Destruction aura flared around his limbs—punches now cratered the ground, his feet leaving molten dents in the obsidian stage. He used Gold Magic to reinforce his body, Aether Blood to blur his own time-frame and match Zor'Khul's speed.
The arena erupted in shockwaves as the two clashed midair, weaponless now. Fist to claw. Nail to carapace. Shell Pulse—Tripart Echo mirrored Zor'Khul's patterns once. Twice.
But Zor'Khul adapted—his axes moved in sequences that hadn't even occurred yet.
Leon was slammed to the ground, coughing blood. His body convulsed. His vision spun.
Then the whisper echoed inside his mind:
"Compress."
His hands trembled as he stood, swaying.
He whispered one word.
"Singularity."
His entire body collapsed inward—not physically, but temporally. Every movement, every Shell Echo he'd stored in his time as a warrior, every deflected blow, every painful lesson—compressed into one moment.
