Razmund stared blankly forward when he followed Zao's steps. Uncaring about claymore scrapping the ground behind him, the vivid calmness in his eyes was nonexistent. But his ears were sharp, his mind ready like his body, and even his hand itched to swipe his weapon at anything moving.

He forgot about his primary Hunt. Following Zao's steps and the sound of his robust body were enough to quench his stress. He was hearing massive heartbeats echoing into his ears. Those were highlights of the combo of potions he used, so he felt everything in much detail. Every step went to his ears like a stomp of a giant.

The effects of Heartsear Potion were exceptionally strong with the Stimulant, and if he wanted to deal with Zao quickly, this was the bare minimum.

Heartsear Potion had 10 minutes of effects even with the Stimulant. Everything about the mind and the enchanting effects of it turned wilder and stronger. But it wasn't some power that could shatter his limits, of course. No potions would grand world-shattering powers. It was their users who would.

For him, the potion combos were just a nudge to move his latent potential, increase power, and steady his Path. It always worked wonders. A tool was a tool. Those that used them mattered more than the tools themselves. Their use was still very popular in the Battleworld, let alone the Centralis Kingdom. Razmund had no shame in using them.

Zao's steps rang from the many hallways this place had. He seemed to have a great grasp of the environment, similar to Razmund, who followed him behind.

Someone with a Titan-like body was hard to miss, unlike an invisible enemy. Razmund soon arrived at a wide arena that was big even a team of battling Goldsteel Titans. Though Zao was considered young, his race wouldn't go past 20 meters on most occasions. 30 meters was the upper limit of their race, but those were what was possible and hardly viable to reach. Few of those were present in the Battleworld.

At least down here, in the world of mortals, limits and old history often meant many different things when gods and Skies were concerned.

The arena itself wasn't some cave. It was a huge rectangular room, with a rigid stone floor and no clutter around the walls. The room was clean and fogless to make the battles viable and straightforward. Sharp light was coming from little dots of light from the tall ceiling, shining on every tile. Let alone for Goldsteel Titans, anyone could battle here however they wanted.

And stopping or hiding in this place was impossible.

“Now, human,” Zao said. “Are you ready to taste the consequences of my patience?” Standing tall in the middle of this arena, his back was straight and imposing, facing Razmund who arrived shortly after he had spoken. This act was yet another invitation for a backstab. A simple bait that Razmund wouldn't bite.

“Don't make me laugh, Titan,” Razmund said with unnatural firmness in his tone. His body was itching all over, and his claymore was hardly calm in his clutch. “I don't seek any consequences. Not here. From anyone. Battles are the sole reason for this, Am I right? Do you want your own reason? Sure. I have mine. A simple business. Simple logic. Warriors seek their purpose, yet my path is different from your Pride.”

“Oh, so you are of the Chaos?”

“Chaos isn't necessary for everything and everyone. Dissaray, disorder, evil, and so on. I don't know all the depictions of Laws, but I never felt one that is speaking to me. They are all their own things, following the Order of Chaos and vice-versa. Neither of them can mold to my needs. That's pathetic. Working with something already premade, It's better for it to mold around oneself, than be in the shackles of some rules.”

“That doesn't sound right, but at the same time, it does sound exactly how humans perceive the Paths.”

“Is it wrong? No!” Razmund answered his own question. “It shouldn't be the other way around. I am a decider. Choices are mine. Not the world's. You are thinking about it differently. Don't you think so, oh, proud warrior of the Pride?” Razmund asked, speaking in a voice that carried quite a force in this wide and open place.

His words visibly confused Zao, who wasn't looking for some talks or answers. It was wrong. It was also right. Everyone had their perspectives, so Zao didn't refute this human who had his own agendas and beliefs.

Everyone had their own mind. He had his own, albeit the shackles he had were firm and deep. What he expected to happen didn't happen, so he turned around, glancing at Razmund with his Goldsteel Eyes.

Razmund's words were confident and honest, similar to the stance and madness that was within his body. It seemed that the human in front of him really believed in every word he said. It was obvious on his face. They were his truth, so he almost laughed at him.

