Desperate Blade Light

The night was as black as ink, so thick it seemed capable of drowning anyone caught in it. Fog spread everywhere like a heavy veil, swallowing the entire scene before the valley entrance. Rolling black shadows appeared and vanished within the mist, while broken sparks occasionally flashed through the darkness, brief and brilliant as meteors in the night sky.

A pungent acidic stench filled the air—the smell of blood mixed with mud, so foul it made one want to vomit. Every breath felt like swallowing a knife, the throat and lungs seared by the overpowering odor.

Amid the chaos, a gigantic figure stood in the center of the breach. Its back armor was covered in sharp spines that rose high, as if symbolizing its fury and majesty. Its eyes glowed a dark green in the night, like two burning ghost flames, radiating endless savagery and murderous intent.

The giant shadow roared, its voice echoing through the valley like thunder and making eardrums ache. It raised its forelimb and slammed it down, as if the entire earth trembled beneath the blow. The ground shook violently, sending gravel and mud flying like rain against the broken stakes and collapsed barricades with a series of dull thuds.

Yet before that terrifying power, one figure stood as firm as steel, showing no intention of retreating. He gripped a long blade that gleamed with cold light. As the giant shadow attacked, the blade flashed, as if answering the power of its opponent.

Amid the violent tremors, tremendous pressure weighed on his arms, leaving them numb. Yet his hands clamped around the hilt like iron pincers, showing not the slightest sign of loosening. His gaze burned as he watched every movement of the giant shadow, missing no opening.

Just as the giant shadow's attack was about