The power of the Raging Bull was adapting to Razmund's Physique and vice-versa. It wasn't part of his Path, however. Many secondary, or supplementary spells, or techniques could be adjusted to almost any Path. Some could be even far outside of it, but still allowed for changes. This allowed one's general prowess to be better than average, although it had many concepts.

It was how mana usually worked on universal principles, how Physique enchanted the body, and how one's talent or equipment made a huge difference. For swordsmanship and other complicated and technical Paths, some techniques were suitable across most of them. Some may be hardly adjustable, simply because of their detachment from one's Path, or their core's strength was not suitable for the body.

It was a matter of finding, mastering, and using the right fit for one's Path.

And that was where Secret Biddings were absolutely priceless and used for many millennia to change what Paths were in the Battleworld. Those were techniques outside of one's Path and usual limits, adjusted by one thing and only: the Will of the Battleworld. They only operated when one had chosen a Path. Only then did one have a chance to get some Secret Bidding.

They depicted the powers reshaped by the generosity that this world gifted. Will of the Battleworld had a surplus of power and readings, viewing everything under a much larger context and codexes. It had the means to empower and generously send massive rewards to anyone in this world.

It was a wonderful additional case for those who desired something special, so it was certainly not a bad thing. It was how strong figures got more power, similar to how Blessed had a very interesting power dynamic with local powers. It was fair.

Secret Biddings were prone to almost anyone, as long as their Path was officially acknowledged by Will of the Battleworld. It was a noteworthy rule. An already acknowledged Path with history must be under one's life, or someone had to create one. One of those was easier than the other, but at their core, it meant meeting a certain threshold of power and influence.

Blessed were subjected to such choices more often because their knowledge base was much better than someone who had no End behind their life. it wasn't a rule, of course. Many powers viewed Paths as commodities, which made having a Path not that rare in certain places.

Secret Biddings could be techniques, spells, or some unique powers that had many limits in terms of one's Path before becoming a Secret Bidding. They described unique changes to foreign abilities that changed for one's Path. These could be anything from the outside presence, and should never be compatible without the use of Secret Bidding.

But that didn't matter. The Will of the Battleworld can change anything according to one's Path. That was the power that Secret Biddings had, causing Will of the Battleworld to become an important piece to a lot of figures.

Razmund had one long ago because his Path had been with him for a good while already.

Raging Bull was known for its brutality, as it was a non-human-based power. It had roots in the magical beasts, known for their mass and insane physical prowess. Raging Bulls was their unsurprising name. They were Divine Beasts the size of a mountain in the Radagan continent with various powers and strengths.

Razmund never saw one with his own eyes, let alone battled one, but he had the prospect to get their power shaped up to his Path. He took it without hesitation.

It was hard to refuse unique grade spells. Even many Extremes went to considerable lengths to obtain them. And Razmund was no Extreme, so it spoke for itself how Secret Biddings overpowered many limits since their possibilities were massive.

They weren't infinite, of course. There were limits on how potent one's Bidding could get, but generally, their potency was enough to make up for many shortcomings.

Razmund sometimes wondered why there were such advantages, but upon realizing their worth, there was nothing bad to them as long as one could take them.

And there was a possibility one couldn't take them, unfortunately.

Secret Bidding could cause problems since they often came from unfamiliar lands, Paths, and beasts of various shapes. It was up to an individual to choose, but it depended on the Will of the Battleworld how to change them. Ending results varied; problems arose. No person can decide the ending results, so in a weird sense, it was a gamble to get something fitting. Many figures didn't trust everything when it came to Will of the Battleworld, so skepticism around Secret Biddings wasn't small.

But when the gamble succeeded, the rewards were massive.

The road to power was full of skepticism, greed, and taking full advantage of any opening or chances. Few would refuse the power from heaven of this caliber. Razmund was no different. He took the gamble, and it paid off. It was that simple, albeit not many figures shared this opinion. Sometimes, Bidding would be less than stable, filled with clear drawbacks, or specific requirements or circumstances that were hard to meet.

In Razmund's case, there was one too. Raging Bull had a clear problem with stressing one's mind under too much mana flow, originating from these Divine Beasts. He had trouble taking advantage of its flow. One of the many reasons he had problems blinking for a long time was because of years of mastering this power. Part of it was also his Physique and eyes in general, but those weren't that meaningful.

