Max moved with deadly precision, calm and efficient. He understood perfectly well that it was foolish to waste powerful techniques or high-level skills Nulls. The stronger the attack, the more energy it consumed—a waste of strength when facing disposable enemies.
Unless, of course, you possessed the kind of overwhelming power that made even ordinary strikes devastating, as Max did. For him, there was no need to resort to grandiose techniques. His basic sword swings carried enough force, precision, and lethal intent to cut down these lesser foes like blades of grass under a farmer's scythe.
Just like that, Max advanced steadily through the swirling melee, his sword flashing in elegant, deadly arcs, each motion so fluid and natural it seemed more like a dance than combat. Every time he swung his blade, a fresh wave of first-level Champion Rank Nulls fell before him, their bodies severed cleanly as though they were nothing more than vegetables being sliced for a meal.
