Unless they possessed a monstrous physique, ordinary swordsmen simply could not bear it.
"Interesting."
Looking at the black aura coiling around the blade, Rossi instead took a step forward.
The man in black slashed repeatedly, weaving a dense net of flashing steel. Each swing thickened the black aura until it was almost solid.
The hall kept collapsing under the cuts.
Debris flew, and dust filled the air.
Rossi darted through the gaps between the slashes, his steps shifting left and right, each movement narrowly avoiding the deadliest trajectory.
His gaze remained fixed on the sword.
The coiling black aura suddenly surged, transforming into a distorted, enormous blade that cleaved down toward his head.
This time, Rossi did not dodge.
He raised a hand, palm upward, as though he intended to catch the blow barehanded.
The man in black curled his lips into a sneer.
But a second later, his expression froze.
Just before touching the blade, Rossi flicked his hand sideways.
There was no direct clash, only a gentle deflection.
The enormous black blade veered off course at once, grazing Rossi's shoulder before cleaving into the floor and blasting open a deep crater.
Meanwhile, Rossi's other hand was already reaching for the man's sword wrist.
The man retreated sharply, bringing his blade back to guard himself.
But Rossi followed him like a shadow, his fingertips remaining barely an inch from the man's wrist.
The two moved at high speed through the ruined hall, the remaining pillars and walls cracking apart wherever they passed.
Finally, the instant one slash reached the end of its momentum, Rossi's fingers clamped onto the man's wrist.
He applied little force, but pressed precisely where the tendons intersected.
The man in black's entire arm went numb, and his fingers involuntarily loosened.
The long sword left his