At this moment, Keynes' entire body was drenched in blood, covered in countless wounds. Some were frostbitten marks, others were burns left by raging flames.
His body swayed precariously, as if each step was accompanied by excruciating pain.
Yet, despite the agony, he relentlessly swung his fists, pounding the fallen Blackstone Duke.
The duke's face was no longer recognizable, his flesh mangled beyond recognition.
Yet, despite the horrific injuries, his tenacity was terrifying. He clung to life with a monstrous vitality.
Keynes' breathing became labored, his punches slowing as his strength waned.
What drove Keynes to despair was that no matter how much force he put into his blows, Blackstone Duke refused to die.
There were no signs of death, only stubborn resilience.
Keynes could feel his psychic energy draining with each attack, leaving him weaker with every passing moment.
On the ground, the Blackstone Duke, though seemingly close to death, still possessed an abundance of psychic energy.
In this war of attrition, he had the upper hand.
Around the square, Keynes' followers began to gather, watching this brutal father-son battle.
Many wanted to step in and help—Keynes was clearly on the brink of collapse.
But every time they tried to approach, Keynes would grit his teeth through the pain and raise his hand to stop them.
"Stay back!" His voice was hoarse and weak, yet firm.
He didn't want anyone interfering in this revenge.
It was a grudge between him and his father, the Blackstone Duke, and it had to end by his hand alone.
His fists continued to fall, though his body was nearing its limit.
His breaths were heavy, and the depletion of his psychic energy made it nearly impossible for him to remain standing.
He was at his breaking point. Yet, his father, the Blackstone Duke, remained an indomitable force, his vitality refusing to falter.
It was a display of sheer, overwhelming power.
"Why… why won't you die?" Keynes growled, his voice cracking with frustration, rage, and despair.
Years of pent-up hatred had reached their climax, but so too had a deep sense of helplessness.
"Get out of the way!"
The voice of the bull-headed demon suddenly shouted in Keynes' mind, and without waiting for Keynes' permission, it forcibly took control of his body, making him roll backward to avoid the impending danger.
In that moment, the seemingly lifeless Blackstone Duke slowly rose to his feet.
His psychic energy spread rapidly, growing in intensity until it enveloped the entire square. The oppressive power he exuded was suffocating.
On the right side of his body, flames erupted violently, consuming his skin, muscle, and even his bones.
The flames roared like a demon, leaving only bare white bones and a hideous, fiery grin.
The left side of his body was enveloped in extreme cold.
Frost spread quickly across his skin, freezing his muscles and blood solid.
His left cheek was frozen in place, looking like an ice sculpture.
This half-fire, half-ice transformation made the Blackstone Duke look more like a demon from the depths of hell.
Psychic energy raged inside him, and the duke's presence dominated the battlefield.
Keynes stood there, full of frustration and disbelief.
He clenched his fists, his eyes filled with pain and despair.
He couldn't believe that after giving everything, he still couldn't bring down his father—the Blackstone Duke he had sworn to kill.
"Why? Why!"
Keynes screamed, his voice raw with hatred, his psychic energy nearly depleted.
The Blackstone Duke stood firm, his body engulfed in the flames and ice that continued to burn and freeze everything around him.
His voice was deep, carrying a mocking tone.
"Keynes, your power is no match for mine. You think you can kill me? You'll never succeed."
Around the square, Keynes' subordinates watched in horror as the Blackstone Duke unleashed his terrifying power.
The ground split beneath the duke's feet, flames raged, and frost spread in all directions, dividing the square into two halves—one of fire, the other of ice.
The oppressive heat and freezing cold filled the air, making it difficult for anyone to breathe. The Blackstone Duke was the undisputed master of this battlefield.
Even the bull-headed demon inside Keynes' mind couldn't contain its panic.
"Your old man... he's too strong!" the demon said, its usual playful tone now tinged with fear.
Keynes gritted his teeth, cold sweat mixed with blood on his brow. He knew he was outmatched.
The Blackstone Duke's figure flickered, and before Keynes could react, the duke appeared at his side with lightning speed.
The ground erupted beneath him, leaving a crater in his wake.
Before Keynes could respond, the duke's fiery right fist crashed into his abdomen, burning straight through his body.
The fire pierced him, spreading unbearable pain from his stomach outward.
Keynes gasped, his scream caught in his throat, as the duke's left knee, encased in sharp ice spikes, slammed into his chin.
The ice spikes embedded themselves deep in Keynes' jaw, causing blood to gush down his face.
Keynes' body was hurled into a nearby building, smashing through the walls as rubble collapsed on top of him.
He lay buried in the debris, gasping for air, barely able to move. His vision blurred, and blood flowed freely from his wounds.
Through his foggy sight, he saw the Blackstone Duke approaching him slowly, step by step. Each footfall left behind trails of fire and ice.
"Damn it..." Keynes gritted his teeth and struggled to his feet, preparing for one final charge.
He staggered forward, his horns lowered, as he pushed himself towards the Blackstone Duke in a desperate, last-ditch effort.
The duke watched his son's futile attempt with cold indifference, showing no sign of emotion.
Just as Keynes closed in, the Blackstone Duke calmly lifted his foot and, with a powerful surge of psychic energy, kicked Keynes squarely in the chest.
Once again, Keynes was sent flying, crashing into the center of the square with a deafening thud.
He lay motionless on the ground, his body broken and bloodied, barely able to draw breath.
As his vision faded, he could make out the worried faces of his subordinates gathered around the square.
They looked on in horror, unable to help.
With great effort, Keynes managed to open his mouth and speak, his voice weak.