Steel met steel.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The sky beneath their feet rippled with every clash, reflections distorting like a surface struggling to hold two forces that didn't belong in the same place.
Drax didn't speak.
Didn't think.
Didn't reach for anything beyond the blade in his hand.
Just—
Fight.
The man in black robes stood before him, hazel eyes calm, unreadable. His movements were simple, almost minimal… but every strike carried something deeper than technique.
Drax stepped in.
Their swords collided.
CLANG.
The sound echoed like something ancient being struck.
This time—
The man changed.
A faint glow spread across his blade again.
Red.
Not flashy.
Not explosive.
Just… absolute.
He swung.
Drax blocked.
And everything broke.
The impact slammed into him like the world itself had decided to fall.
His arms shook.
His stance collapsed.
He was launched—
Sent flying across the realm like he weighed nothing.
The sky cracked as his body tore through the reflection beneath him before he slammed into the ground, skidding across the surface until he finally stopped.
Silence.
Drax lay there.
Breathing heavy.
Chest rising and falling slowly.
His sword—
Still in his hand.
He didn't let go.
Not even for a second.
"…That's…"
He stared up at the sky.
"…the strongest thing I've felt."
His fingers tightened around the hilt.
Every instinct told him to end it.
To use the abyss.
To overpower.
To devour.
To dominate.
But he didn't.
He refused.
"…No."
He pushed himself up slowly.
Blood ran down the side of his face.
"…If I use that…"
He stood.
"…I won't learn anything."
The man was already walking toward him again.
Calm.
Unrushed.
Drax exhaled slowly.
Then—
He moved.
This time—
He changed.
He didn't fight like himself.
He fought like him.
Step.
Angle.
Timing.
The way the man held his blade—
The way he shifted his weight—
The way he cut.
Drax imitated it.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
Their blades clashed repeatedly, sparks scattering into the mirrored sky.
Drax adjusted.
Refined.
Copied.
Perfected.
The man's eyes narrowed slightly.
For the first time—
There was a reaction.
Drax's movements became sharper.
Cleaner.
More precise.
He performed the sword arts—
Not roughly.
Not forcefully.
But perfectly.
The man paused for a fraction of a second.
Surprised.
But he said nothing.
Because he couldn't.
Or wouldn't.
Drax stepped back slightly.
Breathing steady now.
He closed his eyes.
Held the sword upright.
And went inward.
No abyss.
No power.
No external force.
Just—
Focus.
Darkness.
Silence.
Then—
A flicker.
A small glow.
It appeared in the void of his mind.
Tiny.
Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
Drax focused on it.
The glow grew.
Slowly.
Then faster.
Expanding.
Brightening.
Until—
It consumed everything.
He stood somewhere else.
A world of blades.
Endless.
Swords embedded into the ground in every direction, stretching beyond the horizon.
Broken.
Whole.
Ancient.
Forgotten.
A graveyard of mastery.
And at the very top—
A mountain.
Made entirely of swords.
At its peak—
A figure stood.
Drax looked up.
Tried to see.
But—
Pressure descended.
Overwhelming.
Crushing.
It forced his body down.
His legs trembled.
His vision blurred.
"…Tch."
He gritted his teeth.
Refused.
His knees bent—
But didn't touch the ground.
"I'm not kneeling."
He forced his head upward again.
The pressure intensified.
His body screamed.
But he kept going.
Just for a glimpse.
And then—
He saw it.
The figure at the top.
Looking down.
Smiling.
Calm.
Absolute.
Their eyes met—
And Drax felt it.
Cuts.
Everywhere.
Across his body.
Across his mind.
Across his existence.
Not physical.
Not even energy.
Just—
Intent.
He felt like he died.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
A thousand times over.
Just from being looked at.
But he didn't fall.
Didn't break.
Didn't look away.
"…Wait…"
His breath came out uneven.
"…Intent…"
Everything clicked.
This is how it works.
Not power.
Not technique.
Not even skill.
Intent.
The will behind the blade.
The decision to cut.
The certainty that something will be severed—
Before the blade even moves.
Drax's lips moved slightly.
"…I see."
The world shattered.
His eyes opened.
Back in the sky realm.
The man stood in front of him.
Waiting.
Drax exhaled slowly.
Then smiled.
Not arrogant.
Not playful.
Just—
Certain.
"I am the abyss."
He lifted his blade.
Black energy began to form around it—
But this time—
It wasn't the same.
Not coating.
Not flow.
Not raw essence.
It was…
Denser.
Darker.
Sharper.
"…and the abyss answers to me."
His grip tightened.
"My will."
The blade hummed.
"…my intent."
The black glow deepened—
So heavy it felt like it could cut without moving.
The man in black robes smiled.
A real smile this time.
Acknowledgment.
Approval.
Finally—
A worthy opponent.
Then—
They vanished.
Mid-air—
CLANG.
Their blades collided again.
This time—
Different.
Black met red.
Intent met intent.
The impact shattered the sky itself.
Cracks spread endlessly across the mirrored world—
Before repairing seconds later.
Again.
And again.
They clashed.
Faster.
Sharper.
Stronger.
Sparks flew like stars being born and destroyed in the same moment.
Neither yielded.
Neither stepped back.
The sky couldn't hold them—
But it tried.
Because this wasn't just a fight anymore.
It was a conversation.
Between blades.
Between wills.
Between two beings—
Who had decided to cut the world itself.