Reborn: Apocalypse

(If you see any typos or mistakes, leave a comment/let me know! I will go back and fix them! )

The sun beat down on Micheal's forehead, a sheen of sweat coating it as he looked out at the arena around him. The air was surprisingly warm, considering how high they were up on a mountain. His gaze was calm and steady, not betraying even a hint of nervousness.

That fact, alone, was bound to impress given that he was currently surrounded by over 200 superhuman warriors, of which even the weakest had a more powerful body than he did.

After Micheal challenged literally every other disciple, a small hubbub had broken out. Several of the new disciples had thrown a flurry of insults at Micheal, while still others had angrily approached him, fists balled up and ready to throw. It had been a scene on the verge of chaos, just moments from a violent outbreak.

Before things got too out of hand, however, the Instructors forcibly settled things down.

Specifically, when Chief Instructor Borbo, Micheal finally learned the hefty Toren's name, let out a veritable avalanche of pressure, a pulsing energy Aura that froze everyone in their tracks. Even Micheal was forced to stand still, his eyes widening ever so slightly when he felt it.

That Aura was a strong one indeed. It held enough pressure to give even First Rate Warriors pause and force Second Rate Warriors to freeze up, let alone Micheal whose body was that of a Third Rate Warrior. Not only did it hold the strength of a Sky Tier Ki Cultivator, it was also imbued with the natural power of the Toren Race.

"As long as I, Borbo, am Chief Instructor of the Mullan Sect, none of you are allowed to attack one another without my approval." The Chief Instructor's voice was nominally calm, but full of explosive undercurrents as his eyes visibly smoldered. If anyone so much as dared to talk back, it felt like be might even smite that poor fool down, then and there.

No one dared to speak up or reply, all of the Torens staring at Borbo mutely.

The tension of the situation vanished, just like that, as the Instructors reasserted control.

And, as Micheal expected, they accepted his challenge.

Was it realistic of them to allow something like that?

Not really.

This was supposed to be a Ranking Tournament for all of their new disciples, not just Micheal. But, in the end, Micheal was still the 'Main Character' of this dreamworld. Everything worked out, regardless of whether or not it logically made sense. The whole point of this place was to challenge Micheal and allow Yvvtal to see the extent of his talents and Physique, to gauge whether or not he would be a good target.

What Micheal asked for still fell within the guidelines of the King's Challenge. He might be pushing the limits, and definitely toeing the line, but it was still within acceptable bounds.

And thus, here he was now. Standing on a stage that had just been expanded by several dozen meters in all directions, large enough now to accommodate 200+ other warriors.

"Prepare yourself, warriors! The first battle of the Ranking Tournament shall begin on my mark!" Chief Instructor Borbo's voice boomed out loud as he called out from the sidelines. He and the other instructors had moved off to the four corners of the hastily expanded stage, preparing themselves to stop any fatal injuries, accurately reflecting what would happen in reality.

Micheal took a deep breath and rolled his wrists. One small wooden sword lay loosely in his right hand while his left hand remained free. The blade weighed a good amount, around 50 pounds, made of some type of ultra-durable wood that Micheal didn't recognize. In his hands, the heavy blade felt light and flexible, his enhanced muscles wielding them with ease.

He adopted a posture that held his sword out to the side and his hand palm open. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned forward ever so slightly, hooking his knees down a few inches. He began to regulate his breathing as his eyes grew slightly unfocused, relying on his powerful Soul and all of his senses combined to sense the world around him.

"Ready!" Borbo's voice echoed out as he continued,

"3…"

The various Toren warriors tensed up as they glared at Micheal, mindless juvenile anger and irritation painted on their faces.

"2…"

Muscles bulged in the veritable army of powerful warriors as all of the ones set close to Micheal readied themselves to charge into an immediate offensive.

"1…"

The tension between Micheal and the Torens reached a peak, a long pregnant pause forming as everyone froze, prepared to leap into motion.

"FIGHT!"

The Torens attacked.

The closest fighters to Micheal were all ones close to his age or younger. The Instructors had set the field up so that the first warriors to reach him would be in either the 'Child' or 'Half-Grown' grown stages, a small element of progressive fairness.

However, despite their relative youth, one and all still possessed the bodies of an eventual Deity-Class race.

Thus, Micheal opted to hold back nothing as a trio of male Torens that looked to be around 14 to 16 years old reached him.