Still, Raging Bull ended up as one of the most insane Secret Biddings Centralis Kingdom had ever seen. At least in the context of Divine Beasts, how it was created, how he even got it, and how he used it.

Like any spell, Raging Bull had its cost, benefits, and usability. It also had progression, so improving it was possible in many ways of levels. Shaping it was helpful since it wasn't working exactly like Bloodline Power of Raging Bulls. Will of the Battleworld changed it well enough so a human could use it, and not become a mangled bloody mess.

Razmund already had a high perception of his own prowess, so the addition of a Raging Bull was a massive boost. It was a proper spell, and when in use, his senses went to sky heights and deep depths. It put stress on things that one wouldn't even dare to guess to feel, but with enough Will, or additional spiritual influences, drawbacks weren't that bad.

Taking advantage of it was something that no Sage wouldn't do. He heard enough and was taught it too.

Grabbing his claymore with both hands, the weight and mass of it were like a feather. When the azure waves twisted his arms, he fought against them, Shaping them like strings for a puppet, but it was all under his control. Razmund felt the effects of Raging Bull immediately, and for the first time in a couple of minutes, he didn't deflect the blade that went against his whole torso. He went against it with his whole being, stubbornly feeling his power.

Sparks clustered the empty air above the floor, and surprisingly, neither foe was better than the other. Their powers countered one another just enough. That shocked Zao, who looked down in shock when he wanted to finish him off. It was the first time he met a human opponent that took his Guillotine Chop so head-on. It had a wide and powerful range of motion with enough power to split part of mountains. Humans were too small to take this kind of attack unless the levels were higher.

Zao was a champion for his level, as he had defeated many Challengers in more than 100 years since he arrived here. His left hand clutched the remaining blade, while the other was free to do whatever since he wasn't so comfortable to hold his single blade with both hands. It wasn't made for double grip, which turned his anger and disappointment to another level. Fighting as he could right now was his priority. Not how he should.

Holding this sword with both hands caused a lack of flexibility, so he handled it by not handling it at all. His free hand occasionally tried to grab or punch Razmund, creating options and variables that both of them fought against.

So much so, that right now, Zao was in the perfect position to use it to his advantage, since Razmund kept his feet on the ground, he was unable to move as he tested his strength against his Chop. He glared at Zao with an ashen look, realizing one problem. The defense was not that great in this state, so Zao may as well smack him well.

Razmund watched a shadow flicker from his left side. A humongous fist was coming at him like a boulder, so he forced his claymore aside, deflecting the mountainous blade. It seemed easy, but it wasn't. Without Raging Bull, he had some misgivings about his strength, and taking the fist or the massive Chop together was like deciding on the lesser evil.

Deciding to take it all by his claymore proved to be a good idea.

The fist connected to the claymore. The power behind this simple fist went against his entire body, but Razmund stayed on his feet, which was surprising. His core screamed at him in stress, and his hands holding the claymore almost snapped. Nothing broke because of the Raging Bull overflowing his upper body.

He slid on top of the floor for dozens of meters, almost ending on the opposite side of this huge room. He was fine afterward as if his body was as heavy as a dozen elephants. In the way of his travel, there were two lines left in the ground, as if two sword strikes hit the floor.

Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth to the floor. He wiped his lips with his left hand, noticing Destiny Dice shining under his eyes. His promise kept his sanity in check, while this little cursed treasure was a reminder of his goal.

“Weak.” Was his first word after a long stretch of silent fighting.

Zao grimaced and didn't follow up after his fist because he wasn't ready to connect this fast. He had fought all out for a good while, but like anyone, he wouldn't last forever in this state. Razmund was the same, but Zao had a different kind of attitude. He was neither angry, shocked, nor happy. It was the kind of face that a madman would make when met with something absurd.

He had a face of love and passion, but the kind that was a bit... strange. Intense may be the best way to put it. His sword and hand trembled, and a smile crept on his face when he stepped forward. Then he started a weird movement akin to a free fall as if he stumbled, which made him look as if he was collapsing but was far from it. As he fell, his fingers on his feet dug to the floor. In the moment before he faced the ground, he flexed his everything.

And then he pushed, using his own Dance: Floating River that Cleaved the Sky.

