Ethan clamped Ashen's black sickle tightly between his palm and the scythe's sharp shaft, eyes glinting with disdain and contempt.
A surge of his own energy and blood coursed violently through his arm as he pushed hard, forcing Ashen backwards.
With a splash, Ashen crashed onto the icy surface of Echo Lake, sliding far before finally coming to a halt.
Ethan didn't hesitate for even a moment.
His feet dug into the frozen ground—the sudden burst of power propelling him forward like a ferocious tiger pouncing on its prey.
The scythe's crushing momentum slammed into the lake surface, sending a colossal column of water gushing skyward, roaring with unstoppable force.
Ashen's eyes flickered with alarm—Ethan's offensive flow showed no sign of diminishing.
Instinctively, Ashen raised his arms and hurled the spinning sickle at Ethan.
The weapon cut through the frigid air, spinning rapidly like a silver crescent moon.
