A divine artifact?
Ethan's gaze was drawn to the Dragonblade.
The blade was about one and a half ters long and two fingers wide, exuding an aura of a deep black color, reminiscent of a star-devouring night sky.
Intricate patterns, resembling winding dragon veins, adorned the blade, emanating a mysterious aura.
The hilt was crafted from a rare type of purple gold, a material Ethan couldn't identify.
But just from the shimring light and aura it emitted, he could tell this purple gold was extraordinarily precious, likely a godly material.
Engraved on the hilt was a coiling dragon, lifelike as if it could ascend from the hilt at any mont.
The blade was incredibly sharp, slicing through the air with a piercing whistle.
A faint red glow covered the blade's surface, likely a result of special forging techniques that allowed it to generate a powerful airflow when swung.
This flow, like a red dragon, coiled around the blade, an awe-inspiring sight.
Two dazzling gems were embedded in the dragon's eyes, sparkling brilliantly, as if the dragon's eyes were opening.
Additionally, a piece of mysterious dragon bone was embedded in the blade, radiating a powerful presence.
Even from a distance, Ethan could feel the intense dragon aura, as if a divine dragon roared beside his ear.
Ethan's facial muscles twitched slightly; he hadn't expected a re trialist of the god to wield a divine artifact.
Yet, it made sense – with the Lord of Wraith's discerning eye, a trialist of the god was bound to be extraordinary.
Ethan was no less formidable, drawing his Blasphemous Spear: "You have a divine artifact, don't I have one too?"
The clash of their divine artifacts sent shockwaves through the space, a clash of titans.
The energy waves struck the dark golden barriers surrounding them, causing ripples to spread across the barriers.
Their divine artifacts resonated and stuck together, drawing energy from both combatants in a standoff.
Around them, waves of energy ford - one red, one gold - clashing violently on the dark golden arena.
Their gazes t, like two bolts of lightning tearing through the night sky.
Fernard's eyes were sharp as blades, exuding a cold murderous intent; Ethan's gaze, on the other hand, was like a raging storm, filled with boundless fighting spirit.
At that mont, the corner of Fernard's mouth cracked into a slight grin, and he murmured, "It seems you are not as weak as I had imagined!"
No sooner had he spoken than he pulled back the Dragonblade and swung it down in a half-circle through the air, directing a fierce slash towards Ethan.
Ethan's eyes glowed coldly, his Blasphemous Spear swirling to parry once again.
After a brief period of testing each other, the two began to grapple closely.
Fernard moved with agile grace, his Dragonblade adding an extra ferocity to his strikes, each swing stirring up a gust of wind.
His blade technique was sharp and ruthless, each move filled with lethal intent.
Ethan, however, was not to be outdone.
Each thrust of his Blasphemous Spear carried astonishing power.
His spear technique was precise and unpredictable, leaving no room for defense.
Thus, they engaged in close combat for three hundred rounds, a blur of blade and spear, neither able to gain the upper hand.
But only Ethan and Fernard knew the abundance of nuances in their fight; even a slight misstep could an death.
As if by unspoken agreent, they both pulled back, hovering in the void.
Fernard's chest heaved dramatically, his eyes filled with shock.
His wealth of combat experience stemd from an opportunity he had acquired in the outside world—the Battle Roulette.
This chanism simulated various powerful opponents for him to continuously fight and learn from.
Although Fernard seed to live a carefree and exhilarating life in Sourcewater City, in reality, he had been imrsed in the Battle Roulette, gaining a vast array of combat experiences.
He was well-versed in real battles and bloodshed.
Fernard was certain Ethan did not have access to sothing like the Battle Roulette, which was akin to a divine artifact, though not quite one.
Yet, the depth of Ethan's combat experience appeared to Fernard as both exaggerated and preposterous.
Each move Ethan made was laden with seasoned expertise, and he even intentionally exposed flaws to trap Fernard.
Anyone less experienced than Fernard would have been impaled by Ethan's spear long ago.
Since Ethan didn't have the Battle Roulette, it ant his experience was garnered through real, bloody battles.
This opponent was formidable.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Fernard's eyes as he inwardly wavered.
These kinds of opponents were often madn, not stopping until blood was shed.
"Should I just give up? It's not worth losing my life here," he thought, an idea unexpectedly surfacing in his mind.