The single blade went along his fall in his left hand. It was an intricate striking pattern, making the timing and angle strange as Razmund watched him. Zao pushed himself hard, traveling at wild momentum, great speeds, and at an angle that was as direct as it could get. But the sword wasn't facing the enemy. Zao held the sword upside down. His thumb was at the end of the hilt, unlike usual, where the thumb gripped the lowest point of the handle.

As he pounced, the sword's edge came to Razmund's point of view in less than a second. The angle and speed of this slash came in a flash, and Zao swiped it before his face, leaving a deep cut in the ground behind him, caused by a flowing wave of the tip. The blade slash flew like a river, and there was no mana around him.

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Everything happened deep in his body, making it physical as Zao's swordsmanship was heavy, but also vastly weaker than it should've been. A single blade didn't change it much, however.

Razmund barely realized the speed of this move with his current body. He barely took this fist up to his head. When Zao traveled dozens of meters in a flash, he could only watch how his Dance crossed past his last-second defense, almost stumbling his claymore from his hand. Raging Bull moved its waves too, just in case, but the wave-like slash passed his claymore, slashing at his shoulder.

It almost cleaved his left arm away from his body completely. Considering the mass of the blade, the cut was not only deep and rough, akin to an explosion, but it was exposing the flesh and destroying the bones.

The wave slashed his torso alone, leaving bloodshed on the floor and behind. Yet, through this fatal hit, Razmund still clutched the claymore without a speck of Will to let go of it. Even though the left hand was almost outside of his body, exposing the bones, blood, and flesh, he stood.

He stared blankly forward, viewing every second of Zao's Dance and etching it to his memory. His body couldn't move, but his eyes watched it all. That was an excellent harvest that any Sword Sage would appreciate. Viewing the intricate Dances moved their heart, manifested their potential, and changed their hopes. It was a matter of new perspectives that often changed them, as Path of a Sword Sage held various techniques.

Someone in the Sword Pathway could work with many Dances at once, as long as it could be compatible, or comprehensible under the same vision. It was one of the most replicated power systems, and if one wanted to remain unique, one had to create a Dance so wild and sturdy, that no one should be able to replicate that. It was a principle that ran across many Paths, driving individuals to create a piece of their legacy to last through time.

It was a dream of all sword artists to be unique and create a swordsmanship that no one would be able to replicate. Razmund wanted to master countless Dances to make himself a true Sword Sage, before combining them as his legacy.

A quick clash happened in the blink, and the sheer speed that Zao used to crash forward, backfired, causing him to dash further without stopping. So much so, that he bumped into the wall quite a distance away, shattering the wall. There was such a huge force of momentum over this Dance that he couldn't stop, or change the directions. It was a pure attacking move that was as straightforward as a Pride.

It was a fitting end to this fight, or so he thought with sheer indifference and no words.

Razmund glanced at his open left shoulder. Wriggling flesh and dripping blood were turning around the cut. There was an unnatural source of blood in his body, causing an unnatural amount of blood loss without it being fatal. Muscles twitched as if busy solving their separation and even Raging Bull dispersed.

Blood was flowing out of the deep wound in many layers, bathing his body and squirting like a fountain away. Even his lungs and heart were visible from this deep cut, shaking and moving. The exposed mid-section looked gnarly, yet his head was weirdly fine, but also close to this wound.

If Zao had been a bit more accurate in his step and angled his single blade better, he would've severed his torso completely.

Zao was away so that left Razmun alone. He watched his body with a strange detachment, almost as if this wasn't a fatal wound at all or his body.

Letting go of his claymore, it dug to the ground. With the right hand still fine, he grabbed something from the pouch that was fortunately safe, albeit it pained his heart. Once again, a potion went out of his pouch. It was a weird one, appearing like a hexagonal orb with droplets of velvet liquid inside crystal-like borders. The glass itself was strange and it was hard to tell if it was even made from glass at all. It looked like a prison instead, remaining twisting in the air, as if the air, or space itself was the material it was made with.

“Fuck... Taking this here... I guess it is a fitting end to spend a fortune on this Hunt.” Razmund mumbled, but his words became a mess after blood went to his throat. Damaged lungs tried to repair themselves when his Physique did what it should, but it was clearly not enough. So he pulled his palm towards his shoulder, clutching the hexagonal orb until it crashed and exploded to bits.

A surge of countless strands of strings exploded next, twisting and crawling meters around him as if possessed. In a mere breath, all of the droplets of that liquid escaped its prison, looking for a host.

