Max could feel the profound insight he had just grasped, each word he'd spoken, each thought that had flickered through his mind, carving itself into the foundation of his comprehension. It wasn't just a battle anymore—it was growth, evolution.
He knew deep down that without the immense pressure of that divine-like golden palm, without the sheer will needed to cut through it, he would've never been able to touch that next layer of understanding.
The sword wasn't just an extension of his will now—it was becoming his will.
And yet, it was still so far.
Max had been using the words of the owner of the Concept of Severing Sword like profound comprehension every time he gained some understanding. He had yet to add his own understanding to it.
Until he could do that, Max knew he was far, very far away from truly understanding the Concept of the Severing Sword.
