There was no way he will defeated; that was an absolute truth, no matter how skilled the knight before him might be as a magician.
After all, in an instant, his body regenerated all wounds and ascended to even greater heights than his opponent in the next moment — the 'Myriad Transformations'.
It was inconceivable that Tarim, the Senai Demon, who possessed such power, could lose.
Tarim wasn't born as a strong demon. There was no inherent superiority in bloodline, no exceptional talent — only a fierce determination to delve into the abyss of magic. Perhaps that determination was precisely what a magician needed most.
He had shattered everything that mocked him, trampled equally on fools who underestimated him.
When he first fought the winged guardian, he felt awe at the overwhelming strength, but soon enough, he looked down on her, even stepping on her head.
Tarim was intoxicated by an overwhelming sense of omnipotence.
Torturing the weak, rolling them in his palm, and savoring the pleasure of toying with them — that was the privilege of the strong.
Certainly, the knight was strong. He hadn't considered that he lacked the skill himself, but that was a blind spot he could cover by using the pawns he had prepared in advance.
The unexpected loss of all the clones he had prepared over a long time was a surprise, but his confidence in victory remained unshaken.
In fact, even without the restraint of hostages, the knight couldn't touch him.
Now, the feeling of growing stronger as time passed was undeniable.
He could see that the speed at which he launched his fists was increasing, and the impact was becoming more significant.
But no matter how strong they were, they were still human. In the demon society, magic talent was absolute. There was an immeasurable gap in magical comprehension between him, who had endured unbearable hardships in such a society, overcoming everything with an indomitable spirit, and the human race.
He was just moments away from crushing him, turning this man into a mass of flesh, and once again making the key and guardian into dolls.
Even the God-Demon War was merely a stepping stone. If he continued to gather pawns and strengthen himself, he would undoubtedly surpass even the previous Demon Lord.
"Shiiiaaahahahaha!!"
While thinking so, Tarim couldn't contain his laughter amid the chaotic barrage.
In the dazzlingly colored landscape painted by sparks, he envisioned a brilliant future.
However, the knight's magic power suddenly swelled significantly before him.
"Huh?"
It was as if magic power had exploded. An enormous amount of magic power flowed into the spell, completing the magic.
While the knight was being pummeled, he took a step forward and yelled.
"'Mika (Storm), Tiaaaaaaa (Fist)!!'"
What was the point of doing that now?
No matter what magic he used, the situation wouldn't change. His futile struggle at the brink of death was like a feeble candle flame in the face of this overwhelming violence.
However, in the next moment, Tarim's fists were repelled by the knight's fists.
And it wasn't just a single blow — all of the fists were almost simultaneously pushed back.
"The brilliance of dying, but it's meaningless!"
If this human going to push back, then crush with even more force.
The 'Myriad Transformations' was activated, infusing more power into his fists. It was the height of foolishness to confront the magic of definitely surpassing one's opponent head-on.
And Tarim calmly struck back thinking so.
But that composure turned to panic in an instant.
"I can't push him back!?"
It was an inconceivable situation.
Tarim, who continued to evolve through 'Myriad Transformations,' couldn't possibly lose in an attack.
If anything, the opponent was striking back with even greater force the moment he increased his power—
(That's impossible!!)
"Shiaaaaaahhhhhhh!!"
He roared, evolving his fists and striking. Strike. Strike. Strike.
The power shifted from panic to confusion, and from confusion to fear.
All of Tarim's attacks were swallowed by the emerald light and disappeared into thin air.
And what appeared before him was a real storm.
It was no metaphor — it devoured everything, crushed it, and left nothing behind, a nest of a raging hurricane.
(What is this...?)
Had the one he was fighting, or rather, thought he was fighting, truly a human?
He was taken aback for a moment.
The Storm Fist had seized not only Tarim but also his very body.
Fists thrust into the gray flesh, and the concept of counting blows vanished as the relentless strikes pierced through his entire being.
Blown away, slammed down, bounced around, hit repeatedly — Tarim was meticulously beaten to a pulp from end to end.
However, while feeling a definite fear, Tarim reminded himself.
As long as 'Myriad Transformations' was active, he would never die, and he could eventually create a body that could surpass even these fists.
To realize that it was a fleeting hope didn't take much time at all.
After all, from the moment of regeneration, fists pummeled relentlessly. Fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after.
"Ah, please, stop..."
He tried to cry out, but his face disappeared.
"Save..."
When he tried to raise his hands, he found them buried up to his shoulders. He was not allowed to move, continuously being killed. Myriad Transformations had become a shackle, ensuring that Tarim did not escape death.
Wait, why, how, stop, you fool, what happened to Myriad Transformations, what happened to my power?
His thoughts were scattered, and within the confines of the Sanctuary, there was no escape. All he felt was pure fear.
The imagination that he might continue to be killed for eternity grew, binding his mind and soul.
Somewhere deep inside, reason was screaming that the situation was impossible.
The knight had mentioned five seconds.
Five seconds – where was that now?
He had no idea how much time had passed.
Or perhaps not even a single second had gone by.
He even began to doubt whether the knight's words had been true. Maybe the knight intended to keep punching him until his magic power ran out.
He didn't know how much magic power he had left.
No, he had lost the ability to think that deeply.
All he wished for was that this storm would stop as soon as possible.
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