Chapter 82: Borzoi Maxwell 3
Borzoi did not move at first.
He simply stood there, his body still smoking faintly from the impact that had just struck him, his posture straightening slowly as if whatever damage he had taken was being forced back into place by sothing deeper within him. Then, without warning, a change began to spread across his skin, starting from his chest and moving outward, a deep red hue that grew stronger with every passing second until it looked as if his entire body was burning from within.
Maxwell’s expression hardened imdiately.
So he still has that...
His thoughts sharpened, recalling what he had seen earlier, the state that Borzoi had yet to use, the one they had assud he might avoid because of the strain it carried. Yet now, standing before him, the man showed no hesitation at all, as if the damage he had just received had pushed him past any need to hold back.
Borzoi exhaled slowly, the breath leaving his mouth like heat escaping from a furnace.
"If not for the Young Warchief..." he began, his voice lower now, carrying sothing heavier than before, "...I would have died from that."
Maxwell’s eyes narrowed.
Borzoi lifted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto him.
"So don’t misunderstand," he continued, a faint grin forming despite the state of his body, "you didn’t defeat ."
Maxwell did not respond.
Instead, light gathered in his hands once more, brighter than before, denser, as if he had already decided that holding back was no longer an option.
Then he attacked again.
Beams of light erupted forward in rapid succession, each one more intense than the last, filling the space between them with a relentless barrage that left no room untouched. The air trembled under the pressure of the magic, the ground cracking further with every impact as the explosions chained together, one after another, forming a continuous storm of light that threatened to consu everything in its path.
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
Maxwell did not stop.
His arms moved fluidly, casting again and again, his control over the magic precise and unwavering as if he had already calculated every possible movent, every possible reaction that Borzoi might make.
Yet—
Borzoi did not move.
He stood there.
Right at the center of it all.
The attacks struck him directly, one after another, light exploding against his body, the force enough to crush stone and tear apart flesh, yet he did not step back, did not evade, did not even raise his arm to block.
Maxwell’s eyes narrowed further.
Why...
Inside him, the voice spoke.
He’s not moving.
Maxwell continued attacking, but his focus deepened.
Master, is he using evading tribe skill again?
There was a pause.
Then—
No...
The answer ca slowly.
This is different.
Maxwell’s attacks did not stop, but his attention shifted, observing every detail, every reaction, every sign that might reveal what was happening.
His stance...
His breathing...
The flow of mana...
His master continued.
I am trying to understand it.
Another explosion erupted.
Dust and light filled the space.
It is not the sa as before.
Maxwell’s eyes remained fixed on Borzoi.
He is not avoiding.
He is enduring.
Another wave of attacks struck.
Still—
No movent.
But why...
The voice grew more focused.
Wait...
Maxwell’s breathing slowed slightly.
What is it?
His mana...
There was another pause.
It’s condensing.
Maxwell’s eyes flickered.
Condensing?
Yes.
Another explosion.
He’s gathering everything inward.
Maxwell’s attacks continued.
But now—
He understood.
He’s not defending.
He’s preparing.
The realization ca clearly.
At that mont—
Borzoi laughed.
A low, rough sound that carried through the explosions.
"Is that all you’ve got?"
His voice cut through the noise, unshaken, almost bored despite the continuous attacks landing on him.
Maxwell did not respond.
He attacked again.
And again.
Light continued to pour from his hands, relentless, unwavering, each strike aid to break whatever Borzoi was building.
But the man remained standing.
Unmoving.
Unbroken.
Then—
The attacks stopped.
Maxwell paused.
Only for a mont.
Just enough.
Borzoi’s grin widened.
"My turn."
The words ca quietly.
But the mont they left his mouth—
He disappeared.
Maxwell’s eyes widened.
Where—
He did not have ti to finish the thought.
Borzoi reappeared in front of him.
No warning.
No transition.
Just there.
His right arm already raised.
Maxwell reacted instantly, light forming in his hand, but it was too late.
Borzoi’s bicep drove forward.
Not a punch.
Not a strike.
But a brutal slam using the full force of his body.
The impact hit Maxwell’s face directly.
A dull, heavy sound echoed as the force connected.
Then—
Maxwell was sent flying.
His body lifted off the ground, thrown backward with such force that the air itself seed to crack around him, his form tumbling uncontrollably as he crashed into the earth, bouncing once, then again, then rolling across the ground in a long, violent trail that tore through dirt and stone alike.
He coughed hard.
Blood spilled from his mouth.
His vision blurred.
Yet his body continued to move, rolling, sliding, dragged by the montum that refused to let him stop.
Only after several monts did he finally co to a halt.
He lay there.
Breathing unevenly.
Pain spread through him, sharp and imdiate, his entire body protesting against the impact that had just struck him.
Damn...
His thoughts tightened.
He tried to move.
Tried to rise.
Then—
A presence lood over him.
Maxwell’s eyes widened slightly.
Borzoi stood above him.
Looking down.
His foot already raised.
Maxwell reacted instantly, gathering light once more, trying to form a spell, trying to defend, trying to create distance—
But—
"Boom!"
The foot ca down.
It struck his chest with crushing force.
The ground beneath him cracked.
A deep sound echoed as the impact drove him further into the earth, his body sinking into the ground as if pressed down by sothing far heavier than flesh and bone.
Maxwell’s breath was forced out of him.
A sharp, choking sound escaped his throat.
Pain exploded through his body.
Then—
It did not stop.
Borzoi lifted his foot.
Then brought it down again.
"Boom!"
Another impact.
Stronger.
He did not give Maxwell a mont to recover.
Again.
And again.
Each strike crushing him further, each blow forcing his body deeper into the ground, the sound of impact echoing repeatedly as if the earth itself was being hamred apart.
Maxwell tried to respond.
Tried to gather light.
But each ti he did—
Another strike ca.
Breaking his focus.
Breaking his rhythm.
Blood erupted from his mouth, from his wounds, staining the ground beneath him as his body struggled to keep up with the punishnt being inflicted upon it.
His arms trembled.
His vision shook.
Yet Borzoi did not stop.
His expression carried no rcy.
Only intent.
Only the drive to end it.
Another strike.
Then another.
Maxwell’s resistance grew weaker with each passing mont, his body pushed closer to its limit as the relentless assault continued without pause.
Finally—
Borzoi stepped back.
His breathing heavier now.
His body still burning red.
He looked down at Maxwell.
For a mont.
Then—
He kicked him.
Hard.
Maxwell’s body lifted once more, thrown across the ground, sliding to a stop several ters away, leaving a trail behind him that marked every mont of the beating he had just endured.
Silence followed.
Borzoi exhaled slowly.
The red on his body began to fade.
His stance relaxed slightly.
"...Tch."
He clicked his tongue.
"Too weak."
Maxwell did not move.
His body lay still.
Broken.
Barely holding together.
Inside him—
A voice spoke.
No way...
Maxwell’s consciousness flickered.
What...
The voice grew sharper.
Anti Magic?
Reviews
All reviews (0)