Absolute Cheater

Each blow landed like a meteor, sending shockwaves through Asher's body. He coughed up blood as he was forced on the defensive, dodging where he could, blocking where he had no choice. His instincts screamed at him—this was an opponent far beyond anything he had ever faced before.

But Asher wasn't done yet.

With a defiant grin, he activated [Phantom Veil], his illusionary ability. His body flickered, his form splitting into afterimages as he moved unpredictably. For a brief moment, the War God's attacks missed, his blows phasing through empty air. Seizing the opportunity, Asher lunged forward, his hands coated in the crimson glow of [Blood Requiem].

He struck.

A direct hit to the War God's chest.

The explosion of sanguine energy engulfed the arena, sending debris flying in all directions. The sheer impact cracked the ground beneath them. But before Asher could celebrate, a powerful hand emerged from the smoke, gripping his throat like an iron vice.

The War God hadn't even been scratched.

With a flick of his wrist, he hurled Asher across the arena. The younger warrior crashed into the stone wall, the force enough to leave a crater where he landed. He coughed, pain lancing through his body. But instead of despair, he felt exhilaration.

This was a real fight.

Slowly, he stood, wiping the blood from his lips. His Sanguine Reaper form flickered, but he forced it to stabilize. He couldn't afford to lose control now. If he wanted to win, he had to go beyond his limits.

The War God watched him, his expression unreadable. "Are you done? Or do you have more to show me?"

Asher grinned, his crimson eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "Oh, I'm just getting started."

He raised his hand, and suddenly, the entire atmosphere shifted. A deep, foreboding energy surged through the air as a new ability activated.

[Eternal Creation: Blood Monarch's Wrath].

A crimson aura burst from his body, forming a massive pair of spectral wings. His presence became suffocating, the sheer force of his unleashed power distorting the space around him. The War God's eyes narrowed in interest.

"Now this," the old man murmured, "is worth fighting."

Asher vanished.

He reappeared behind the War God, his clawed hands coated in a new energy—[Sanguine Monarch's Claws]. He slashed down with unparalleled force. The War God turned, barely blocking in time. The impact sent him skidding backward for the first time since the battle began.

Asher didn't relent. He pressed forward, his attacks coming faster and stronger. The entire battlefield became a blur of red and gold as the two clashed. Each strike shattered the ground beneath them, each blow sending ripples of energy into the void.

The War God's counterattacks were relentless. He switched tactics, summoning a spectral warhammer formed of divine energy. With one swing, he sent Asher flying, but before the younger warrior could crash into the ground, he twisted midair, using his wings to stabilize himself.

With a mighty roar, he summoned a storm of crimson spears—[Bloodstorm Execution]. The sky darkened as thousands of spears rained down, each one infused with Asher's overwhelming power. The War God's expression hardened. He clenched his fist, and golden energy burst from his body.

"[Divine War Arts: Shield of Ares]."

A massive golden barrier formed around him, blocking the incoming assault. The two forces clashed, the resulting explosion shaking the entire dimension. The sheer impact of their battle began distorting reality itself.

Minutes stretched into hours.

Neither side relented. Each exchanged hundreds, if not thousands, of blows. Asher's body ached, but his excitement only grew. He was learning, adapting, evolving with each passing second. His abilities sharpened, his reactions quickened, his attacks refined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, both fighters stood opposite each other once more. Blood dripped from Asher's lips, his body bruised and battered. The War God, too, showed signs of fatigue—his once pristine robes tattered, his breathing heavier than before.

Asher exhaled, his vision slightly blurry. But his grin never faded.

"That… was the best fight I've ever had," he admitted.

The War God chuckled, nodding. "You have done well. Better than I expected."

The arena began to fade. The trial was over.

"You are worthy," the War God's projection said. "Continue walking this path, and one day, you may surpass even me."

Asher smirked. "That's the plan."

With those final words, the battlefield disappeared in a flash of golden light, and Asher found himself standing at the exit of the coliseum—with a book in his hands that read War God: Art of Annihilatory Fists.

Asher looked at the book and mumbled, "So there are more…" He nodded, processing the information he had gained. The War God, like many others, had built his trial grounds all over the world, and whoever conquered them would earn the chance to obtain one technique from him—just like how Asher had gained this one.

Asher flipped through the pages of the ancient tome, his eyes scanning the intricate diagrams and detailed explanations of the War God's Annihilatory Fists. The text was written in a complex script, but thanks to his heightened perception, he quickly deciphered it.

"This technique is brutal," he thought, excitement flashing in his eyes. "It doesn't just destroy the opponent—it erases them entirely, leaving no trace. No wonder it's called Annihilatory Fists."

The sheer destructive force described in the book made even him shudder slightly. The technique focused on channeling raw physical force into every strike, compressing the energy into devastating bursts that could obliterate anything in its path.

As he absorbed the knowledge, Asher felt the familiar rush of enlightenment that came whenever he acquired a new ability. His body instinctively responded, his muscles tensing, his mana shifting, and his very core adapting to the newfound power.

He clenched his fists. Let's test this out.

Looking around, he realized he was no longer in the coliseum but in an open field, likely a result of the trial's completion. Without hesitation, he took a deep breath, planting his feet firmly on the ground.