What kind of spell was that..?
That was the collective thought ringing through the minds of everyone who had witnessed it—Ash vanishing, only to appear above the demon, thorns bypassed like they were never meant to touch him.
His body hovered for the briefest second, suspended in the air as if space itself bent to his presence.
And then, his fist moved.
A magic circle flared to life, pulsing around his hand, crackling with raw, unfiltered mana. It was the [Lightning Fist] spell—technically, a basic First Circle wide-range spell meant to hurl a barrage of weak lightning punches.
Ash didn't like long-range combat. He believed in the thrill of close-quarters, the raw clash of body and magic.
So he tore the spell apart, rewove them one by one until it wasn't a barrage anymore. It became one—a single fist, formed from the essence of many.
That wasn't all.
He hadn't stopped there.
