In the center of the storm, Vitan was naturally unaware of the two young ladies in the audience discussing him.
Whoosh—!
A powerful gust struck from behind, the air pressure so fierce that it made his coat flap wildly and his cheeks sting from the impact.
That Sairaorg chose to attack with pure physical techniques rather than using magic didn't surprise Vitan in the slightest.
After all, this man's fighting style was famous throughout the Underworld.
But only when facing him directly could one truly feel it—that overwhelming sensation, as if standing before a wild and untamed king of beasts.
Still, admiration was just admiration—this level of attack wasn't enough to shake Vitan.
The magic within his body surged, and a swastika-like symbol suddenly appeared on his exposed chest, glowing with a faint blue light.
Turning his body, he channeled his magic and threw his punch.
The entire sequence of actions flowed seamlessly from Vitan without the slightest hitch or awkwardness.
Boom—!
Fist met fist. A terrifying wave of force exploded from the point of contact, triggering a chain of loud shockwaves.
The ground beneath them shattered, and crushed debris rose in a cloud of dust, engulfing both figures and obscuring the battlefield in a haze.
—Hiss!
For a noble lady, such a reaction would be considered terribly improper—absolutely forbidden, even.
And yet, Rias still made this unladylike sound in full view of the crowd.
But no one paid attention to her momentary loss of composure.
Because the shock they felt in their hearts was the same as hers.
When word spread that the head of the Asmodeus family was going to spar with the number one of the new-generation devils, many noble devils could no longer suppress their curiosity. They stood in front of their magic mirrors to watch.
Some, even more intrigued, left the Gremory family's banquet hall altogether to watch the match in person.
It could be said without exaggeration—the battle between Vitan and Sairaorg drew more attention from the noble devils than the day's main event: Rias and Sona's duel.
"The head of the Asmodeus family can actually match Sairaorg-sama in strength?"
A mysterious light sparkled in Akeno Himejima's eyes as she covered her red lips with a delicate hand, trying to mask her shock.
This was the very thing that shocked everyone present!
If Vitan had been using magic to remain on par with Sairaorg, nobody would have been surprised—in fact, that would've been expected.
But right now, that elegant man on the battlefield was exchanging fists with Sairaorg.
One must understand—Sairaorg's physical strength surpassed even some Devil Kings. In the entire Underworld, only a handful of devils could rival him physically.
Bang—!
A string of muffled booms echoed in succession as both figures, moving so fast they blurred the air, were knocked back at high speed.
"That wasn't pure physical power, was it? You must've boosted it with magic!"
Beads of sweat the size of peas rolled down Sairaorg's forehead, but his breath remained steady as he locked his eyes on Vitan.
"True Word Technique. By inscribing a true word, I can use magic to greatly enhance my physical attributes."
Vitan pointed to the 卍 symbol on his chest and shrugged.
"If I didn't use this method, there's no way I could've blocked your heavy fists."
Only after clashing for real did Vitan realize just how much strength the man before him had held back in past Rating Games.
Every punch from him—if delivered in the Human World with its low density—could probably obliterate a mountain in a single strike.
And that distinction mattered: using magic to blow up a mountain, and using a fist to crush one—those were two entirely different concepts.
If he had used this kind of strength in the Rating Games, he would've already climbed to the top ranks, instead of being suppressed by those trash devils who used dirty tricks to reach Devil King level.
"So it was magic after all!"
Sairaorg said with admiration, then planted his feet in a solid stance, spreading his arms into a combat position once more.
"I don't use magic. This body of mine is my greatest and only weapon. No matter what technique you use, what you're facing is only my fists—not magic."
In the next instant, a sharp whistle sliced through the air as Sairaorg lunged forward, his momentum ripping out a series of shockwaves.
The sound resembled a well-known natural phenomenon—chain lightning.
Both fists clenched at his sides, then shot forward as a barrage of rapid punches exploded outward.
The speed of his fists was so extreme that they created sparks from the friction with the air, forming a web-like storm that completely enveloped Vitan.
"Radix!"
"Understood, Master!"
"Reconnect to the archive of 'Sloth'—theme execution—"
A flash of intense white light blazed and vanished. Vitan still stood motionless in place, seemingly unchanged.
But—just as the fist was about to touch Vitan's body, Vitan's steps began to move.
He shifted half a step backward.
The first punch slammed into empty air and struck the ground with terrifying force, causing it to shatter like broken glass.
His feet moved half a step to the left, knees slightly bent.
The second and third punches grazed past his waist and left thigh. Two massive trees, so thick that five people would be needed to encircle one, were snapped in an instant.
A barrage of overwhelming attacks continued to miss their mark.
This scene didn't discourage Sairaorg, a man of steadfast will; instead, his fighting spirit blazed even more fiercely.
He closed the distance completely, now standing face-to-face with Vitan.
"I will hit you, no matter what!"
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh—!
The continuous roar of punches exploded once again in Vitan's ears, countless fist shadows engulfing him.
However, this time the punches were faster and more powerful.
Each one had enough force to make a high-ranking devil cough blood and hover between life and death.
Vitan remained calm and composed, showing no trace of panic.
He stood his ground in front of Sairaorg. In his pitch-black pupils, data-like streams flowed endlessly.
His dodging movements resembled a dance—agile and graceful!
He continued evading, constantly dodging those overwhelming blows with perfect precision.