The cut had been clean.
Asterion's entire arm was gone, leaving behind only a short stump attached to his shoulder, blood gushing violently from the wound.
His lava-like blood boiled against the ground while the Uncrowned Emperor staggered backward, struggling to steady himself.
And the severed arm was far from the only damage he had suffered.
His entire body was covered in deep wounds that had left horrific scars behind, even after the old hunter had forcibly closed them.
The pain was excruciating.
Yet Asterion didn't even blink.
His bloodshot eyes instead reflected a strange calm, almost as though he had expected something like this to happen from the very beginning.
'Ah… how pathetic.'
Asterion looked at what remained of his arm.
'I claimed that human logic didn't apply to me, but in the end, I'm still just a human whose strength faded with age…'
From the very beginning, the battle between the strongest had never been fair.
