Rex did not merely attack; he orchestrated a symphony of anatomical destruction. His Martial Arts Mastery and Weapons Mastery had fused with his Telekinesis Full Potential in a terrifying display of synchronized violence.
Every physical movement was augmented by an invisible, crushing layer of telekinetic force, meaning every strike didn't just land; it arrived from two directions at once: the fist itself and the gravitational pressure surrounding it.
CRUNCH.
A single punch to Apollo's ribs didn't require a wind-up or an exchange of blows. There was no struggle, no desperate parry.
There was only the immediate, wet sound of structural failure as the ribs caved inward like dried kindling, piercing the lung tissue. Apollo gasped, a spray of crimson mist erupting from his lips, but Rex was already moving.
A follow-up kick swept through the air, reinforced by telekinetic momentum, and caught Apollo's raised arm.
SNAP CRACK.