The treasure of this caliber was tough to wield, but Razmund knew what it was, so he opened his palm which held most of the liquid. Then he forced them into his open wound, causing the flickering strings to pour in and out of his wounds. They were eating the blood, rushing in the exposed flesh and bones, and undulating powerful Vitality, as well as a tinge of something else.

This was a treasured source of living restoration. A Grade SS treasure: Tears of Leviathan. It was an Essence of their Bloodline, coming from the heart of a Divine Beast of aquatic origin, from Lands of Unknown, or Uncharted Seas. Those Lands and aquatic Depths were topics of deep fear in the continents, and as far as anything went, the Depths of the oceans and seas were deep, hiding countless nightmares.

Each string was like a thread of life, swirling and knitting the flesh together from inside out, solving even bones, but not blood. Blood was the price, and even the blood on the floor or his clothes disappeared to those strings. Bloody droplets weren't the true treasures. Strings came from it, making the droplets a catalyst. They held an incredible amount of Vitality that was almost dangerous.

Razmund's body could take it even when the blood loss was extensive, and Heartsear Potion's effects would diminish a lot. Perhaps it will expire...

Healing almost all wounds in a few moments was the power of almost all Grade S and above Healing Potions. As for its price? That... wasn't known to the public. The majority of powerful Blessed wouldn't take such treasurers for granted. Only a few would get to experience it, let alone see it once in a while. It was life-saving medicine, so it made sense because no one wanted to expose one's body to seek the End.

Razmund clutched his teeth and fell to his knees. The pain was indeed too much. The blood within the open wound exploded next, as another stage of healing was starting. It was a nasty feeling to have the body exposed amidst the swirling motions of those Tears.

At incredible speeds, countless strings worked and started to reform the other wounds. It started by reconnecting the cleanly cut flesh first, so no more blood escaped, so Tears could eat more blood. Even bones that were shattered, and not cut so nicely, somewhat returned to pristine condition.

It was a fast process where a few blinks weren't enough to see it all. The bloody Tears trembled, and the wound closed, leaving his torso whole once again. Even the Tears disappeared inside, cleaning the wound, and letting the outer flesh clean.

Zao had no time to see the start, nor the end of this process at all. But he felt something was amiss. He took the hit against a wall, so he scowled, punching the wall when he got to his feet.

The only downside of Tears of Leviathan was obvious. The blood that was lost, couldn't be returned. It was a laughable price for Razmund whose Physique was perfect for this sort of treasure. With the bloody feast, the Tears took his blood and will remain inside of his body, slowly withering away and nurturing his body. Nothing much was lost.

Considering the fatality of that slash, it was wonderful that not even a scar was left behind. The blood and pain were about it, and while the few shattered bones were pain he wouldn't forget, the whole cut was one of the nastiest wounds he had ever felt.

These were issues that Tears of the Leviathan could fix without problems, but it required Will to take it, as well as a very powerful Physique.

Razmund sighed in relief, still trembling his body and kneeling. He felt fine, but he was closer to the End than he ever was in the past few years. “Titans... I guess I was a bit too naive. Thinking that I can take them on with very little effort. Those guys are toys of the Gods and work with them at many points. Their Physique used to be at the apex of the Ancient Races, but this one... I can see a road to some victory, but taking another hit won't do for sure.” He mumbled to himself and retrieved his clamore with his right hand.

Getting back to his feet, he turned to face the wall, where Zao finally returned from his wild trip. He looked at him, expecting the bloody sight of his successful kill, yet he ended up disappointed, as he feared.

His expectations weren't met at all. Razmund appeared fine and even wore a slight mocking grin. His claymore pointed forward, expecting another go at his blade.

“Hoh? I swear I almost cleaved your body clean. What is it... That? That blood and your previous light?” Zao muttered, looking at Razmund in bewilderment. He could see the slight blood marks on the floor that were so minuscule, those strings didn't eat them. Then, he glanced at his shirtless upper body, since his attack shattered his clothes. Skin looked fine. Too fine, in fact. Zao shattered his mana and flesh along with his Physique.

In any normal world, he should've perished.

