The blow was heavy. And numerous.
The Specter, who was born from the Star itself, had no idea a human with this kind of power existed. It had parried the scythe and corroded it, shattering the flimsy thing with its power. But the human merely summoned another one, and when it wasn't enough, he coated his fist with dense mana and pummeled the Specter without stopping.
Was this human didn't get tired?
The Specter couldn't understand. The human used darkness--from the scythe that kept swinging, the stakes appearing in the air, the thorns sprouting from the ground, the giant serpent rampaging on the field...even the barrier surrounding him. Everything was made of darkness, just like the sky and the space and the Specter itself.
And yet, it was different. The darkness, if the Specter could understand it, was pure. It wasn't murky, it wasn't stifling. It was imposing, it was unyielding, and, as weird as it was, the darkness was shining.
