Theo’s figure had become a mere blur, moving so quickly that it was nearly impossible to discern his form. His lungs burned, each breath straining against the pressure in his chest, but despite it all, a sense of exhilaration coursed through him.

Neck, abdomen, thigh.

A rapid sequence of three strikes.

His attacks came so fast that it seemed as if all three blows were delivered simultaneously. From the Second Apostle’s front, Theo’s relentless flurry of strikes was like a storm of death.

The thunderous resonance of the Triple Core reverberated in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the battlefield. Even though the Apostle seemed to be shouting curses at him, not a word was audible amidst the chaos.