Max stood unmoving as the stampede of thirty shadow warriors rushed at him, their weapons raised high, blades glinting with eerie brilliance, each one cloaked in their own twisted manifestations of concept-based energy.
Their footsteps thundered across the arena, closing in fast like an inevitable storm.
But Max… he didn't flinch. He simply closed his eyes.
Within him, his Three Dimensional Body expanded its awareness, painting the battlefield with flawless detail. Every angle, every movement, every shift in momentum became a point in his mind.
At the same time, the Crimson Reaper inheritance surged through his veins, but unlike the raging fire of the Flame Tyrant or the oppressive might of the Black Sun, this power made no sound. No blaze flickered. No heat rippled. It was still—ominously still.
From the outside, Max looked defenseless. Not a single ember of black flames hovered around his body. Not a spark danced at his fingertips. But inside him, the world churned.
