Chapter 157 : Difference in Power
In an imperceptible breath, Livia vanished from her position, leaving behind a void that seemed to absorb light itself. The air no longer bore any trace of her presence, as if reality had erased her existence from that precise moment. Only a slight ripple in the atmosphere betrayed the passage of her body, like a mirage fading in desert heat.
A whisper of movement caressed Mordred’s left ear a phantom touch, almost tender in its discretion. His senses, sharpened by the recent metamorphosis that had rebuilt every fiber of his being, caught this tremor with crystalline acuity. He remained perfectly still, a black marble statue planted at the center of the cell, his feet having not moved a millimeter since the beginning of their confrontation.
She burst forth like incarnate lightning, her silhouette shooting forward in a deadly ballet of supernatural grace. Her muscles contracted and relaxed in a symphony of controlled power, each movement optimized for speed and lethality. Her arm was like a blade she wielded, glinting briefly in the gloom, hungry for flesh and blood, her flesh resembling polished steel that reflected the few rays of light filtering into their underground prison.
Mordred only tilted his head, a movement so subtle it seemed almost involuntary, and the steel tasted only void, hissing its frustration in the thick air. His posture hadn’t changed, his feet still perfectly aligned, his shoulders straight, as if dodging a mortal attack was just a negligible detail in his day. Livia glided behind him in a fluid movement, her feet barely grazing the cold stone floor, surprised by the disconcerting ease with which he had nullified her first assault.
- "Impressive," he murmured, his voice resonating with an almost insulting tranquility in the confined space. His blazing pupils fixed on the huntress whose satisfied smile illuminated her face, but in that incandescent orange gaze, a glimmer of amusement danced, almost predatory. He was like a feline observing a little mouse, waiting to see how far this demonstration would go.
- "I’ve only scratched the surface of my true capabilities," she purred while circling around him, studying his posture, seeking a flaw in that perfect immobility. "You haven’t even moved your feet. Arrogance or confidence?"
She leaped toward him without waiting for an answer, transformed into a storm of murderous grace. This time, she didn’t settle for a simple attack. Her arms traced complex arcs in the air, her blade-arm describing deadly patterns as she chained together a series of strikes that would have pulverized any ordinary adversary. Each movement was a poem of violence, each rotation a stanza of death.
She attacked first from the right, a quick thrust aimed at the heart. Mordred pivoted his torso slightly, no more than a few centimeters, and the blade passed beside him as if it had been deflected by an invisible force field. Without pause, Livia followed up with an upward movement, seeking to disembowel him, but a simple backward movement of his bust by a few millimeters made the steel meet only air.
She then pivoted on herself, using her momentum to generate additional power, her blade tracing a deadly horizontal arc at neck height. Mordred tilted his head backward, just enough so that the metal whistled above his Adam’s apple without even grazing his skin. His feet still hadn’t moved, anchored to the ground like millennial roots.