It was a kind of combat power derived from spiritual perception. At their level, their minds—or rather, their souls—had already transcended the realm of ordinary humans and drawn closer to that of gods.
So this feeling was absolutely not a mere illusion. Their opponent's attack truly possessed the power to threaten them.
Realizing this, the presence hidden within the fourth mass of shadow could finally no longer remain silent.
He could not wait.
He could not wait for the rotation of those Photoids to reach some unknown critical point.
There was no sound, no incantation, not even any unnecessary movement.
A violent wind surged into existence from nowhere, yet it was invisible and intangible.
It did not stir a corner of clothing or raise a speck of dust.
Because this wind was not the movement of air. It had been born in the deepest reaches of the spiritual world—the breath of a dragon of the mind, a dragon's calamity capable of completely erasing the boundary between reality and illusion.
The storm targeted Edwin's thoughts, his soul, the underlying logic that formed his very existence.
"Scatter!"
Having sensed the attack, even the white-haired man with the greatsword shouted in a distorted voice.
Every muscle beneath his bronze skin stiffened as though cement had been poured into it.
He pushed off the ground and shot backward, while raising that door-sized greatsword across his front.
The demigod clad in pitch-black full-body armor had the liquid darkness over his body churn violently, forming layer upon layer of shadow barriers.
Around the demigod in classical knight armor, the air warped from intense heat, and crimson flames condensed into a heavy greatshield covered in flowing lava patterns.
They feared their companion's killing move even more than Edwin's attacks.
Because attacks targeting the mind had always been