MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 961: Martial Rhythm

A knowing smile tugged at Anthony's lips as he heard Kingsley's reply, emerging gradually and full of foresight, like he'd foreseen that very answer well in advance. He'd anticipated it, naturally, since he understood how Kingsley regarded him as a kind of brother—they were both outliers, entities defying the world's usual logic and forging routes that others couldn't grasp or mimic.

Even though Kingsley was the elder in years, Anthony refused to play the role of the junior in any aspect, whether power, aura, or mindset; he aimed to be the senior no matter what, especially since he outmatched Kingsley in might, and in their realm, raw strength often settled such minor pecking orders.

"With that being your choice, let's dive right in," Anthony declared, his smile lingering steadily, relaxed and unforced, as if the upcoming event was routine instead of remarkable.

The instant those words left Anthony's mouth, everyone's senses heightened at once, the ambient buzz fading away in a flash while excitement ignited like a blaze. Though Lucian and Aura Nova had chatted through much of their clash before Lucian abruptly split Aura Nova in two to conclude it, this occasion demanded full focus from all; they strained to catch every word, refusing to overlook anything, including Klaus and Amara, who typically held an aloof vibe, now locked in without a hint of wandering thoughts.

Anthony was the one speaking, after all, and beyond Klaus and Amara, he stood as the mightiest among them, a truth no one would challenge even in their minds. Any wisdom he shared for Kingsley's benefit could propel their own journeys in life and cultivation, possibly revealing overlooked truths. Moreover, a profound curiosity gripped them; Kingsley had navigated existence without ever harnessing any energy form, upending this universe's core rules, so what guidance would Anthony, master of every energy type with insane proficiency, impart to such a figure.

They appeared as clashing extremes that logic dictated should push apart, but in a twist of irony, they were set to draw together right then.

Anthony lifted his right hand, and abruptly, an invisible sheen wrapped his palm, subtle but undeniable, resembling clear light that twisted the nearby air. Lacking any distinct hue or form to pin down, it remained visible to all, and crucially, perceptible, their gut feelings roaring that this was a power utterly alien to the norm.

Anthony's mouth opened as he started explaining, "We call this the Martial Rhythm," his voice emerged deep and even, composed but loaded with an odd gravity, "much like Sword Intent ties to the sword and Spear Intent links to the spear, Martial Rhythm connects to martial arts," Anthony added, then lifted his left hand.

A different energy bloomed on his left hand, keener and more recognizable, thick and overbearing. "This one's the Martial Intent, though as you're aware, your unique build bars you from wielding it," he halted briefly, as if ensuring Kingsley tracked every detail, his gaze scrutinizing for the tiniest shift.

Kingsley hung on every word, eyes fixed without wavering, his golden gaze darting between the Martial Intent and Martial Rhythm like peering into alien realms. Yet confusion stirred within him too, a subtle furrow creasing his forehead; deprived of all energy access, why display the Martial Rhythm like it was within reach.

"Martial Rhythm counts as a forgotten art, or more precisely, something beyond anyone's grasp," Anthony went on, his voice gaining a touch more gravity, "because wielding it demands stripping away all energy and avoiding any kind forever. That's why you or others remain unaware of it. Folks sync with mana, aura, or equivalents, plus no one at this Galaxy tier—or the one above—possesses or comprehends it, fueling its hidden allure," Anthony stopped, his look turning to Kingsley, as if inviting queries and spurring inquisitiveness.

Catching the cue, Kingsley voiced his thought, "Given you grasp my unique makeup already, the Martial Rhythm clearly isn't an energy—what exactly is it?" he inquired, tone even yet brimming with real interest.

Anthony dipped his head in approval at the query, like he'd braced for it, though he'd intended to cover it regardless of the ask, "I'd prefer not to delve too far lest I muddle things up. Still, picture the Martial Rhythm as a current, or a principle, akin to your Concept of Destruction," he clarified evenly, selecting terms with precision.

Kingsley inclined his head, absorbing the breakdown, then opened his mouth once more, "If obscurity stems from needing to shun every energy type to harness it," he broke off for a beat before pressing on, "how come you can wield it?" he questioned.

A smile crossed Anthony's face at Kingsley's remark, and he answered promptly, "Because I'm Null Anthony," his delivery plain and straightforward, like voicing a plain fact instead of something wildly improbable.

Kingsley shook his head in mild exasperation, a soft breath escaping, unsure what he'd hoped for from Anthony, yet conceding that only he could deliver such a line with utter assurance and twist it into seeming reasonable.

Anthony had encountered the Martial Rhythm solely through his Primordial Bloodline and Beginning Of All Things Physique, which fed him shards of primeval lore and gut-level insights into myriad lost ways. Martial Rhythm was just one such buried legacy, a skill that had emerged organically inside him, as if native all along.

Anthony gave a slight grin, then pressed forward, "Under usual circumstances, a case like yours would spark the Martial Rhythm on its own in a handful of years, but here and now, I can trigger its awakening for you," his manner offhand, like proposing something minor.

"How?" Kingsley queried as usual, blunt and to the point, his eyes sparking with intense resolve; after all, who could resist a boost, and from Anthony's description of Martial Rhythm, he grasped that his power would surge to unprecedented heights post-awakening, or at least once he commanded even a sliver of it.

Meanwhile, he sensed Anthony was only brushing the edges of the vast Martial Rhythm topic, but Kingsley shrugged it off. Ignite it first, probe later—that suited his current approach, straightforward and effective.

"It's straightforward: I'll strike you using Martial Rhythm, overwhelming your frame until it sparks to life on reflex," Anthony announced while the Martial Intent in his left hand morphed to Martial Rhythm, both palms now pulsing with that eerie, transparent aura, "This trick wouldn't fly for anyone else, but you're exceptional, Kingsley, so it'll click. The sole question left is if you're ready to weather the agony for it," Anthony concluded firmly, eyes piercing.

Kingsley dropped into a fighting pose right away, no second thoughts, feet planting solid on the ground, breaths measured and even. Agony meant little to him, transient and irrelevant; he could rebound to full form from any wound. Hurt and damage were just minor costs for greater might, and if torment was the fee to advance his road, he'd embrace it gladly.