One was never free from the shackles that was the life. There were no excuses, even if someone believed in some miracles. The world accommodated the living, and any taker of some Path had various problems and limits. Calling it a shackle was thus, fitting.

Although, it was more about the perception of truth, rather than that. Words that he found unfamiliar weren't what Zao took for something new. After all, Pride was all that Zao needed in his life. Nothing else mattered. No other Law was in his heart. That was how Goldsteel Titans were made, and that's how they will meet their End. In a Pride accommodating to their heart.

Suddenly, Zao flickered his hands, letting his sword face the enemy. He took a fighting stance for real this time around. Continuing some wordy efforts wasn't what he intended, yet he was the one who started it. It dragged long enough, so his swords will do the talking instead.

He lowered his one leg forward to face the enemy and leaned onwards with both swords beside each other as well. He was looking like a bull with two horns, ready to stab a fool. It was a fairly strange stance, but it seemed rather stable and very straightforward.

What kind of attack did this sort of stance pose for? Razmund didn't know what it could do, handle and maintain, and what power it held. But he will take it all, counter it the same, or eat it up. He wasn't a pure Sword Sage who wanted to know everything about every swordsmanship. It wasn't right when he had a lot on his table, even though the truth of his Path did work with many sword techniques.

Initiating the attacks was something he enjoyed by all rights of his Path. He was supposed to be the one to handle the Sword Sage Path. Anything with the sword was just part of it, as it was a literal pinnacle of Sword Pathway. So he wasn't fooling around before any sword of others.

The fighting was part of the inevitability, and figuring the sword was a neverending journey.

But what was that ambush before, one may ask? A failure? Blunder? In death and battle, hardly any of that mattered.

And in order to take over the past mistakes, Razmund shouldn't be the one with doubts. He wasn't lying to himself. He wasn't truthful either, but his claymore was ready to decide all of it anyway.

Zao was more important than not getting smacked out of his breath. It gave an answer for some worry, however. Getting too close to him wasn't ideal because he wasn't as clumsy as Giants. Titans were more versatile and battle-stricken than that. So it wasn't time to repeat the same mistakes twice.

With the body and mind ready, he did exactly that. Razmund pounced at Zao, but this time, it was clear as the sky that both wanted to clash together.

It was a straightforward start, with no hint of cowardice on both sides. Zao opened his eyes wide, surprised by the speed and Will of his opponent. He expected a more vile and cruder manner of attack since this human backstabbed him once. Seeing refined terms of swordplay, he was surprised.

But if anything made more sense, his enemies shouldn't be so weak if he was required. If a Challenger was already before him from Mindarch's readings, there were no doubts.

Fancy attacks. Those were what those punny humans always used. They were oftentimes laughable to his heart. A simple fist and swipe of the sword did the right justice in a fight. There was no need for theatrics or fancy moves.

Zao was simple in this nature, like any other Goldsteel Titan. But this exceeded the affection he held for his Pride. This human even tried to ambush his Pride, even when he had this fine of a sword? Laughable. Zao smiled, face gleaming in a wide grin. His teeth were silvery sheen, resembling human's as well. It was a perfect side of teeth; not sharp but they had some effects. They were unable to decay, and their silvery color was nothing but an effective part of his physique.

Zao saw the incoming attack and took it head-on.

Razmund dragged the claymore behind his Flying Steps. With a single hand, he swung it halfway through his journey, followed by the premise of Flying Steps. Each step in this technique gifted one with a great speed and surge of momentum. The use of it enabled any attacks afterward to reach great strength. Depending on the number of steps, the user had to have a strong body and a flexible mind. Too much speed may be harsh; a misstep fatal.

Amount of steps corresponded with the stages in Flying Steps, as it had no regular evolutionary pathway, unlike the vast majority of abilities. They corresponded with the leveling journey, making this ability rare, simple, and less convoluted.

Everyone who could get this ability started at Grade F no matter the talent or fate. This was how most constant abilities worked, but not always. Grade F went for up to 3 steps. Each step increased the power of the last one, making every step matter. Each Grade meant 3 new steps, and more layers of those steps meant more power.

