Mid-air—
Steel screamed.
Black met red again, their blades colliding with a force that split the sky like thin glass. Fractures spread across the mirrored realm, mending just as quickly as they formed, as if reality itself was struggling to keep up.
Drax adjusted his grip.
Something shifted.
Not outside—
Inside.
His will sharpened.
Condensed.
Focused.
And the Abyss answered.
The sword in his hand… changed.
The form stabilized.
Solidified.
No longer just a construct born from essence—
It became real.
A true weapon.
The hilt dark as night, carved with the faint shape of the Black Tree. The blade itself—pure black, swallowing light rather than reflecting it.
Drax looked at it briefly.
Then smiled.
"…I'll call you Nightmare."
The man with hazel eyes watched.
And for the first time—
He smiled wider.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Drax met him head-on.
CLANG.
Sparks burst between them as Nightmare clashed against the red blade. Their movements accelerated instantly—no hesitation, no testing phase anymore.
They were both in it.
Fully.
The man stepped in with a diagonal cut aimed for Drax's shoulder—
Drax pivoted, letting the blade skim past as he countered with a horizontal sweep toward the ribs.
Blocked.
The man twisted his wrist, redirecting the force upward before stepping in close—
Elbow strike—
Drax leaned back just enough to avoid it, bringing Nightmare up in a tight arc toward the man's neck—
The man ducked, sliding forward and slashing upward—
Drax jumped, rotating mid-air and bringing his blade down like a falling strike—
CLANG.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Every clash tighter.
Sharper.
More precise.
Drax's mind ran quietly beneath the chaos.
Since I grasped sword intent…
Their blades collided again, sparks scattering across the sky.
I understand its mechanics now.
The man's sword flared red, the glow intensifying as his strikes grew heavier, sharper—each swing carrying not just force, but decision.
Sword essence… manifests based on the user's own nature…
Drax parried, stepping inside the man's guard and striking low—
Blocked.
Reversed.
Forced back.
It's as strong as your will.
The man pressed forward, his attacks relentless.
Drax slid backward, absorbing the rhythm.
Learning.
If you don't trust your sword…
He stepped in again.
And yourself…
Nightmare moved faster.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
You're already dead.
His blade glowed.
Not like before.
Not like simple abyssal coating.
This was deeper.
Heavier.
Black—not just in color, but in presence.
The man's red met it again—
BOOM.
The entire sky realm shattered.
For a moment—
There was nothing.
Just darkness.
Just space.
Just two figures suspended in something beyond the realm.
Then—
It healed.
Like it never broke.
Drax exhaled once.
A faint grin forming.
"…I'm enjoying this."
He rolled his wrist, Nightmare humming softly.
"I don't want to use anything else to beat you."
His stance shifted.
Grounded.
Centered.
"Just sword intent."
He stepped back.
Creating distance.
The man didn't chase.
He understood.
Drax raised Nightmare slowly.
"…Sword."
His breath steadied.
"…Body."
His grip tightened.
"…Mind."
His eyes sharpened.
"…Heart."
Everything aligned.
"Sword Will."
Above him—
A massive black sword formed.
It hovered in the sky, its presence so dense it bent the space around it.
The man raised his blade as well.
His red aura surged.
A giant crimson sword appeared above him—burning, radiant, absolute.
He smiled.
Drax smiled back.
No words needed.
They both swung.
At the same time.
The blades above descended.
Black.
Red.
Collision—
Silence.
Then—
Detonation.
A massive explosion tore through the entire sky realm, erasing everything in its path.
But at the center—
Drax stood.
An Abyssal Shield formed instinctively around him, absorbing the impact, dispersing the force.
When the light faded—
The realm began to rebuild.
Slowly.
Piece by piece.
The man—
Lay on the ground.
Defeated.
Drax descended quietly, landing a few steps away.
The man's body began to fade, fragments of light breaking off from him.
But his eyes were still clear.
Still calm.
Still… alive.
He smiled.
"You have… great potential…"
His voice was quiet, but steady.
"…enemy of the gods."
Drax didn't interrupt.
"To imitate the Sky Severing Arts… to this level…"
He chuckled softly.
"…I guess it was fate."
He looked at Drax one last time.
"Could you do me a favor?"
Drax nodded once.
"…It's the least I can do."
"You taught me sword intent."
The man's smile softened.
"If you find someone worthy…"
"…someone with talent… or heart…"
His gaze drifted slightly upward.
"…pass it on."
Drax smiled.
"No problem."
The man nodded.
Satisfied.
Then—
He disappeared.
Gone.
The realm stabilized fully.
Silence returned.
Then—
The voice.
"Floor Five Cleared, Contender."
Drax stood still, Nightmare resting at his side.
"Before proceeding to Floor Six…"
The space in front of him shifted.
"You are required to enter the Resting Zone."
A doorway formed.
White.
Calm.
"From Floor Six onward…"
The voice paused.
"The structure of the tower will change."
Drax's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Restrictions will be placed upon the contender."
Silence followed.
Drax looked at the doorway.
Then smirked.
"…I don't like this tower."
A brief pause.
Then—
He stepped forward.
"But I do love the challenges."
And walked in.