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The Form of a True Clash of Power

Matrix still managed to smirk, never imagining that he would face such a formidable figure.

Up to this point alone was a source of pride, but after witnessing what happened to Azazel, he considered his current power as nothing more than a toy that couldn't match the man's power.

"With your appearance like that, you truly deserve to be called the God of Death..."

Azazel's sword was drawn towards Matrix, then in the next second, it approached with a slashing sound full of buzzing and a murderous aura.

Ting...

"Don't underestimate me. Do you think I'm here to admit defeat to you?"

They seemed evenly matched in pushing each other, and then Azazel took the initiative to use high-speed attacks.

Swings! Swings...

Ting...

"What?"

It was impossible for Matrix to understand it; Azazel's attacks seemed to have more than one or two lines, numbering in the thousands. Perhaps he could withstand them as best as he could, but Azazel's attacks were illusory, meaning they couldn't be touched directly.

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