Quintessence (1)

Dyon's scythe weaved in and out of attacking and defensive positions as though a rotating blade. It twirled around his palms and wrists with a flexibility that exceeded its rigid body. 

Compared to his 109th lifetime, his skill was on a complete other level. Even despite never having used a scythe in his life before this, his foundation in wielding weapons was beyond what anyone could imagine. How many times had he discarded a weapon he had reached the top with, only to choose another and build himself back up once again? 

He tread along the path of the sword, the saber, the spear, the rod, the bow, the knife, the ax… He had touched upon the profundities of so many that he was an enigmatic existence no matter which was being spoken about. 

Tapping into this knowledge, his pace of progress with the scythe was blinding. 

Above him, the Soul Tome floated, wafting out with beautiful pleasing yellow lights every so often.