It was a movement technique that could allow one to literary reach flying speed and great momentum. It required precision, control, and incredible Will and body. Failure meant backlash, waste, and pain.

Hence, the travel towards Zao was brief, barely taking 3 steps which Razmund used before. Every new step stressed his legs, yet he didn't hesitate to turn it up a notch.

Zao also didn't hesitate, so he turned his sword sideways. Like two scissors, they looked ready to chop a mountain in half. He lowered his posture almost to the ground, kicked the floor, and went forward like a pouncing tiger.

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Two forces arrived at one another, and Razmund was watching everything at high speed, stressed body, and blurred vision. Unlike the sheer speed, he watched everything in unnatural calmness and vividness because of the Heartsear Potion. It was almost in slow motion, but his body barely listened to his command when all he needed was to kill.

Turns, jumping, and general moving of the body while using Flying Steps were very heavy.

His eyes weren't an issue, similar to the claymore in hand that was like Law. One of them stemmed from his Will, and Dexterity allowed his mind to work with this speed. Vitality had also some touches in this but to a lesser degree. His eyes permitted him to perceive reality much better, allowing his mind to be extremely sharp, and his sight to undergo qualitative change.

In that sense, Razmund was a freak in terms of perceptions, but he still couldn't see one thing. Souls.

His eyes were his freakiest source of pride, giving him a tough look and weird complexion that was a byproduct of everything combined. There was no point stopping the source of great power. It was too beneficial, and even his master would agree with it since he basically forced him to lean onto this perception, even though it gave him this look. He didn't complain now, but he sure hated the pain, or how learning and training went.

In a breath, a wild and sharp sound echoed in the Chamber of Battle. With a powerful chop, Zao struck with quite a ferocious attack toward the much smaller opponent, yet surprisingly, the smaller human didn't flinch from this attack. Razmund carried his weight more than enough, and his claymore flexed along his swipe, striking both swords the moment they intersection upon each other, wanting to slice him in half.

In that fraction of a second, Razmund's body twisted, arriving at a complete stop since he struck the swords, instead of Zao himself. This halted the Flying Step at the 3rd Step, allowing him the intercept this two-way attack with a single swipe of his claymore and momentum carried by 3 Steps.

The wild thing about this exchange was that neither of them managed to gain the upper hand.

Razmund managed to jolt back both of the curved blades after shouting and letting his claymore strike the ground as he pushed those large swords away. But at the same time, the reverberations and force from the clash struck him in a backlash. He, along with his own claymore, traveled for dozens of meters away, leaving the ground cracked. It was clear that neither won this exchange. No blood or sword went to the ground.

One would think that what Razmund did was much harder since Zao attacked with quite a crafty attack. Perhaps, any other opponent would've been long cleaved in half.

Zao abandoned his wide, numb hands, still clutching the rough handles of his swords, which ended up disappointing him a little bit. They were unable to do a thing to this sword of human caliber? This disappointed his heart and Pride. What sort of crafty thing was that claymore? For that little sword to go against his, he had met few such swords.

Normally, the human opponents wouldn't be as direct against his swords. It was the difference in mass that made it hard. They would use long-range attacks and other crafty techniques. That was how most humans fought him. This was straightforward without lacking the Pride. He liked it.

“You, human. What sort of weapon is that?” Zao asked, barely flinching in his step after taking this single slash with the power of 3 Flying Steps behind it. Razmund's slash by itself wasn't special by any means, but any slash of a Sword Sage was like a proper technique of ordinary Paths.

“Won't tell,” Razmund replied after stopping his steps and readied himself to fight. He stood straight and didn't fly away like a fool. He simply slid on the ground, secured his momentum by piercing the ground with his claymore, and felt the brittle future ahead. This Zao was trouble.

“Tell me!”

“Well... Even if you insist... No. Not that.” Razmund hesitated and tensed his claymore. “If you will die by my sword, I shall speak to your prided End. Doesn't that sound fitting to you, Titan?”

