The moment those words left his lips, the air around him grew immensely heavy and chaotic. The atmosphere itself seemed to buckle under an unseen pressure. The very next instant, Valentine's lips parted as he spoke, his voice calm, cold, and resolute.

Shadow Art: Bane Form

In the same breath, Astra energy surged violently through his Astra veins, erupting outward and towering into the sky like a colossal pillar of night. For a fleeting moment, it dominated the sky, then it collapsed back into him in the very next split second. Shadows and darkness rose in response, coiling around his body in an eerie, almost ritualistic manner. They slithered across his form as though something ancient and monstrous was being born, something long restrained finally clawing its way into existence.

Any common person would have attempted to interrupt such a transformation before it could fully manifest. But Azaron did not move. He had no reason to. He was here to have fun, why rush to end it now? He had barely used any true form of attack aside from raw physical strength. If Valentine could push him far enough to force him to use his Nebula affinity for what it truly was, then that outcome alone would be worth it.

Two seconds passed.

Then the transformation ended.

At that moment, the cloak that once wrapped around Valentine was gone. It was as though whatever now stood before Azaron could no longer be classified as human. Even the short blades Valentine had wielded earlier were nowhere to be seen. His body was now pitch black, unnaturally slender yet coiled with lethal power. Elongated claws extended from each finger, sharp and predatory. From his forehead rose two black horns, stretching skyward like jagged obsidian spires. His mouth had warped into a monstrous maw, jagged teeth extending both upward and downward in a terrifying display.

From his back unfurled two pairs of black wings, vast and ominous, as though capable of flapping through time itself. Behind him, a black tail swirled slowly, slicing through the air with quiet menace.

Valentine now stood as an entirely different embodiment of existence. He looked anything but human. His form was so completely pitch black that any light reaching him was instantly devoured, swallowed whole without reflection or mercy.

Azaron did not react to the transformation. He simply grinned. He could tell immediately that Valentine's combat power in this state far surpassed his previous condition, greater than his base form, stronger than when he relied solely on Astra augmentation, and even more dangerous than when he stacked techniques. Right now, Valentine stood at the absolute peak of his craft and power.

Even so, Azaron did not enter any form of martial stance. He merely stood there with his spear in hand, relaxed yet ever-ready, his posture betraying neither tension nor urgency.

Valentine did not speak.

He moved.

His hands rose slowly, deliberately. The elongated claws glittered with madness beneath the sun's rays as darkness and shadow coiled and twisted around them. Then, with a speed faster than thought, faster than light itself, he slashed across the air. His hands became blurs, his claws tearing through the very fabric of reality as though it were no more substantial than cloth.

In the next instant, thousands of claw-shaped shadow attacks erupted outward, each one imbued with ominous, ill-fated, flesh-rending force. The attack screamed across the battlefield, tearing through it like a knife through paper as it surged relentlessly toward Azaron.

Azaron's knees dipped slightly, his muscles coiling as he drew upon raw strength and speed from deep within his body. That familiar grin remained plastered across his face as he vanished, shooting toward the incoming barrage like an arrow loosed from a god's bow.

Dodge? Why would he?

Ender spun effortlessly in his grip as he met every shadow claw head-on. His body flickered across the battlefield in rapid succession as he thrust Ender into each attack. Whenever one closed in too tightly, he repositioned instantly, annihilating it with a sweeping swing of his spear. He became a phantom of motion, chasing down and destroying every single shadow strike.

Within a single second, thousands of those attacks shattered into nothingness, rendered utterly useless and futile.

But Azaron barely had time to breathe, let alone savor the moment, before Valentine was already beside him.

Valentine's claws tore toward Azaron's breastplate, the air screaming and shrieking in real time as it was shredded apart by the sheer force of the strike. Azaron reacted immediately. Ender blurred forward, its shaft intercepting the attack just in time.

But Valentine was far from finished.

His second hand slashed toward Azaron's head, intent on tearing it apart completely. Azaron's figure dropped instantly, his body tearing downward as he squatted low and narrowly dodged the lethal blow. He didn't waste the opening. His leg blurred forward like a striking viper, rocketing toward Valentine's Achilles heel.

Valentine's wings flapped once. His speed peaked instantly as he leapt over the attack with ridiculous ease, defying gravity and expectation alike.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, an exchange filled with challenge, excitement, and murderous intent, before both of them vanished once more.

This time, however, the power behind their attacks skyrocketed.

The world itself seemed to burst apart with every motion they made. Attacks followed attacks in relentless succession, each clash unleashing catastrophic force upon the surroundings.

Valentine grew stronger with every exchange. His strength rose steadily as he moved, his speed soaring to terrifying heights with each powerful flap of his wings. Yet Azaron welcomed it all with open exhilaration. His muscles continued to coil tighter and tighter as he drew forth even more raw power from his body, his strength and speed rising to meet Valentine's, without the use of any enhancement whatsoever.

With another irredeemable clash, the world was drowned in blackness and gold. Pressure increased exponentially. Tremors tore violently through the earth as space itself shattered like fragile glass. Stones exploded apart as ravines and chasms formed in rapid succession across the battlefield.

Valentine's hand balled into a fist and tore forward with the wrath of a god. Azaron merely shifted Ender aside and replied with his own fist. With an apocalyptic, cataclysmic crescendo, the world was engulfed in sundering madness as the two fists collided midair.

At that moment, both of them transitioned fully from weapon combat to hand-to-hand combat. Every part of their bodies became lethal weapons. Hands and legs shot toward each other at blistering speed, each strike carrying devastating intent. Just because they were weapon specialists did not mean they were any less proficient with their own bodies.

Ender hummed from the side in utter jealousy as Azaron temporarily ceased using him, but Azaron neither heard nor cared. His focus was entirely consumed by the ferocious exchange unfolding before him.

Hands. Legs..Heads. Knees. Palms. Elbows.

Every movement became a weapon, every strike a potential killing blow.

They blurred out of the forest and into another, leaving devastation in their wake. Azaron's fist tore toward Valentine's chin, but Valentine shifted his body with ridiculous ease, dodging the attack as though he could see the future itself. Yet he didn't stop at evasion. He retaliated instantly, his elbow snapping toward Azaron's temple with lethal precision.

Azaron's right hand blurred, intercepting the blow effortlessly as he blocked the attack with deft, practiced ease, his grin widening as the battle escalated even further.

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