Steve dashed into the chaos with the intent to start fighting desperately. His body shimmered mid-motion and then it shifted.
With a crack of bone and surge of energy, he grew noticeably—his limbs lengthened, his back broadened.
Two jagged bone spikes erupted from his shoulders like the horns of a war beast. And around him, a swirling current of pure sword force took shape, silver and sharp-edged, orbiting his form in chaotic motion.
The Holt Masters barely registered the change before Steve cut through them like a guillotine.
One slash—clean, upward. A man screamed as his torso separated from his waist, his Essence unraveling midair.
Another swung a hammer wreathed in molten force. Steve ducked low, drove his knee into the man's thigh—shattering bone—then followed with a spinning backhand slash that decapitated him in one blur of motion.
The wind howled around him, but it wasn't wind—it was pressure, slicing, spiraling. The Sword Law made manifest.
