MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

In a blur, two palms met in the void of outer space, as though the hands of gods themselves had clashed. The impact unleashed a cataclysmic shockwave, and the very fabric of space between Lilithra and Anthony crumpled into nothingness.

Beneath them, the protostar, straining against the force, finally yielded, shattering into a supernova.

With a detonation that could herald the end of worlds, the stellar core erupted, releasing an annihilating tide of energy. In that instant, both Lilithra and Anthony vanished, consumed by the blinding surge that threatened to engulf all.

A heartbeat later, they reemerged upon the blazing tail of a comet, their feet gliding over the infernal surface as if untouched by its searing heat, movements fluid and unbroken.

The very galaxy dissolved into a smear of motion in their eyes, as they moved with the lethality and grace of warriors who had honed their craft over eons.

They circled one another as if bound by an invisible cord, exchanging blows in a lethal dance that resembled a cosmic tetherball of violence. Each strike was heavy with finality, imbued with the promise that it could end the battle in an instant.

And yet, neither had landed a single decisive hit. It was as though they were equals in raw physicality and honed instinct, though both understood the truth: neither had begun to fight in earnest.

They had only just crossed paths. For Lilithra, it had been an age since she had endured such a prolonged duel. For Anthony, this was his first encounter at such a harrowing level.

The wind howled in protest as they moved in blinding arcs, their figures reduced to streaks of light, as though they could traverse light-years in a single heartbeat.

The battle devolved into a maelstrom of motion, impact and recoil merging into a singular, relentless storm. In an instant, they closed the distance, chest to chest, trading short, vicious strikes with the intent of cornered assassins, each blow seeking an opening that did not exist.

Lilithra found herself growing more astonished with every passing exchange. The realization struck her, had any other Demon Monarch, save for those in direct service to the Demon King, come in her stead, they would have been utterly defeated in the sheer physical contest alone.

It defied all logic.

A human… had truly reached this level?

Blow for blow, speed for speed, the boy before her matched her without faltering. His battle instincts and refined execution bordered on the absurd. From the vitality radiating from him, she could tell he had not even lived half a century, and yet here he was, performing feats she deemed impossible.

'An anomaly,' she thought.

Even if the boy had fought unceasingly from the moment of his birth, such a reservoir of combat experience should have been unattainable.

She herself was no stranger to prodigious talent, her own abilities had been so exceptional that the Demon King had personally recruited her into his ranks, a fact in which she had long taken pride.

Yet, in all the million years she had roamed existence, she had never witnessed anything like this.

She had shifted tactics numerous times, altering her approach, her timing, her rhythm, each with the intent of ending the battle in a single, decisive stroke. And each time, the human adapted seamlessly, as though he had foreseen her moves long before she made them.

At the level of a Demon Monarch, there was no higher realm of cultivation to ascend, only the endless refinement of skill, the pursuit of greater mastery, the honing of combat prowess to perfection.

And yet… the boy before her had not even touched that pinnacle. He still dwelled within the boundaries of the ordinary normal Rank.

She was not even moving at half her full speed. And she knew, with unsettling certainty, that he too was holding back.

Still, as one who had lived for over a million years, her senses were honed to a razor's edge. Somewhere deep within them, a subtle prickle of danger stirred at the back of her mind, so faint she had dismissed it until now. But it was there. Persistent. Warning.

Though deep in thought, Lilithra's momentum never faltered. Her movements remained just as sharp, just as lethal, her efficiency unbroken, not diminished by so much as a fraction despite the internal monologue unfolding within her mind.

Each strike was a blade carved from pure motion, cleaving through distance and defense alike. Every blow crashed forward with the inevitability of an avalanche, a hammer forged of flesh and bone.

Yet Anthony received it all as if it were nothing. Whatever Lilithra unleashed, he returned in kind, without hesitation, without strain, as if every counter were a reflex etched into his very being.

Their afterimages carved through the tapestry of worlds, streaking across reality at a pace that seemed to outstrip time itself. Even space, it seemed, dared not constrain them.

It was martial brilliance in its purest form, combat distilled to its essence. Were the Titan race watching at this moment, even they would not dare proclaim themselves masters of hand-to-hand combat.

The air thundered with the force of their collisions, blasts erupting at every point of contact. Every limb, every motion, every fraction of their bodies was a weapon, each honed for one purpose: to destroy the other.

Suddenly, Lilithra disengaged, her form blurring backward as she carved a gulf of space between them. Suspended in the void, she hovered with effortless grace, her crimson eyes flickering faintly as they locked onto Anthony.

"It seems you are an anomaly in every sense of the word," she said, her voice calm but edged with intrigue.

"Although I have been moving at only half my physical capacity, the fact that you can match me at all is outrageous. I am a being who has fought for over a million years, and yet here I stand, matched blow for blow by a child who has not even glimpsed the true breadth of the galaxy."

Anthony remained silent, only watching her with an unreadable expression. Then, as her words sank in, a faint smile curved his lips. The revelation that she had been using only half her physical prowess did not diminish his composure, instead, it seemed to sharpen it.

"But that ends now," Lilithra continued, her voice a soft but steady declaration. "From this moment, I will fight with my full strength and speed, drawing upon every fragment of battle experience earned across countless wars and worlds. Let us see how long you can survive."

Even before she finished speaking, Anthony felt it, a shift so profound it was as though the Lilithra before him had been replaced entirely. Her presence swelled, sharpened, and deepened, exuding a weight that pressed against reality itself.

"Don't disappoint me after all that monologue," Anthony replied evenly.

Raising his hands, he slid into a martial stance, his smile hardening into the razor's edge of intent. The air between them seemed to crackle in anticipation as both prepared to take the battle to a level far beyond what had come before.