As their duel reached a feverish pace, Chronos found himself momentarily entranced by the precision of Heracles's attacks.
The clash of fists, the sparks of energy, and the very air around them seemed to slow as Chronos's perception shifted, his focus drawn to the subtle mastery behind Heracles's strength.
In the fury of their clash, something unexpected happened.
The world seemed to slow, the very fabric of time stretching, bending to the will of Chronos's focus.
Heracles's next strike was aimed at his face, but in this surreal slowness, Chronos had time to analyze it.
It was not simply the trajectory or the force of the blow; it was the sheer mastery of strength itself.
In this slowed time, Chronos's mind began to dissect every movement, every application of power.
He watched as Heracles's fists were enveloped in a bronze glow, the dimensional energy perfectly woven into each strike.
