CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 591: How Vast?

In an instant, they materialized at the same spatial coordinates, their blades swinging toward one another with apocalyptic intensity and overwhelming velocity. As the rapier collided with the katana, the world seemed to pause, hesitating as if fearful of the ruin destined to emerge from this contact. The very atmosphere became stifling and dense, existence itself holding its breath in anticipation.

Yet, nothing could remain suspended in time indefinitely. The very next second, reality snapped back, and the sound of weapons crashing together—resembling the impact of giant battering rams—boomed outward, accompanied by a cascading shower of brilliant sparks.

A massive implosion surged forward with terrain-shattering energy, a shockwave tearing across the landscape and erasing everything within a three-kilometer radius as though it were mere dust beneath a blade. The earth split and buckled, deep ravines were carved out by the sheer force, and violent tremors rocked the soil, while ancient, towering trees were pulverized into splinters and ash in a heartbeat.

All this destruction originated from a singular exchange between two mortals—beings possessing power that rivaled, and perhaps even eclipsed, what those on a world like earth might dare label as gods.

Despite the implosion slamming ruthlessly into them, neither man retreated a single step. Their feet remained anchored firmly to the ground, immovable and absolute, appearing as if bound by an unstated oath. Neither party dared concede even an inch, as if it had been preordained that the first to falter would be the one irrevocably branded the loser.

Purple eyes locked with black ones, and for a fleeting moment, a silence reigned between them—a silence far more deafening than the chaos unraveling around them.

Without a word, without the slightest warning, both combatants vanished from sight, as if they had slipped beyond the bounds of reality. Their speed accelerated in every heartbeat, ascending to dimensions that defied human comprehension.

Wherever they passed, sound trailed sluggishly behind, echoing pointlessly in their wake as the displaced atmosphere erupted violently. The very mechanics of sound proved too lethargic, far too trivial to keep pace with these behemoths wrapped in human skin.

Asher became a blur of radiant gold intermingled with deep purple, a comet of fire ripping through space, while Debro manifested as a concentrated bolt of darkness. The two streaks intertwined like the blades of shears, clashing and separating with terrifying frequency as they traded blows.

With every stride, the ground beneath them buckled and erupted into fragments of stone, proving incapable of withstanding their existential pressure. Every movement they made caused the wind to lag and implode, shattering like a sandcastle before an unstoppable surge.

They did not falter, not for contemplation, not for doubt, and not for the sake of the world itself. Their focus remained tethered solely to one another. Nothing dared disrupt them, not even the environment that crumbled in their wake; nearby trees disintegrated into splinters simply from the proximity of their radiating power.

Their blades moved faster than the eye could follow, transforming into shimmering silver arcs within a relentless dance of annihilation. Every strike was calculated, every motion deliberate; their struggle unfolded as a masterclass of transcendent ability. They collided with another thunderous boom before pulling apart, granting each other space for less than a blink. In the next moment, that distance vanished entirely, their steel meeting once more with lethal precision.

The pressure mounted steadily, building with every exchange as the air shrieked against their forms. However, neither paid it any heed. They were far too consumed, far too immersed in the conflict to acknowledge anything as trivial as the wind’s futile resistance.

With a sudden flicker, they appeared atop a massive mountain peak. The moment they arrived, Debro swung his blade. A single, effortless arc sliced through the mountain, dividing the massive formation into four equal sections with chilling exactitude. The peak buckled, collapsing under its own severed weight. But before the destruction had even concluded, both men were already gone, their speeds surging as they accelerated the tempo without hesitation.

They materialized on the crown of a ten-meter tree, their figures phasing in and out as they traded blows. They resembled two entities bound by a volatile tether, unable to exist apart yet finding no peace together. Despite the immense power fueling their movements, the tree beneath them remained pristine, unmoving, as if existing entirely outside the surrounding devastation.

This was no coincidence; it was true mastery.

Their blade control was total, their footwork refined to the point of impossibility. They manipulated their weight with such grace that a single leaf sufficed to anchor them. Indeed, those leaves bore their weight effortlessly, refusing to bend under force that could shatter bedrock. They had reached a state of perfection where even the absurd became essential.

Asher’s rapier flashed brilliantly as he bore down, and with a deafening crash, the tree—and everything in the path of his strike—was excised from existence. A vast chasm, spanning three kilometers, was etched into the earth, a clean, merciless line of destruction carved into the terrain.

Debro’s form shifted instantaneously, reappearing elsewhere to evade the strike with flawless timing. Yet, within a fraction of a second, Asher was there, closing the gap as if distance were meaningless. Once again, they converged like opposite magnetic poles drawn by an inexorable force.

The thunder of their weapons continued, each clash erupting with raw violence. Sparks scattered like dying stars as their steel bit and deflected in savage succession. Their exchanges attained a level of speed and accuracy that bordered on insanity, surpassing anything comprehensible.

If any other sword masters had observed this duel, they would have been rendered mute, capable only of hollow awe. These men were not merely skilled; they were the physical embodiment of the blade. They favored neither strength over speed nor vice-versa, having perfected both to extremes that defied conventional logic. Their strikes cut through the horizon with pinpoint accuracy, their movements forming a calligraphy of war, each stroke inscribed with intent and lethal grace.

Yet, within such savage offense, a delicate balance remained.

For every onslaught, there was an evasion.

For every parry, there was a riposte.

Asher fought with absolute conviction—to kill, to erase, to bring a definitive end. Debro, conversely, fought to maim, to dismantle, to leave nothing intact. Their goals were disparate, yet neither gained an advantage. Clash after clash, neither landed a decisive blow.

But none of that mattered. Neither intended to stop. Not now, and not ever, until one of them fell.

Until that final moment, the slaughter would endure—endless, relentless, without mercy, and without reprieve.

By this stage, the once-majestic forest had been reduced to ash and ruin. Entire kilometers had been wiped from the map, as if they had never existed. The land itself bore the scars of their encounter, fractured and unrecognizable. Regardless, as the scale of their destruction grew, the battlefield expanded outward, as if the forest itself were infinite.

Encounters of such magnitude, or even greater, occurred daily. One could not help but wonder: How vast was Crymora? How immense were its hidden domains, its forests, and its forbidden lands?

Was Crymora truly endless... or was it merely so incomprehensibly large that even devastation of this magnitude meant nothing within its boundless expanse?