Nameless expanded his power just slightly.
A small radius formed around him ... no more than a few meters at most.
It seemed insignificant.
Almost trivial.
But Agaroth knew immediately—
It was anything but.
The attacks arrived in the next instant.
Overwhelming strikes, enough to erase him from existence.
Yet the moment they touched the Domain—
They unraveled.
Completely.
The world-breaking attacks shattered apart as if they had never existed.
ThencThey reformed.
Redirected.
This time striking one of Agaroth’s many copies surrounding him.
It happened once.
Then again.
And again.
Every time a ranged attack entered the Domain, it was dismantled... and turned against the King’s own forces.
That was how the distant attacks were handled.
As for the physical ones—
Not a single strike touched Nameless.
When Agaroth attempted to cut him down, the moment his dark blades entered the Domain, Nameless’ body moved automatically.
Perfect evasion.
Or perfect defense—whenever evasion was impossible.
And at the same time—
He attacked.
Agaroth understood immediately what Nameless had done.
What that Domain truly represented.
"Four... no, five."
A terrifying smile spread across his face, reflecting both excitement and bloodlust.
The Demon King was beginning to immerse himself in the battle.
Nameless’ King’s Domain was one of the most powerful tools in his arsenal.
A technique that fused five world-breaking abilities at once.
The fifth phase of Shadow Adaptation.
The Void—to determine all paths.
The third phase—to control aura within the Domain and reduce consumption to zero.
The first phase—to adapt to incoming attacks, allowing them to be analyzed and dismantled.
The fourth and sixth phases—to generate an overwhelming aura, forming a Domain that could neither be broken nor bypassed.
A perfect fusion.
A transcendent ability, born beneath the banner of Shadow Adaptation.
But using such power came at a cost.
The souls within Nameless’ body burned at a terrifying rate.
So fast... that many were extinguished completely, vanishing without return.
Fortunately—
The immortal soul of Thanatos remained.
Providing an endless supply of soul-fire.
Nameless sustained all of this...
While still maintaining the manipulation of life and death upon Earth.
This was control on another level entirely.
A level Even the King had never reached.
"I always knew... you were the only one—"
Agaroth stepped through the King’s Domain, colliding with Nameless without the slightest hesitation, utterly unfazed by the terrifying ability surrounding him.
"You’re the only one capable of astonishing these eyes... eyes that have grown weary of this dull, insignificant material world!"
He thrust forward with his dark, blazing weapon.
Nameless barely managed to deflect it.
Between Agaroth’s black blade and Nameless’ gray one, sparks burst into existence.
But they were no ordinary sparks—white, star-like fragments, drifting like cosmic dust.
As if ghosts were dancing within a stage of chaos.
Nameless’ void eyes flooded his mind with overwhelming data.
A great warrior, facing Agaroth, his countless copies, and his world-breaking abilities all at once.
He broke free from a siege that would have killed others hundreds of times over.
The Pursuer continued to push him further.
Higher.
His aura output surged violently, forcing Agaroth to escalate his own power in response.
And the battle raged on.
An endless battle... or so it seemed.
Because in reality—
Barely five minutes had passed.
Yet within those five minutes, the two exchanged an immeasurable number of world-breaking strikes.
Agaroth stood to the right ... uninjured, as every wound inflicted upon him vanished instantly.
Nameless stood to the left, steam rising violently from his body.
A burning vapor, as if his aura itself had become a nuclear reactor on the verge of meltdown.
And aside from the two of them—
Nothing else remained.
Nameless had dismantled every world-breaking ability.
Redirected them.
Destroyed every copy of Agaroth before his very eyes.
Such a feat was only possible...
Because the opponent was Nameless.
And no one else.
A monster remains a monster—
No matter what.
And Agaroth understood that better than anyone.
"This is pointless," the King muttered, shaking his head as he slowly drew his aura back into his body.
"Unless I use the Purifier against you... you’ll survive almost anything."
"Even in your incomplete state."
Nameless narrowed his gaze slightly.
Something had changed.
The flow of aura within Agaroth’s body had shifted completely—into something he had never seen before.
"I’ve always lost to you in duels," Agaroth continued calmly.
"No matter how many sword talents I devoured... I could never defeat you with the blade."
"So this time..."
"I prepared something different."
"Something made... specifically for you."
Agaroth’s expression darkened.
His teeth showed in a twisted grin, forcing Nameless to take a step back, fully on guard.
And then—
It was revealed.
The King’s body ignited with a pitch-black aura.
His shadows crawled across him, reshaping him.
His long black cloak vanished.
And in its place ... Agaroth stood in an entirely different form.
Larger.
His body clad in a black armor fused to his skin, engraved with dark patterns no one could comprehend.
The armor covered him entirely.
Extending over his mouth and nose—
Leaving only his crimson red eyes and long black hair visible.
Everything else... was consumed by the armor.
From his arms, crimson blades extended.
Two from his hands.
Two from his elbows.
A form made for dueling.
And nothing else.
The Yaksha Form.
"Try to endure for as long as you can," Agaroth said, his voice cold, echoing from behind the mask.
"I’m not skilled enough... to fully restrain this form’s power."
He raised one of the bladed arms.
And in an instant—
The blade extended.
Like a metallic beam, slicing through everything in its path.
Nameless evaded by a hair’s breadth.
The blade continued endlessly... before snapping back to its original size, as if nothing had happened.
Agaroth struck again.
A horizontal slash.
The crimson blade extended once more.
This was no sword strike.
It was something else entirely.
Nameless barely avoided it again.
But the moon beneath him was not as fortunate.
The blade extended—
And carved through it.
Splitting a massive portion apart.
Nameless countered.
He struck Agaroth.
The King blocked with one of his blades, then twisted his body at an impossible angle, striking from Nameless’ blind spot.
Nameless turned instantly.
He blocked.
But dozens of strikes followed immediately, forcing him backward.
The two clashed at an ever-increasing speed.
Each exchange faster than the last.
Nameless was still as skilled as ever.
But the difference between past and present...
Was that Agaroth could now match him with the blade.
No—
He surpassed him.
Driving him back.
Nameless expanded the King’s Domain, attempting to track and respond more effectively.
But the King’s speed in this form transcended all limits.
Even the void eyes struggled ... pushed to their absolute limit just to keep up.
The crimson blades carved into Nameless’ body again and again.
And there was no regeneration.
Those blades were forged by fusing multiple world-breaking abilities.
An unbreakable metal.
The battle had completely shifted.
The moment Agaroth released that form.
And seeing it—
Nameless began to wonder.
If this was merely one of the cards Agaroth had hidden...
Then how many more remained?
How many weapons had he yet to reveal?
Was there truly a limit... to his power?
The King was enjoying himself.
Completely.
There was no sign of threat.
He did not feel his life was in danger... not even for a moment.
And that realization—
Crushed any remaining chance of victory.
As they exchanged blows, Nameless understood this more clearly than anything else.
’I know... I cannot defeat him.’
The thought echoed within his mind.
Frey—lost within the darkness—heard it clearly.
’But I have no choice... but to fight.’
Within Nameless’ grasp—
Countless souls remained trapped.
The souls of the dead, bound by his manipulation of life and death.
’If I fall... they will all die.’
’So I have no choice... but to endure until the end.’
Did he have a plan?
No.
Was there any chance of victory?
No.
That was what the void eyes showed him.
And yet—
The current of fate continued.
And no one could predict its end.
Nameless kept fighting.
At the same time, searching.
For a way to turn the tide.
For a way out of the impossible.
The pressure was overwhelming.
Crushing.
And yet—
He fought. Until the very end.