At last, in that decisive exchange of punches, Arora's fist collided violently with King of Reincarnation's iron fist. In that instant, the air seemed to freeze, and even time appeared to come to a halt.
Arora's eyes flashed with unyielding light, a defiance against fate and a challenge to tyranny.
Yet, despite giving it her all and even pushing her power to its limit, everything seemed so insignificant before King of Reincarnation's mountain-like steadiness and terrifying strength.
King of Reincarnation's fist was covered in an indescribable metallic sheen, as though every inch of skin had been tempered countless times, impossibly hard.
When the two forces collided, Arora's fist seemed to encounter the fiercest of storms. It instantly collapsed into specks of light, a sign that the energy within her had lost control and scattered away. Like the brightest meteor in the night sky, it vanished into endless darkness in an instant.
Fragments of energy flashed in the air like unwilling tears before finally dissipating into the Void, leaving behind silence. Arora's hands—the hands that had gripped hope and courage countless times—had now become the deepest pain in her heart.
Bone and flesh were mixed together in a horrifying sight, as though nature itself were punishing one who had challenged too far, reminding everyone who witnessed it of the limits and price of power.
Although physics held that forces acted mutually, before an absolute disparity in strength, that principle no longer seemed so absolute.
King of Reincarnation's body was like it had been carved from immortal stone. Though he had also endured the recoil, only several hair-thin cracks appeared on the arm. To him, they barely even counted as superficial wounds.
A cold sneer curled at the corner of his mouth, filled with contempt for victory and disdain for his challenger.