Suddenly, a loud popping sound echoed, followed by the high-pitched whirring of something spinning at an incredible speed. The noise was sharp enough to pierce the ears.
When the sound finally faded, Blaine exhaled heavily. Even with a body that had surpassed that of a god, he felt exhausted. Gods could grow weary too—this was simply too much.
He had no doubt that if he'd arrived here just a few minutes earlier, he might not have survived the encounter. His arms still throbbed painfully. Thankfully, his self-healing ability handled such minor issues easily; otherwise, he would've been forced to retreat into the Hunter Space for at least fifteen minutes.
"This is it? How do you still know the techniques of that old ghost from Atlantis? I really don't understand anymore."
Dormammu hadn't attacked with full force this time. Instead, he paused, surprised, recognizing a familiar pattern in Blaine's moves.
Blaine was equally shocked. He hadn't expected Dormammu to know the first king of Atlantis. Based on that, just how long had Dormammu lived? Centuries? Millennia? The same could be said for the Ancient One—another ancient monster in human form. Maybe calling him an "old monster" wasn't just mockery after all.
"There's a lot you don't know," Blaine retorted, masking his surprise with a rebellious grin. He leveled the trident directly at Dormammu and moved again.
When he attacked, his movements were like a silver dragon striking with its claws, retracting the halberd like lightning flashing through the sky. The weapon coiled like a serpent and lashed out like a thunderbolt, roaring through the air like a storm-tossed gale. His strikes flowed like a dragon rolling through the sea, like snow swirling in a blizzard. Against ordinary enemies, this flurry of precise movements would have left them dazed and overwhelmed—this was the beauty of the halberd. When it moved like a dragon, it 'was' a dragon. The next step was always to strike when the opponent was least prepared, delivering a single, fatal blow.
Against normal foes—or even ones several tiers above him—such a barrage could turn defeat into victory. But against Dormammu, who was leagues beyond him in power, those moves were hardly enough. To Dormammu, Blaine probably looked like a child waving around a sharp toy.
Yet the moment Dormammu's focus faltered, Blaine thrust his trident.
"Cuckoo…"
No matter how Blaine's halberd danced, Dormammu seemed to see right through him. Out of the thousands of afterimages, he recognized the real one instantly. The great, flame-wreathed face tilted slightly to the side, dodging Blaine's strike with ease.
"It's now."
Just as the halberd thrust forward, Blaine's lips parted slightly—and a thin beam of black light shot out. It was almost invisible, faint as a shadow, but it streaked through the air with deadly precision. It was the same dark energy beam Dormammu had used earlier—the one Blaine had just learned to replicate.
"Hm?"
The ray hit before Dormammu could react, and the space around him fractured layer by layer.
"Hahaha! There's an old saying on Earth—I don't know if you've heard it—'an eye for an eye.'"
The blast actually tore through the dark matter around Dormammu, stunning Blaine. By all logic, there was no way a technique he'd just learned should possess that much power.
Only later did Blaine realize why—the entire realm was saturated with dark matter. Naturally, a ray made of the same substance was amplified by the environment itself.
He'd tested this after returning to Earth. Outside the Dark Dimension, the same ray still exploded with the force of high-grade TNT—but its true potential clearly depended on the density of surrounding dark matter. As his strength grew, he knew the attack's power would rise accordingly.
"Cuckoo…"
Whether out of rage or confusion, Dormammu stopped speaking altogether and unleashed a wave of incomprehensible sound—his own native "dialect"—as a weapon.
"It's not over yet!"
By now, Blaine was fully locked in the fight. He'd already summoned Hawkeye in secret. Upgraded to level six, Hawkeye's vision was sharper, his range wider, and he'd gained a few extra tricks—like slowing enemy attacks, spotting tiny flaws in rapid movements, and even limited x-ray sight.
Before, Blaine had used Hawkeye's overhead vision to act like an all-seeing eye—combining it with his psychic sense to track hidden enemies, even through walls. But now, even in complete darkness, Hawkeye's perception was as sharp as advanced surveillance tech—and growing stronger.
As for his Soul Tracking technique, Blaine refused to use it here. Against an opponent like Dormammu, any psychic attack was far too dangerous. It might only expose a weakness and allow Dormammu to corrupt his mind.
'Prick. Stab. Thrust. Sweep. Wrap. Circle. Block. Hook. Strike. Pull. Spin. Bloom.'
These were the patterns of the halberd's dance. There was even a technique known as "Looking Back to Dig," a deceptive move from the Spring and Autumn Saber Style. The manual described every motion in exquisite detail, and Blaine had clearly mastered its essence.
In what felt like mere seconds, he had unleashed hundreds of strikes.
'DAL—!'
A deafening clang rang from the trident, startling both Blaine and Dormammu.
"Could it be… could it have triggered?"
As Blaine shouted, the trident's tip flared—and from it, a faint dragon-shaped apparition burst forth, roaring as it opened its maw. A violent gust surged out, collapsing the surrounding space layer by layer.
The sheer force rivaled Dormammu's earlier sonic assault. It was the Flood Dragon's Roar, a secondary ability of the Flood Dragon Trident—and its destructive power was terrifying.
"I didn't think I'd trigger this with just a one-in-a-thousand chance!"
Blaine's pulse quickened. He couldn't help but grin, both impressed by the weapon's might and his sheer luck.
"I wonder… if I try a few more times, could I trigger 'Ice Sky Burial Flower' next?"
For the next three minutes, Blaine spun the trident faster and faster, attacking relentlessly. But the elusive secondary skill never reappeared.
Still, his nonstop assault clearly unsettled Dormammu, who shifted positions countless times, trying to evade the storm of strikes.
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