A cold and bloodthirsty smile appeared on Aladon's face as he watched his swords—more than thirty in total—hurtling toward the human. Even though Aladon's wounds hindered his full might, he remained convinced of his impending triumph. Each sword possessed the power of a complete attack from an Early Divine Transcendence Master, and unleashing so many at once rendered a counter seemingly impossible. To Aladon's eyes, there was no way the young man could emerge alive.
However, fate defied his expectations.
"CLANKKK!"
The moment the swords met Cain's flesh, they failed to slice through it. No stab wounds. Not a single droplet of blood drawn. Instead of cowering in terror, Cain merely smiled as though he had anticipated such a scenario.
