Final Regression of The Legendary Swordmaster Chapter 40

The Berserker State—a legendary phenomenon accessible only to those who had bridged the gargantuan gap to the 5-Star comprehension of Martial Arts—was not merely a boost in power. It was a violent, temporary evolution. It allowed the practitioner to burn their life essence and vitality to forcibly ascend to the realm above their own. For Valerius, a warrior at the Peak of the Adept Stage, the red aura meant his raw physical strength and mana output were now equal to a Peak True Mage.

Every vein in Valerius’s neck was corded like a steel cable, and his eyes had become twin pits of glowing crimson light. He exerted a pressure that turned the soil beneath him into fine powder, while the heavy claymore in his hand hummed with a resonance that threatened to shatter the eardrums of anyone within a hundred yards.

Edward watched the transformation, his own blue lightning chirping. He adjusted his stance, his eyes narrowing. He was at the initial stage of the High Mage realm, just a step above the Berserker’s current peak.

"Master Edward!" Valerius called out. "Experience the weight of my thirty years!"

FWISH—

In a single breath, Valerius vanished.

He moved so fast, it was like he teleported. The ground where he had stood exploded, leaving a crater four feet deep. He reappeared above Edward, his claymore descending with the ’5-Star Sword Art: Heaven’s Falling Pillar.’ The blade was wreathed in a flame-like red mana that reached a temperature capable of melting iron.

Edward’s blade met the claymore in mid-air.

BOOM!

The force of the impact leveled everything around them and shook the entire manor. It wasn’t just the sound of metal hitting metal; it was like a clap of thunder. Edward’s feet sank into the ground, and his clothes whipped around him. He didn’t back down, but you could tell he was feeling the pressure. Valerius was like a force of nature, a raw, untamed power that tested Edward’s limits.

What followed was a high-stakes exchange of martial and sword arts that transcended the perception of the common knights watching from the balconies. To the onlookers, there were only streaks of purple and red light clashing against each other.

Clang. Clang. Clang-Clang-Clang.

Valerius moved with the relentless momentum of a berserk engine. He utilized the ’5-Star Martial Art: Gale-Step,’ his heavy armor seemingly weightless as he performed mid-air pivots and sudden, jarring changes in direction. His claymore was a blur, alternating between wide, sweeping cleaves and lightning-fast thrusts. Each strike carried the concentrated power of a Peak True Mage, reinforced by his 5-Star comprehension.

Edward, however, was also a master of the blade. Every swing was met with his precise parry and counter.

Edward’s blade moved with a surgical and calm precision. As Valerius swung a horizontal strike aimed at his ribs, Edward tilted his blade just enough to let the claymore slide over the steel, the red sparks showering his shoulder harmlessly. As Valerius followed up with a shoulder bash fueled by his aura, Edward performed a micro-step back, his body swaying like a willow in a hurricane.

Throughout the hundred-stroke exchange, the knight was an unstoppable force, yet he couldn’t touch his target. Edward remained untouched, his eyes analyzing every tremor in Valerius’s muscles, every fluctuation in the red aura.

As the fight reached the five-minute mark, the strain of the Berserker State began to show on Valerius. The crimson aura was flickering, and steam began to rise from the joints of his armor—the literal evaporation of his sweat and life force. He was a candle burning at both ends, and Edward knew it.

"Is this the limit of your devotion, Captain?" Edward asked, his voice cutting through the roar of the lightning.

Valerius didn’t answer. He let out a primal scream and unleashed his ultimate technique: ’5-Star Sword Art: The Hundred-Fold Crimson Fang.’ He lunged forward, his claymore becoming a blur of a hundred simultaneous thrusts, each one creating a vacuum in the air.

This was the moment of peak intensity. The red mana was so dense it turned the garden into a crimson haze.

Edward’s expression finally shifted. He stopped being a passive observer. The blue lightning around his body intensified, shifting from a chirp to a high-pitched scream.

SWISH!

Edward’s speed didn’t just increase; it tripled. He moved with a velocity that surpassed the Berserker’s heightened senses. To Valerius, it was as if the boy had suddenly multiplied.

Edward stepped into the ’Hundred-Fold Crimson Fang.’ He parried ten thrusts in a single second, his blade vibrating with the force. Then, he performed a move that defied the knight’s comprehension. He stepped inside the range of the claymore, his shoulder hitting Valerius’s chest with the force of a battering ram.

Thud!

Valerius’s momentum was halted. Edward didn’t stop there. He began a relentless counter-offensive.

Flick. Slice. Pivot.

He struck the joints of Valerius’s armor with the pommel of his sword, then delivered a palm strike to his head. Each hit was a surgical strike against the knight’s center of gravity.

The knight was being pushed back, as Edward’s steps remained clean, measured, and precise. Edward’s eyes were locked onto Valerius’s bloodshot ones, unblinking and merciless. With every violent clash of steel and mana, the blue lightning surrounding Edward flared brighter and more dominant, while the knight’s once-ferocious red aura flickered, thinning and fading as it was steadily overwhelmed.

The power dynamic had shifted. Edward was now dominating the battle.

"You’ve fought well for a dead man’s cause," Edward whispered as he drove his blade forward, forcing Valerius into a desperate, two-handed block that sent the knight skidding fifty feet across the garden floor. "But your king is dead. It’s time you learned to serve a new sovereign."

Edward stood in the center of the charred garden, his blade held low, the blue lightning coiling around him. Valerius struggled to his feet, his breath a wet, ragged wheeze, the first part of their final struggle coming to a close as the knight prepared for his last, desperate stand.