— — — — — —
The golden staff came crashing down.
The sheer concentration of divine power twisted space itself, locking Ryo's movements in place.
But in that instant, Ryo moved first.
Silver-white light, streaked with gold at the core, flickered at his fingertip.
Sun Wukong's eyes widened.
The two figures clashed in the blink of an eye.
Woosh...BAM-BAM—
The next moment, Wukong had his back to Ryo, staring at the broken half of his Ru Yi Bang in disbelief.
"Well, damn. Just how hard are your fists supposed to be?"
The staff, reinforced with divine power until it carried the weight of a continent. And this man had shattered it with his bare hand?
Even Wukong had to admit, that was insane.
Behind him, Ryo's voice came, curious and faintly amused. "That last trick of yours… you actually dodged my Pegasus Meteor Fist?"
Billions of blows condensed into straight-line punches, and somehow, the monkey had slipped between every single one. It was the first time Ryo had ever seen anyone pull it off.
"Oh, you mean Divine Speed?" Wukong grinned, sounding far too entertained.
"In terms of raw speed, yeah, I can't hold a candle to your fists. But speed… speed can be bent with the right power."
"You're terrible at using your power. You must've gained it too fast, and never really learned to master it."
Sun Wukong bought time as the broken staff re-knit itself under the flow of divine power, all while explaining:
"Divine Speed doesn't actually make me faster. It twists the time it takes me to move. With that, even a light-speed punch slows down hundreds—thousands—of times. Easier to dodge once you see it like that."
Of course, if one of those punches ever connected, he'd be paste on the spot. Wukong kept that thought to himself.
Honestly, for him, even the Buddha hadn't been this terrifying. At least he didn't throw planet-piercing punches at the speed of light.
No way he could trade blows head-on. His only chance was to wear Ryo down, bait a mistake, then strike.
While Wukong schemed, Ryo let him repair his weapon, speaking almost like he was sighing in admiration. "As expected. The Great Sage can't be underestimated. Twisting time itself to dodge a near-light-speed strike… impressive."
Then he chuckled softly.
"With your current strength, you'd qualify as a freak five-digit in my world. Maybe even push around the weaker four-digits with speed alone. You'd still lose in the end, but you'd give them one hell of a fight."
"I don't know what those digits mean, but I'll take it as a compliment." As he spoke, Wukong's skin took on a bronze luster. The Authority of Steel Body.
Then he used the Authority of Divine Might It was this gift that let him wreak havoc in Heaven and survive, until Heaven itself had no choice but to grant him the title of Great Sage Equal to Heaven.
Then, with a grotesque ripple, two extra heads sprouted from his shoulders, followed by four more arms.
Each new hand gripped a gleaming copy of his golden staff. Six in total.
The Authority of Shapeshifting.
Even after activating all this, looking at Ryo with his Fire Eyes Golden Gaze, Wukong muttered bitterly: "The gap's still huge, isn't it?"
He'd never heard of this so-called "cosmos" Ryo wielded, but energy was energy, and his eyes told him the truth.
If his own power right now was a hundred, Ryo's was a thousand.
A gap of nearly tenfold.
And worse—the stronger side wasn't a god, not even a Campione. It was a pure human.
And that human wasn't even pushing himself fully. Every ten seconds or so, a surge of new energy equal to a god's entire stock of divine power welled up inside him. He just kept getting stronger.
"Unprecedented… truly unheard of."
With a battle cry, Sun Wukong surged forward on his cloud, six weapons spinning in a whirlwind. If he was going to lose, it might as well be in a straight-up fight.
"..."
Ryo smiled, golden sparks dancing on his knuckles. A lattice of lightning spread like a web, his punches multiplying into billions once more.
Wukong barked a laugh. "That move won't work on me again!"
Divine Speed kicked in, warping time until the blazing net of light slowed. To his eyes, the storm of blows was no longer instant, but merely fast—hundreds of times faster than sound, but manageable.
He twisted, ducked, spun his staves to parry what he couldn't avoid.
And then he heard a quiet voice, tinged with regret. "The same trick doesn't work twice on a Saint."
Shit.
The thought barely formed when his Divine Speed crumbled. A rival force seized time itself, dragging his movements into a crawl.
His counter was broken.
The blazing fists converged, weaving into the roaring image of a lion before crashing down on him.
His Steel Skin shattered. Atom-splitting force tore his body apart, scattering him into fragments of dust.
As darkness closed in, Wukong forced a chant through clenched teeth—one last struggle.
But Ryo was already moving.
A streak of violet light flared at his fingertip, curling into rippling rings that lashed onto Wukong's disintegrating form.
By the time the energy struck home, his voice followed, cold and quiet:
"This one's called the Praesepe Underworld Waves (Sekishiki Meikaiha)."
The Praesepe Underworld Waves created by Cancer Deathmask, the gold saint who mastered the 7th sense. Of course, Ryo's move was just cheap imitation.
Sun Wukong's eyes turned dull gray. Just before his spirit was torn free, he managed a hoarse laugh.
"Good name."
Then his body scattered completely, fading into dust.
Ryo lifted his hand, staring at the golden light now pulsing in his palm. For a moment, he considered crushing it… but didn't.
That had been Sun Wukong's escape trick, a way to resurrect even from death.
But Ryo had anticipated it.
"Tch, careless of me. Didn't think my Divine Speed would be cracked so quickly. You've got sharp eyes, kid—one look and you broke my move."
The golden light shrank into a sphere, Sun Wukong's voice echoing faintly from within.
Ryo sounded almost regretful. "A shame."
Don't use the same move twice on a Saint. Don't let them burn their cosmos. Always guard against sneak attacks, poison, treachery…
These were lessons engraved by the fallen warriors. Lessons Wukong had never known.
"Hmph. Cocky bastard. That attitude really grates." Wukong grumbled, but his light was already fading.
"Boring, boring. Just a one-sided beatdown. A shame… if there's a next time, I'll show you what it really means to turn the tables."
His laughter was ragged, but it never lost its edge.
And as his essence unraveled back into myth, he called out one last time: "Not bad, kid. You've got my recognition. For beating me fair and square, take this as your prize— my own imitation of Old Covenant."
A golden beam shot from the light into Ryo's brow.
Then the glow scattered, and Sun Wukong was gone.
No groveling, no clinging to life. Just the dignity of a defeated god returning to legend.
Ryo said nothing. His gaze grew distant, as if piercing through reality itself to glimpse the Netherworld beyond.
"Three of you…. If I have the time, I'll be paying each of you a visit."
His voice lingered in the air as his figure flickered and vanished.
.
.
.