Chapter 63: Test of Strength
Clay clenched his fist slowly, feeling the unfamiliar yet intoxicating power coursing through his body, and then he spoke with a tone that carried both curiosity and excitement.
"How strong is my normal attack now?"
His fingers tightened, his arm pulled back, and without any grand display or preparation, he threw a simple punch forward.
The air screamed.
It did not merely part. It tore open as if reality itself could not bear the force behind that motion, and the already ruined gate of the Border Town did not just crumble further, it vanished into a storm of shattered stone and pulverized debris that flew outward like a violent tide swallowing everything in its path, leaving behind a widening gap that stretched farther than any of the soldiers had ever imagined possible from a single strike.
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Dust rose in waves.
The walls groaned.
And for a moment, no one spoke.
Far away, miles from the Border Town, Maxwell and Frazzana were moving through the northern terrain with a group of Holy Knights, their armor stained with dirt and blood as they fought through clusters of beasts that seemed to multiply endlessly, their roars echoing across the land as they clashed not only with the knights but with each other in a chaotic frenzy that made every step forward feel like a battle for survival.
They came here to support the young master of Valmont Family. Yet now, they are in a big mess.
The knights were exhausted.
Their breathing was heavy.
Their movements lacked the sharpness they once had when they first entered this cursed land.
Only two among them remained composed.
Frazzana moved like a cold storm, her ice magic forming blades and spikes that pierced through beasts with precision, freezing limbs and shattering bodies in bursts of frost that glittered briefly before dissolving into the chaos.
Maxwell stood beside her, his sword steady, his eyes calm, even as sweat rolled down his face.
Inside his dantian, the old master observed silently before finally speaking.
"That girl... her control is impressive. Her ice is not just cold, it carries intent. Clean, efficient, and without waste. If she continues like this, she will surpass most of her peers without question."
Maxwell did not respond.
He only nodded faintly.
Then the commander of the knights shouted, his voice strained but firm.
"We are surrounded! Hold your ground!"
The knights turned.
Their faces drained of color.
Beasts filled their vision.
From the front, from the sides, even from behind, massive creatures moved toward them, some tearing into each other while others locked onto the humans with hungry eyes, their sheer numbers enough to crush any hope of escape.
Fear spread quickly.
Some tightened their grip on their weapons.
Some took a step back without realizing it.
Some whispered prayers under their breath.
Then it came.
At first, it was nothing more than a faint breeze.
A weak, almost harmless wind that brushed against their faces.
Then it grew.
Stronger.
Sharper.
It howled.
The knights were forced to shut their eyes as the gust intensified, their cloaks flapping violently, their footing almost lost as the air itself seemed to surge forward like an unstoppable wave.
And then, silence.
When they opened their eyes again, everything had changed.
The beasts were gone.
Not scattered.
Not pushed away.
Gone.
The land before them was empty, carved open in a straight path that stretched beyond their sight, as if something had passed through with such overwhelming force that it erased everything in its way without leaving even a trace of struggle behind.
Trees were gone.
Hills were flattened.
Even distant rock formations had been reduced to nothing.
The old master inside Maxwell trembled.
"What... what kind of power is this? There is no mana... none at all... this is pure physical force... impossible... this is impossible..."
Maxwell’s grip on his sword tightened.
Frazzana narrowed her eyes.
None of them spoke.
None of them understood.
And none of them knew that this destruction came from a single casual punch.
Back at the Border Town, Clay slowly lowered his arm, his eyes gleaming as he observed the aftermath of his strike.
"That was just a normal punch... strengthened by my passive ability."
This is insane...
He exhaled lightly, then turned his gaze to another direction.
"Let’s try this."
His fist tightened again.
This time, something changed.
His fist became red, not blazing like fire, but dense, heavy, as if the air itself was being compressed into his knuckles.
The ground beneath him cracked slightly.
The soldiers behind him instinctively stepped back.
Even Cerys watched carefully.
Then he punched.
The world roared again.
The force exploded outward, not just in front of him but expanding sideways like a sweeping storm, tearing through the landscape in a wide arc that erased everything it touched, sending another devastating wave across the distant land.
Far away, Maxwell and the others barely had time to react.
A sudden gust slammed into them from behind.
They turned instinctively.
And then—
Another path of destruction carved through the land behind them.
The beasts that had begun to gather once more were wiped out instantly, their bodies crushed and erased before they could even react, leaving behind only silence and a barren stretch of earth that looked as though it had never known life.
The knights stood frozen.
One of them dropped his weapon without realizing it.
Another slowly knelt, his lips trembling.
"What... what is happening..."
Frazzana’s expression tightened.
Maxwell remained silent, but inside him, the old master was almost shouting.
"Run... if whatever did this turns its attention here, none of you will survive..."
But there was no enemy.
Only the aftermath.
Only the impossible.
Back at the Border Town, Clay let out a loud laugh, his voice filled with excitement that he could no longer hide.
"Hahaha! This is insane! This is really insane!"
He opened his hand, then clenched it again, feeling the power respond instantly, like a weapon that was always ready, always eager.
"I just got myself a ridiculous new weapon..."
No... not just a weapon... this is dominance...
The soldiers watched him with awe.
The Captain swallowed hard.
Cerys observed quietly.
But among them, one person felt something entirely different.
Borzoi stood still.
Completely still.
His remaining hand trembled slightly.
His eyes were locked on Clay.
And what he felt... was not admiration.
It was fear.
Real fear.
The kind that crawled into the bones and refused to leave.
He had seen strength before.
He had witnessed warriors crush enemies with overwhelming force.
He had grown up believing that the Bersuka Tribe stood above all in physical might, that their bodies were the ultimate weapons, that their fists could break anything that stood in their way.
But what he saw now shattered that belief completely.
This... this is not strength...
His breath grew uneven.
His thoughts became chaotic.
This is something else... something that should not exist...
He remembered the Warchief.
He remembered Bufolk.
He remembered the pride of their tribe.
All of it felt meaningless now.
Clay had not just defeated them.
He had erased them.
Effortlessly.
Without even taking it seriously.
Borzoi’s legs felt weak.
For the first time in his life, he understood something that no lesson, no battle, no elder had ever taught him.
There was a level beyond strength.
And Clay stood there.
Smiling.
Like it was nothing.