Chapter 254: Myst in Motion (2)
After that, Ketal relentlessly continued his assault on the fortress.
He would gather his Myst, condense it into a single devastating strike, and slam it against the dark wall. When he reached his Myst limit, he would retreat, recover until he was refreshed, and then resume his attacks all over again. This process repeated, day and night, a cycle of destruction and recovery, pressure and release. Each round, Ketal’s movements grew more efficient, his control over the Myst tightening.
The result was simple: Carbarax was being driven to desperation.
Every moment was a struggle for him. He poured everything into defending against Ketal’s attacks, using every ounce of cunning and demonic power to keep Ketal from reaching the heart of the fortress. Each time he managed to restore the wall, Ketal would reduce it to dust once more. Onlookers, watching the cycle of devastation, began to feel almost sorry for the demon. It was as if a cruel fate had singled him out for punishment, and Ketal was the judge, jury, and executioner.
Also, through this process, Ketal was evolving.
At first, it had taken him several minutes to gather enough Myst for a single punch. Now, he could gather the same force in less than ten seconds. The number of times he could unleash his full strength before reaching his limit had also increased noticeably. His mastery of Myst was accelerating at a rate that surprised even his teacher.
Watching the progression, Kain murmured in awe, “Your rate of mastery is much faster than I expected.”
Since Ketal had learned to control the flow of Myst, he had improved at a startling pace. Even Kain, who considered himself a seasoned Swordmaster and instructor, felt that he would soon have nothing left to teach.
“At this rate, I’ll run out of things to teach you before long,” he said, his voice carrying both pride and a trace of melancholy.
“There are still things you could teach me.” Ketal’s eyes sparkled, his eagerness undiminished. “Your swordsmanship. I want to learn that too.”
There was genuine longing in Ketal’s gaze. Kain’s style, an art that blurred the lines between illusion and reality, was the first true fantasy swordsmanship Ketal had ever seen. Its allure was irresistible. He was determined to learn it, no matter the challenge.
“That’s... probably impossible,” he admitted quietly, his expression clouding over.