“Oh?” Zao smiled. “Magnificent idea! What a magnificent Pride! I am moved. Let's do exactly that.” He then grinned much wider than ever before, moved his hands apart, and readied his favorite stance. One sword was wide on his left; the other wide on his right. They were quite far from each other in this stance, making it hard to point out which one he would use. Perhaps both? One?

Because of his wideness, Razmund wasn't sure.

In fact, if one was slashed out, and he defended enough, then the other would finish the job. It was a clever tactic that touched upon this wide room setting. It made differences in mass and height all so apparent, and it was an advantage that Zao obviously liked.

Zao's reach was extensive, so before Razmund could reach him, the second sword would strike him, causing a neverending cycle where he wouldn't reach him. This idea, upon watching his wide stance, instantly replayed in Razmund's mind.

He wasn't sure if he was right or not, but he didn't like imagining the idea of losing. It was one step to truly accept the defeat, so he hated this idea.

But he was not so naive fool. Defeats were part of every path seeker. As a Blessed, he had a life behind him. The kind that allowed him to get some sense of gifts so he could reach this world with his memories intact.

However, his demeanor and ideas changed more than enough after living here for more than 2 decades, numbing the past and overriding it with a ridiculous land of gods and magic. One had few choices. Cherishing it, getting accustomed to it, and following it all were the most common examples. Complaining or not following it was as rare as stupid, but every Blessed was a being with a questionable demeanor, so when past resentments or ideas clashed with new ones, things got complicated.

Razmund followed this world for a long time already. It was fun.

He steadied himself to deal with this attack in his own way. His unblinking eyes were bloodshot and focused, his mouth twitched, and his body tensed up. The fog from before was only temporary, disappearing before he even walked to this arena.

Claymore was heavy in his hand today, and for now, against this Goldsteel Titan, he overlooked his hunt. What was before him was no weird duck after all. He had a foe to kill, so he grinned, enjoying this situation more than he ever thought he would. This was rather surprising for him, which wasn't what he had expected. He just wanted to obliterate his fated enemy and deal with the Encounter for the better good of his future and past.

Now, on the other hand, he was kind of moved by Zao and his Pride. It was a little contagious. Having his limits extended felt great, but he wasn't going all out with a proper dance of his Path. These Flying Steps were a powerful technique on its own wherever his Claymore swung without anything behind. But if a stance and Flying Steps combined together, it was a different story. He focused on this for many years already. Using 3 Steps was far from his limits, or what was possible.

This combat of life and death against powerful Goldsteel Titan will be an unexpected addition to his Path. He shall become stronger from this, reach new comprehension about his head, and swords. A few minutes will be enough. More wouldn't be necessary because long battles weren't up to his body, or techniques, or a combo of potions.

But a simple sword strike was often said to be enough to obliterate any enemy of the Sword Sage.

Razmund had to follow the past steps, so he clutched his claymore with both hands and steadied his breath. The last part was heavier and harder since his Core was heavy like lead. It was fueling his body, pushing his unique grade Physique that constantly needed a flow of mana. It was why he couldn't fight for long periods of time, even if the costs weren't that heavy. Heavy use of Mana Potions helped a lot with it, but those didn't grow on trees, especially when his Mana Core was long past the Initialization Stage.

His feet were firm on the ground; his claymore went above his head. He used the same technique against Thar, but this time, it will be a two-way dance, rather than a singular one. In rightful terms, it will be a fusion of one main dance and one minor move. It will be heavy to fuse it together, but he shall try.

With claymore high above his head, he began to move towards Zao. Step by step, he walked as if unafraid of incoming attacks that were wide and encompassing his whole line of vision.

Zao wasn't clear how and when he would attack, but that went to both of them. Each possibility to kill or defend left behind some clues, or actions. Razmund was wide open, with the long claymore looming above his head like a guillotine, ready to strike any incoming attack. At least that was what Zao felt and saw, but that was far away from him. His reach was quicker and wider, capable of striking this small human.

But he could feel the tension rising from his enemy. A storm was brewing

The tension in the air was so thick, that one may even cut into it. The rising powerful feelings over that claymore weren't hurtful, but wild mana was starting to gather. That claymore was dangerous. Aa instinct that his Pride felt wouldn't allow him to mock it. And as a warrior, one should respect the other warrior. That was undeniably truth and a rule among all kinds of figures, races, and beings.

