broke his arms, the raw energy laced in the attack sending tremors through his entire body. He barely managed to regain his footing before the War God pressed forward, his hands glowing with an eerie golden hue.
"[Divine War Arts: Thousand Strikes of Heaven]."
The moment those words left the old man's lips, his fists became a blur. Each strike carried the weight of a mountain, the speed of a lightning bolt, and the precision of a master. Asher barely had time to raise his defenses before the onslaught began.
Left hook. Right jab. Palm strike. Elbow thrust. Knee. A spinning back fist.