Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1885 Tyrant Heaven Shatter!

But that half step only sharpened Damian's gaze, and his sword style changed at once. Rather than continuing to meet Rakan's ferocity head-on, his blade became cleaner, colder, and far more precise.

"Thousand Thread Severance."

The silver-white sword light split into countless narrow lines. Each line targeted a different part of Rakan's movement, cutting at the wrist, the shoulder joint, the knee, the waist, and the ankle.

It was not a technique built to overpower strength. It was a sword art designed to sever rhythm, structure, and continuity within an opponent's body.

Rakan's face grew more serious. He crossed both arms before him and took the attack head-on, but the lines of sword light still bit into his skin one after another. Several shallow wounds opened at once, and more importantly, his next forward burst lost its perfect rhythm.

Damian stepped in.

"Silent Star Draw."

A vertical sword line fell straight toward Rakan's chest.

Rakan roared. "War God Body, Second Limit."

Boom!

The second limit broke. His aura surged wildly and his body force climbed to a new height. The sword strike still landed, but this time Rakan met it with both palms pressed together and caught the descending blade between them.

Blood spilled from his hands, yet he forced the sword aside and drove his knee toward Damian's abdomen.

Damian stepped back, though not entirely, and the knee passed within inches of him. Rakan pressed forward immediately.

"War God Fist, Battlefield Tyrant."

His whole body lunged behind the punch. This was no longer merely a fist technique. It was his full body weight, his second-limit War God Body, and the fury of a battle-crazed warlord compressed into one unstoppable blow.

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"Sword Guard, White Horizon."

A broad silver-white arc opened in front of him.

Boom!

The Battlefield Tyrant crashed into the White Horizon. The sword guard trembled violently, and the stage beneath Damian's feet cracked under the pressure. For a moment, it looked as though Rakan might truly blast through on brute force alone.

Then Damian's right hand shifted. The White Horizon guard folded inward and became a slanted current.

"White Horizon, Turning Edge."

Rakan's force was redirected to the side. His punch tore apart an entire section of the stage instead of Damian's body, and before he could correct his posture, Damian's sword slashed twice across his torso.

Blood sprayed, and the War God Palace disciples fell silent for a moment.

Rakan's breathing grew heavier, but he refused to retreat. Instead, he laughed.

"Good. Very good."

His body released a terrifying red-gold battle aura.

"War God Body, Third Limit."

The instant the third limit broke, the entire arena trembled. This was the true peak of Rakan's physical body. His muscles tightened like tempered divine metal, and veins of battle-red force ran across his skin.

The surrounding air seemed unable to bear the pressure radiating from his flesh. Compared to his first and second limits, the third was a complete leap, and it was the level that had earned him the title of first Warlord of the War God Palace.

Rakan bent slightly at the knees. Then he vanished.

The crowd gasped as he reappeared before Damian like a red-gold cannonball.

"War God Fist, Worldsplitter."

The punch exploded forward, and Damian blocked.

Clang!

For the first time, Damian was driven back several full steps. Before he could steady himself, Rakan was already on him again.

"War God Fist, Nine Battlefield Tremors."

Nine consecutive punches descended like falling war drums, and each strike landed heavier than the one before it.

Damian's sword moved in a storm of silver-white brilliance as he blocked and redirected them one after another, yet even so, the pressure bearing down on him climbed sharply. On the ninth strike, the air burst apart and Damian slid backward across the stage.

The War God Palace erupted in cheers.

"That is it!"

"Senior Brother Rakan!"

"Crush him!"

Rakan lifted his chin with blood running from the cuts across his body, and his battle aura soared like wildfire.

"This is the body of the War God Palace," he said. "Can your sword cut through it?"

Damian looked at him quietly, and then he raised his sword again.

"It already has."

The words were calm, but in the next instant, his aura changed. The sky above the stage seemed to sharpen. The sword in his hand grew brighter, purer, and colder than before. The surrounding sword intent did not explode wildly.

It condensed instead, until it felt as though every strand of sharpness in the world had gathered around Damian's blade.

Max watched carefully, and he understood at once that Damian had stopped merely fighting. Now he was beginning to cut in earnest.

Damian took one step forward.

"Sword Path, Seven Line Clear Severance."

One slash came, and then another, and then a third. He did not attack with overwhelming visual force. He attacked with terrifying precision.

Each sword line cut into the exact flow of Rakan's body force, landing where his joints transferred power, where his muscles chained explosive force together, and where the rhythm of his War God Body surged between its limits.

Rakan met him head-on. He punched through the first line, broke the second with his elbow, and destroyed the third with a downward smash. But the fourth line cut across his thigh while the fifth slashed his shoulder.

The sixth severed the rhythm of his next forward charge, and the seventh landed across his chest and drew a deep line of blood.

Rakan staggered, though only once. Then he roared and gathered everything he had into a final charge.

"War God Body, Three Limits Unified."

His red-gold battle aura compressed fully around him.

"War God Palace Secret Art, Tyrant Heaven Shatter."

This was Rakan's strongest attack, and it was far more than a fist or a burst of body force. It was the complete union of his three broken limits, his battle will, and the entire ferocity of the War God Palace's body-cultivating path.

When he launched the punch, it felt as though a whole battlefield of war spirits charged behind it.

The Divine Realm held its breath, and even the top geniuses on the pillars watched without blinking.

Damian looked at the incoming Tyrant Heaven Shatter, and at last his sword path truly rose.

"Pseudo Cosmic Path."

A vast sword heaven appeared behind him. Countless ancient swords floated in silence above a silver-white firmament, and at the very center stood one enormous sword shadow that seemed to rule over all the rest.

Unlike loud and crushing domains, Damian's Pseudo Cosmic Path was frightening because of its purity. It carried no waste, no unnecessary flourish, and no unstable violence.

It was the kind of path that sent an instinctive chill through every swordsman watching, because it looked like a path created for the sole purpose of proving that the sword stood above all.