Goldsteel Titans had the honor, but who knew if the original Titans also had this approach? Probably not...

Attacking the bare body of a warrior, who stepped up and resolved into a powerful stance, spoke thousands of words and acts. It was about resolve, similar to how one didn't attack helpless children.

“What a peculiar stance. I shall meet it with my everything. End this all in a breath! Maybe it will be even the last clash of this fight. Let's see.” Zao said, following through his Pride until the very end, and didn't slash at him as he approached. He asked for it, but even if he did go ahead by using his wide stance, he felt they would've done nothing. He at least felt it. Not know it. It was a hunch. Something deep was telling him that he would've regretted it.

So Zao remained in his wide stance, waiting until Razmund was close in front of him. In the time it took for Razmund to walk this distance, the aura of his sword changed to a pristine, colorful light. He let go of all stops, and his mana was powerful in its full Sharpness Awakening. Thin layers of white and orange overlapped the claymore, turning until they were red. It was how the tide of 1st Dance went.

Cleaving the Earth into Two.

It was the same attack that he used against Thar, but the ending results were quite obvious, but not against Zao. He had no power of an Extreme, nor an Undying Physique.

Titan Physique may be extremely sturdy, but he shall test it.

There was a clear difference in the opponent, and Zao noticed the change in the claymore, mana, and dangers involved. A screeching sword storm grasped the claymore at all fronts, making it dangerous.

In that distance, no Pride shall be taken, forgotten, or betrayed. Zao accepted this sword with what he could. He attacked from his right, twisting and cleaving the air with his right sword first, arriving vertically against Razmund's upper section, aiming at the claymore. This was just a basic confirmation that was following his warrior's heart.

He will fight to the end; to see who was stronger. A change and proper difference shall decide a part of it. Not waiting.

Clash and timing were at a perfect angle for what he was about to do, and Razmund was happy to see that. Zao's Pride was fine foolishness to covet, trust, and fully take advantage of. There was no shame in this. He welcomed it with a thin grin, and gently spoke words under his nose. It was so quiet, that the flickering mana of the blade didn't change at all, nor Zao heard his words.

The claymore went down so quickly and easily, arriving at the first contact with Zao's sword, crashing at it under a breath. Nothing else was obscuring its path, so the incoming slash was expected. A storm of mana and a single heavy clash shook the room, and one of them was stronger.

Zao almost lost the grip on his sword, and couldn't react with the left one in time, because a lot of power went behind Razmund's 1st Dance, obliterating the momentum.

Seeing this success, Razmund turned on the spot and continued with the Dance with his feet alone. He used most of his body strength in maintaining the One Sword and 1st Dance, but he started the other action as well. Strength over the hip bent the power and used a lot of momentum, securing the follow-up attack.

He turned a momentum sideways, and by using his right hand that was clutching the claymore, he grasped the hilt with the left hand that had Destiny Dice wrapped around it. The whole storm went to the ground, closing on his chest, cluttering around the claymore.

The rest of the handle rested in his inner palm, traveling side by side with the rest of the forearm that went along the hand. He was like a dart, ready to strike forward. His left hand moved along with his claymore, opposite of the right hand. It was heavy. Changing the 1st Dance was like holding a true storm.

With this part done, Razmund lowered his left knee and strengthened his core and stance to make the last and following changes. He looked like he held a club, and wanted to smack a bear, but it pointed forward.

Building momentum was a point in almost all swordsmanship. The use and way around them differed, but at the core, they had similar settings and truths. In his hands was power, and the powerful force of momentum went from his hip, arms, and flexed right leg pushed most of it forward.

Both hands clutched the handle, and instead, of a slash, it was a powerful thrust attack that led a massive amount of Sharpness Mana forward. Like a storm, the heavy storm went against the massive blade, which Zao stabilized first before the other.

Razmund right leg's stomp cracked the ground for a few meters around him, and the mana itself shook the ground even more. The Bolt of Sharpness went ahead, straight towards the large target.