Just when everyone thought they couldn't be shocked enough, Dyon made their hearts palpitate with shock once more.
In an instant, his sword changed forms, becoming a glaive that swept through the skies.
His aura shifted from that of an honor bound samurai, to that of a King of War, galloping across the battlefield on a black steed, prepared to take tens of heads with a single swing of his blade.
The heavens blessings poured down as Dyon mastered technique after technique. Shattering through the lower levels of comprehension to sky-rocket into the One with Self realm with absolute ease.
From that moment onward, his weapon constantly changed in his hand. Sometimes it was a spear, at other times it was a rod, and yet other times it was a saber or a halberd.
His War God armor glistened under the skies as the three warriors fought. There was no doubt that if this Mystical World wasn't far more robust in comparison to a planet, it would have been shattered to pieces by now.