Everything spoke for itself, and Zao knew his attack succeeded, but Razmund looked like he had taken it. He was pale, and a loss of a lot of blood affected his mind, causing the Heartsear Potion to take a major dip. His time went from a couple of minutes to a few exchanges, and he had to be fast. Tears of Leviathan's effects will help and support him for the time being, but his Core took a heavy hit as well.

Around Razmund's left shoulder kept going a few of those strings, going around the previous cut, that wouldn't leave a scar behind. They won't remain there forever. They will cease to exist in the flicker of the wind after their Vitaliy reaches the end.

“Tears... Bloody tears... I see.” Zao smelt the air. “You have treasures that saved your life. You should be as proud as alive, considering I would've cleaved you in half if I had both blades,” he said, taking this surprisingly well and almost with a smile. “I suppose this is part of how humans do their bindings. Should have expected something like that.”

Then he nodded in understanding and walked towards Razmund without a speck of anger or disappointment. It wasn't about Pride any longer, but as a warrior, this exchange was his win.

But the exchange wasn't the end of the fights until it ended in the End. Wars never ended simply as well. This whole fight had only one outcome: The End of one of them. Nothing else. That was the rule set up by the Levandis, while Mindarch was subject to monitoring whether it was working at all times.

Zao was clear in his heart, since what else was there for him other than fight? Not fighting was not possible. His race had a clear idea behind the Pride. Serving someone more powerful than them was fine. They didn't mind it as their Bloodline should. Of course, he had chosen to fight to the bitter end, and he preferred it over anything else.

Razmund remained ashen and silent. He watched how Zao stopped about 15 meters before him, and he made the same stance as before: blade backward and stance relaxed. “I will shatter and cleave you in half this time,” Zao promised it out loud.

He clutched his remaining blade, making the same falling motion as before.

“Doing the same Dance twice? It may not be that good idea.” Razmund said while pointing his claymore forward. His words washed the anxiety over Zao's mind. Do the same attack twice? Was he nervous? This was a rookie mistake that could end one's life. Zao forgot who was before him, so he stomped the ground and straightened his back to glance at his blade.

“This one... I am indeed inept with the lonely one. It's not my Pride to fight like this, but it's still something I shall do to not tarnish this fight. If not, let the death be the End of it.” By his words, the tinge of hesitation on his face and mind was gone.

Razmund watched the calmness return to his enemy, and power surged around his cracks, golden liquid seemed more wild, and his stance relaxed once more.

Oh crap... Where are my manners? Should have remained silent. What a mistake. Razmund scowled inside, thinking that he hyped Zao in the wrong way. A clear way to counter that Dance was hard to do if his body wasn't up to his task. Even if he knew it could come, he had less than half certainty he wouldn't get hit.

And half a chance to die was astronomical and something he refused to try.

Seeing his Dance for the very first time was the reason he was unable to do much against it. That was usually the deciding factor between experience, End, and living. Disparity over the close battle of more or less, similar powerful opponents, was sometimes less than small. It could also be as humongous as a mountain, causing advantages to lean towards the winner.

Zao had a body and power advantage and it showed.

Razmund acknowledged a strong enemy, and it seemed to him that this temple had chosen a very capable Guardian. For Gate 1... it was way too powerful.

Who knew what the next gate would be like, but he had no idea where he would end. Was he even thinking of that? His mind focused on the battle, so what if he fought the devils or demons? Nothing will matter to him if he will kill them all.

Razmund sighed and watched as Zao turned serious. Lowering his posture, his blade flickered backways, and his feet dug to the ground. Once more, he pounced at him with his large curved blade. It was coming again. Razmund saw it, but with a weakened body that would shatter without doubts.

His mind had never been this empty, lingering pain made it wrong, and his core flared in mana.

Under a breath, he went over his choices. Heartsear Potion had few exchanges left, and Raging Bull faded after taking way too much of a hit.

So, with a clear head and a healed body, he activated the Raging Bull once more. His Vitality can take it; his Physique too. He already felt the blood pumping through his veins. The Tears of Leviathan were Grade SS for his sake, so their effects weren't only immediate, but long-lasting and powerful to save even Extremes. They effectively ate the wound close because his Vitality was losing.

These strands ate it all, so they wouldn't escape so easily with a meal inside of him. They will nurture him from the inside, while the blood loss wasn't an issue if disappearing blood pumped through their effects and his Physique. It worked in a great loop that didn't have any loopholes.

Razmund was ready to take his Dance with his own.