This was the downside of the Battle Roulette: the experience it provided, though extensive, was simulated.
Without having truly witnessed blood and fire, one's body lacked the unwavering courage and tenacity for real battle.
anwhile, Ethan was also analyzing Fernard's strength.
He had thought he had given enough credit to Fernard's abilities, but after engaging, he realized he had slightly underestimated Fernard's prowess.
Ethan felt that Fernard was the strongest opponent he had encountered among his peers. During their battle, he had actually employed many subtle tactics.
For instance, he tried to influence Fernard with the Power of Soul, but Fernard's soul was so resilient that it remained unaffected by any negative influences.
Moreover, Fernard's combat instincts were so keen that they made Ethan feel anxious.
Fernard, relying on re sight, could predict Ethan's next move.
Their duel was intense; in fact, Ethan found himself at a disadvantage from the first round.
Ethan and Fernard stood facing each other, their auras overwhelming.
Their murderous intents intertwined as they simultaneously sprang into action.
With a swift movent, Fernard disappeared from his spot, leaving only an afterimage.
In the next instant, he appeared behind Ethan, his Dragonblade slicing through the air with fierce energy.
Ethan, as if anticipating this, smoothly dodged the strike.
He imdiately counterattacked, thrusting his spear towards Fernard's chest.
Fernard, realizing his attack had failed and Ethan's counter was swift, quickly retracted the Dragonblade to block the spear.
The two combatants engaged in a ferocious back-and-forth, each move a potential lethal strike.
Fernard's swordsmanship was like a tempestuous storm, constantly changing and dazzling to watch.
Ethan's spear technique, on the other hand, resembled a dragon weaving through the air – agile and unpredictable, sending shivers down one's spine.
As the fight progressed, their speed increased, their figures interweaving and separating on the dark golden arena.
The clash of blade and spear created a brilliant sea of light.
Ripples continuously spread across the dark golden arena's barrier, like stones being cast into a serene river, disturbing its calm surface.
At that mont, Fernard suddenly let out a thunderous roar: "Shatter the void, and perish!"
The power of space surged on the Dragonblade, its red light shining like a gem.
In an instant, his Dragonblade transford into countless blade shadows, enveloping Ethan like a shattered void.
Ethan's eyelids twitched, feeling a piercing sensation at the crown of his head.
He knew that Fernard's move was formidable, a deadly strike.
Not daring to be careless, he took a deep breath, gathering all his strength onto his spear.
On the Blasphemous Spear, flas, frost, and Thunder Language of Nature slowly lit up.
This move had no na, but Ethan felt the need to match the montum.
Thus, inspired, he bellowed, "Dragon Soars Nine Heavens!"
In a flash, his spear seed to transform into a soaring dragon, intertwined with red and blue thunder, charging straight at Fernard's blade shadows.
As they countered each other's moves once more, Fernard's eyes turned blood red, caught up in the heat of battle. "Who exactly are you?"
"Like you, a trialist of the god. Participating in the Lord of Wraith's trial of the god," Ethan replied.
"No, you're definitely not just that. Your strength is inscrutable to ."
"Think what you will. Today, I must win this battle."
Fernard burst into laughter, supporting his body with the Dragonblade, "Do you really think I'll lose? I, Fernard, have never let an opportunity slip through my fingers."
With that, Fernard erupted again, his blade instantly transforming into countless streaks of cold light, slashing towards Ethan.
Ethan, in response, swung his spear, shooting blazing flas at Fernard as a counterattack.
Red light flickered in Fernard's eyes, mirroring the dragon eyes on the hilt of the Dragonblade. "If you seek death, then taste the flavor of Fury Addiction," he declared.
As his words fell, a dragon's cry emanated from the Dragonblade, a sound Ethan understood: "Blood--I want blood--"
Fernard's hair puffed up like a lion's mane, his eyes filled with a bloodthirsty hue. "Fury Addiction, once activated, boosts my combat strength tenfold, but it has one drawback. It requires a supply of blood, or I'll be consud by the Dragonblade."
"I don't know who you are, but you must die today. Your blood will compensate the Dragonblade," Fernard growled.
Ethan's face remained expressionless, his heart unfazed. As a divine artifact, the Dragonblade clearly possessed more than just this one Law.
Fury Addiction was likely only a part of its capabilities.
After all, Dragonblade, a sword forged with dragon bone, was inherently linked to dragons.
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