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C1900 2.5X

5X James picked at his ears. "I don't know what that means, but if you're going to fight, I hope you have something better than this. If taking you down is too easy, how am I going to have the face to see the guys again? I need you to make me nice and bloody, preferably half dead."

Aina was a long distance away from James' battlefield, supporting the others, but she was still paying keen attention in case anything went wrong. She wasn't entirely certain of how powerful James was although Leonel had said it would be fine. But hearing him speak like this her lip couldn't help but twitch.

He and Leonel were really too similar, too good at pissing people off, and had mouths that were too smart for their own good.

Elorin didn't say anything to James' words.

Innate battle instinct wasn't something that was tangible or even a widely accepted concept, it was something he had only heard his grandfather talk about. Old Hutch used to say that there were simply some people in existence who had talent in battle that didn't conform with common sense.

In truth, James' talent was bound to come out in one way or another. It was clear to everyone by now that the Gene Assessment wasn't a casual measure taken by the Ascension Empire, they knew that it could point them in the direction of talents that they could then preserve and save from the massacre.

Five Star Professions were especially rare, even in entertainment professions. On the entire Royal Blue Academy football team, only Leonel and James were Five Star.

However, what was confusing was that while Leonel received an S-Class evaluation after leaving the Mayan Tomb, James only received an A-Class evaluation. Of course, that was still far better than most of Leonel's other teammates that only received C and B-Class evaluations, but it was a hint disappointing for a Five Star.

By now, those evaluations were quite useless as many had evolved far beyond those original markers, but they were still a baseline foundation for denoting potential.

What no one could have expected was that the concentration of James talent wouldn't come from Ability Index alone, but rather a more amorphous, auxiliary talent that was difficult to pinpoint, a talent buried in his very soul and one that had been fully unearthed only after he created his own Lineage Factor, becoming a true Spark just like Emna.

Elorin took a breath and exhaled. It was a subtle action, but his demeanor shifted entirely. It seemed that holding back was not an option.

In truth, Elorin had no idea how powerful Emperor Fawkes was, he was only operating under a possible worst case scenario. But since things had reached this point, there was simply no avoiding it. He would make one final push. Since the Cloud Race was useless, he would do it himself, and if he failed, there was no one better at escaping than he was.

For Elorin, with his current speed, crossing a kilometer didn't even take him a single second. In his base state, he could accelerate time by two times. Meaning, so long as he bought some time by evading in battle, he could witness the future at twice the speed anyone else experienced the present.

After observing the future, he could pick a causality, but things weren't so simple. At best, he could observe three causalities at the same time. So, if he wanted to layer a punch more than four times-one for his present, and three from addition causalities-he would need to reset and then observe again. And, of course, the causalities of others were very blurry to him unless he concentrated, which tied him down to observing only himself and things that acted directly on him.

That said...

This was just his baseline. This was a level of use that caused no damage to himself and took no energy whatsoever. He did this as easily as breathing and he could do it practically forever at no cost to him. And unfortunately for his enemies, this was nowhere near his limit.

"Let's see how you deal with four causalities then," Elorin said lightly.

Suddenly, Elorin moved and James moved at the same time, both reacting at once as they clashed. The four-layering of Elorin's strikes became five seamlessly. It was hardly more difficult, almost as though he had gone from sitting on a bench to a brisk walk.

James' eyes narrowed. This had already become a battle that Noah and the others couldn't participate in even if they wanted.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The two cross blades and fists, dancing across the ruins of the palace as they glided around pillars and hard marble stone.

"How about six?" Elorin asked softly.

The pressure increased once again. Seven Elorin's danced around James, each one just as real as the last.

James' grinned and ugly grin. He had asked for this and Elorin didn't seem to hesitate to deliver. His own aura flourished, pieces of solidified energy shields slamming into place as they formed a radiant white-gold armor dancing with complex runes.

He blasted out a punch, but what was shocking was that the very Force of the punch solidified a distance away, crumbling two of Elorin's causalities.

"How about ten?"

James felt several punches collide with him, rattling his inner organs.

Elorin danced, his machete leaving elegant, curved streaks in the air. He seemed like a completely different person, his fierce attacks carrying shades of his grandfather as he pressed forward with greater and greater ferocity.

James countered, but he quickly found himself on the backfoot. He didn't feel like he was fighting one person, it felt like he was fighting eleven, all of them just as powerful. Elorin's power seemed to have almost tripled in an instant.

Elorin, a man who didn't speak much to begin with, seemed to have been truly triggered by James' words. He saw this as a battle for his parents, but not only were his allies nothing more than walking clowns, this nobody wanted to crack jokes.

In that case, he would crack jokes too.

"How about 2.5x acceleration?"

The voice came in layers, echoing through the curtains of time of space. It seemed to touch on the past, present and future, linking them into one.

Elorin's blade left afterimages in the air, crossing into a causality that James could react to.

PCHU!

The machete seemed to pass through the plate armor on James' shoulder, ripping into his collarbone.

To be continued