He was learning their tactics. Adapting not just to their abilities but to their coordination, their timing, their patterns of attack.

Cassius could feel it too. His vampire instincts were screaming warnings. Every exchange, every clash, was teaching The Reaper more about how they fought. Soon he'd be able to predict their movements before they made them.

"My Lord," Cassius said urgently as they circled for another engagement. "His wounds aren't regenerating, but he's adapting to our attack patterns. We need to change tactics before—"

The Reaper moved.

Not attacking—analyzing. His eyes tracked Satou's footwork, Cassius's positioning, the way they coordinated without speaking. Then his smile returned, wider than before.

"I've got it now," The Reaper said. "Your pattern. Satou attacks with that reality-cutting sword, forcing me to defend seriously. Cassius exploits my defensive postures to strike from angles I can't easily block. When I counterattack, you both scatter using mobility skills, then immediately re-engage from different positions. It's a hit-and-run pattern designed to prevent me from adapting to any single fighting style."

He cracked his knuckles. "Clever. Against most opponents, that would work perfectly. But I've now adapted to hit-and-run tactics. I've fought teams using similar strategies before. Let me show you what happens when I counter your coordination itself."

Satou and Cassius exchanged glances. Without words, they both understood—they needed to attack now, before The Reaper finished adapting to their teamwork.

They moved simultaneously, approaching from opposite sides. Satou unleashed a combination attack—Void Fang for high, dragonfire claws for low, forcing The Reaper to choose which to defend against. Cassius attacked from behind, blood magic forming a cage designed to restrict movement.

The Reaper didn't defend.

He moved into Satou's attack.

Into it.

His sword met Void Fang, but instead of blocking, he deflected—using the blade's momentum to spin his entire body. The spin carried him out of Satou's follow-up claw strike, through Cassius's blood cage like it wasn't there, and into a position where both attackers were momentarily on the same side of him.

For just a fraction of a second, Satou and Cassius were aligned. No longer attacking from multiple angles, but briefly positioned where The Reaper could target both with one attack.

That was all he needed.

The Reaper's free hand came up, and golden energy erupted from his palm—not a single beam, but a cone of destruction that caught both Satou and Cassius simultaneously.

Divine Purge: Area Denial

The energy was overwhelming. Holy magic enhanced by three hundred years of accumulated power, fired at point-blank range, impossible to dodge.

Satou's Void Body reduced the damage significantly—his partial existence outside reality making him harder to affect. But it still hurt, burning against his scales, forcing him back.

Cassius had no such protection. As a vampire, holy magic was his natural weakness. The energy slammed into him with devastating force, burning away his physical form, forcing him to dissolve into mist just to survive.

Both of them were sent flying, their coordination broken, their attack pattern disrupted.

But The Reaper wasn't done. He noticed something during that exchange—noticed how Void Fang's wounds still weren't healing, how they actively resisted his regeneration. Five wounds now, shallow but accumulating. And unlike every other injury he'd received in three hundred years, these wounds actually mattered.

That sword was dangerous. Really dangerous. If it landed a solid hit—if it struck something vital—even his adaptation might not be fast enough to prevent serious damage.

For the first time in centuries, The Reaper felt something he'd almost forgotten.

Caution.

"Interesting," he muttered, instinctively taking three steps backward, creating distance. "Very interesting. That sword isn't just cutting reality—it's erasing the concept of healing from the cuts it makes. I'm adapting, but slowly. Much slower than usual."

His analytical mind was already working through the implications. Void Fang was a counter to his Absolute Adaptation—not a perfect counter, but enough of one that prolonged exposure could be dangerous.

Which meant he needed to get serious. Really serious.

Satou recovered quickly, his Abyssal Regeneration already closing the burns from the holy magic. Cassius reformed from mist nearby, his body smoking slightly but functional.

"My Lord," Cassius gasped, his usual composure shaken. "He's adapting to our coordination. That last attack—he deliberately maneuvered us into alignment so he could hit both of us at once. He's not just adapting to our abilities anymore. He's adapting to our teamwork itself."

"I noticed," Satou replied grimly, his eyes never leaving The Reaper.

Both of them could sense it—The Reaper was preparing something. His aura was shifting, changing, becoming more concentrated. The casual, bored demeanor was gone, replaced by something calculating and dangerous.

Then they saw it.

The Reaper's body began to change. His skin took on a reddish hue, not from blood but from the sheer concentration of power radiating from within. His muscles became more defined, his movements more aggressive. His eyes, previously calm and analytical, now blazed with an intensity that matched the energy pouring off him.

This was different from his First Seal release. That had been about removing limiters on his power output. This was something else—something primal.

"Battle Adaptation: Berserker Mode," The Reaper said, his voice carrying an edge it hadn't had before. "Most of the time, I fight analytically. Carefully. Adapting through observation and calculation. But when I'm facing opponents who can actually hurt me, I have another mode. One where my body adapts through pure instinct and aggression."

His aura exploded, red energy mixing with the golden light of his released seal. The ground beneath him cracked from the sheer pressure.

"Sorry," The Reaper continued, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "But that sword of yours is too dangerous to play around with. If I give you too many openings, you might actually kill me. Can't have that. So I'm going to get serious now."

Without warning, without telegraph, he moved.

Cassius didn't even see him coming. One instant The Reaper was twenty feet away, the next he was right there, his fist already in motion. The vampire tried to dodge, tried to dissolve into mist, but The Reaper's fist caught him in the chest before he could complete the transformation.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.