MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 961: Martial Rhythm

A knowing smile curved Anthony's lips as he heard Kingsley's reply, emerging gradually like he'd long foreseen that very statement before it even left the mouth. He'd anticipated it, naturally, since he realized Kingsley regarded him somewhat as a brother—they were both outliers, beings defying the world's logic, forging routes no one else could grasp or trail.

Kingsley may have been the elder by years, but Anthony had no intention of acting the junior in any regard, whether power, aura, or even mindset; age wouldn't matter, he'd claim the senior role, especially as he surpassed Kingsley in might, and in their domain, raw strength settled those petty pecking orders.

"With that as your response, let's start working," Anthony declared, his smile lingering steadily, relaxed and unforced, as if the upcoming event was routine instead of remarkable.

As soon as Anthony uttered those lines, everyone's senses sharpened right away, the nearby murmurs fading in a flash while excitement ignited rapidly. Though Lucian and Aura Nova had chatted through their clash until Lucian abruptly split Aura Nova in two to close it, this round everyone planned to absorb every word closely, refusing to skip a beat—even Klaus and Amara, who usually held a vibe of aloof arrogance, locked in their focus without a hint of wandering.

This was Anthony, after all, and beyond Klaus and Amara, he stood undisputed as the mightiest among them, a truth no one would challenge even in their thoughts. Any wisdom he shared for Kingsley's growth could guide their own journeys in life and cultivation, maybe revealing overlooked truths. Plus, curiosity burned deeper; Kingsley had spent his entire existence shunning every kind of energy, bucking the cosmos's basic rules, so what could Anthony—master of all energies at insane levels—impart to someone like him.

They appeared as clashing extremes that logic said should push apart, yet in this instant, they stood ready to draw together against all odds.

Anthony lifted his right hand, and abruptly, a translucent shimmer wrapped his palm, subtle but undeniable, resembling clear light that twisted the nearby atmosphere. Lacking any hue or form to pin down precisely, it remained visible to all, and crucially, detectable, their gut feelings yelling that this was a power utterly alien to the usual sorts.

Anthony's mouth opened as he started explaining, "This is known as the Martial Rhythm," his voice emerged deep and even, composed but loaded with an odd gravity, "much like Sword Intent ties to the sword and Spear Intent links to the spear, the Martial Rhythm connects to martial arts," Anthony added, then lifted his left hand.

His left palm summoned another force, keener and more recognizable, thick and overbearing. "This is the Martial Intent, though as you're aware, your unique build blocks you from wielding it," he halted briefly, as if confirming Kingsley tracked every detail, his gaze scanning for the tiniest flicker.

Kingsley paid close heed without glancing away, his golden gaze darting from the Martial Intent to the Martial Rhythm like sizing up two alien realms. Yet confusion stirred too, a light furrow creasing his forehead; he couldn't handle any energy type, so why display the Martial Rhythm like it was within reach.

"The Martial Rhythm is a vanished art, or more accurately, something beyond anyone's grasp," Anthony went on, his voice gaining a touch of gravity, "because wielding the Martial Rhythm demands stripping away all energy and avoiding it forever. That's why you or anyone remains unaware of it. Everyone syncs with mana, aura, or the like, and moreover, no one at this Galaxy tier or the one above possesses or comprehends it, fueling its hidden and enigmatic aura," Anthony stopped, his eyes flicking to Kingsley like prompting any queries, quietly spurring interest.

Catching the cue, Kingsley voiced his thought, "Since you grasp my unique build already, it follows the Martial Rhythm isn't an energy—what exactly is it?" he inquired, his tone even but tinged with real intrigue.

Anthony dipped his head at the query as if he'd awaited it, though he'd intended to cover it regardless of the ask, "While I'd enjoy diving deeper, I won't to avoid needless tangles. But picture the Martial Rhythm as a current, or a principle, similar to your Concept of Destruction," he clarified evenly, picking terms with precision.

Kingsley bobbed his head, absorbing the words, then opened his mouth once more, "If the Martial Rhythm stays unknown due to needing to shun all energy forms to harness it," he held for a second before pressing on, "then how can you wield it?" he questioned.

A smile lit Anthony's face at Kingsley's remark, then he answered promptly, "Because I am Null Anthony," his delivery plain and straightforward, like voicing a plain fact instead of something wildly implausible.

Kingsley shook his head in mild exasperation, a soft breath escaping, unsure what he'd hoped from Anthony, but he conceded the point—only Anthony could deliver such a reply with total assurance and twist it into seeming reasonable.

Anthony had encountered the Martial Rhythm solely through his Primordial Bloodline and Beginning Of All Things Physique, which fed him shards of old lore and gut-level insights into endless lost ways. The Martial Rhythm was just one such buried legacy, a skill that had bloomed inside him organically, like it was always his by right.

Anthony grinned lightly, then pressed forward, "Under normal circumstances, a person like you would stir the Martial Rhythm on their own in a few years ahead, but here and now, I can spark it for you," his voice light, like proposing something minor.

"How?" Kingsley queried as usual, blunt and to the point, his eyes sparking with intense resolve, for who wouldn't crave a boost, and from Anthony's description of the Martial Rhythm, he grasped that his power would soar to fresh heights once this hit—or even with basic command over it.

Meanwhile, he sensed Anthony was only brushing the edges of the Martial Rhythm, not plunging into its depths, but Kingsley shrugged it off. Ignite it first, probe later—that suited his approach now, straightforward and effective.

"The method is straightforward: I'll strike you using Martial Rhythm, overwhelming your frame with it until your body compels it to awaken," Anthony announced while the Martial Intent in his left hand morphed to Martial Rhythm, both palms now pulsing that eerie, achromatic aura, "this approach wouldn't succeed for others no matter what, but you're exceptional, Kingsley, so I'm confident it will. The last piece is if you're ready to bear the agony for it," Anthony concluded firmly, his stare piercing.

Kingsley dropped into a fighting pose right away, no second thoughts, his stance rooting solidly to the ground, breaths even and measured. Agony meant little to him, temporary and worthless; he could recover fully from any wound. Hurt and damage were just minor costs for strength, and if torment was the fee to advance his road, he'd take it gladly without a word.