"Die!" The first Toren shouted a line Micheal had heard all too many times as the fighter lunged forward with a long wooden spear. The attack was filled with explosive power, a very accurate and trained strike for someone so young.

The second Toren took advantage of that moment to lash out with a heavy broadsword from behind, aimed at Micheal's back. This attack cut forward quickly and skillfully, with few wasted movements.

The third Toren wielded two large wooden axes. While the other two Torens were attacking from the front and back, he jumped up into the air and lashed down with the hatchets, aimed directly at Micheal's head.

All three had coated their attacks with Basic Tier Sword Energy.

It was a vicious pincer attack right from the start, aimed at leaving Micheal with no time to plan. For warriors that were so young, they showed ample talent and thoughtful planning.

'They really aren't half bad.' Micheal thought as he took a small step forward and leaned his body ever so slightly to the side. In the same movement, he raised his left hand and reached out towards the ferociously incoming spear.

The next moment, the impossible seemed to happen.

Micheal's hand latched down onto the head of the spear with a vice-like grip. The head of the weapon was mere inches from piercing through his body when he grabbed ahold of it.

It was common knowledge that Sword Energy was ferociously sharp.

Torens had bodies that were practically divine, even down here on the Second, meaning they could take a hit from Basic Tier Sword Energy head-on and survive handily.

This was energy that could boost the sharpness of a sword such that it could cut into and harm Morenkai. Blocking it with one's body meant one had either insane courage or insane defensive prowess.

In the case of the Toren Race, it was the latter. In Micheal's case, however…

It was neither.

A gleam of red light flashed around Micheal's fingers as he grasped firmly onto the wooden spearhead…

And then shattered it.

He obliterated the Basic Tier Sword Energy and the magical wood in a single motion, using his abnormally fine control of his Advanced Tier Sword Energy to empower his hand itself. Splinters of wood shot out into the air from the destroyed spear, coating the ground beneath Micheal in small wooden shavings as they fluttered down.

Micheal didn't stop there, however. As soon as he destroyed the spear, he quickly stepped forward, ignoring the shocked expression of the spear-wielder. His unexpected movement brought him directly within range of the first Toren.

This quick advance also brought him just out of range of the broadsword-wielding Toren's attack.

He then jutted his left elbow forward, his entire body aimed precisely as he targeted a specific point on the teenager's chest. A loud 'thud' echoed out as the blow slammed directly into the Toren.

And half a second later, the Toren collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The Toren Tribe was famed for their extremely powerful bodies. However, that didn't mean that they had no weaknesses and were invincible.

Just like humans, Torens had their own unique set of pressure points. These points on a Toren, however, were part of the magical setup of their Physique.

On the face of it, these pressure points weren't actually weaknesses at all. In fact, they functioned as a solid wall. Each pressure point had the power to magically resonate with the Ki in a Toren's body, reinforcing any part of their skin that was severely stressed. This fast-acting reinforcement was a large part of why their natural defenses were so famed.

Micheal knew all of this extremely well. In fact, he knew a great deal about every single one of the 12 Tribes of Deities. From minor details about their Physiques to major knowledge about their Titles and techniques, Micheal had a vast store of knowledge when it came to any and all enemies the human race faced.

As a warrior that was constantly trying to catch up to the geniuses that had raced ahead in the First Wave, especially with their multi-year advantage, he had devoted much of his life in the 7 Layers to not only growing more powerful, but also to learning any and everything he could on how to take advantage of his foes.

And from that store of knowledge, Micheal knew a way to use a Toren's Physique against them.

The moment his elbow made contact with the Toren teenager's chest, Micheal's entire arm vibrated for a split second. In that moment, he ran a tiny line of Ki Energy through his arm and, at the very end, exploded forth with a very small amount of Advanced Tier Sword Energy in a wave-like pattern.

The cumulative result was an extremely fine and precise impact. Despite his use of Sword Energy, the blow was not at all sharp. Micheal used the powerful energy to shred the small drop of Ki he sent through his arm, causing it to fracture and explode. The combination of extremely sharp Sword Energy and steady Earth Tier Ki knocked against one of the six 'Core' pressure points a Toren had.

This concussive 'shock' overloaded the Core pressure point and sent a wave of electrical signals surging in a Toren's body. For the 14 or 15 year old Toren that had just taken the brunt of that attack, it was like an unstoppable meteor blasting into his brain. He simply wasn't trained to deal with something like that and was instantly knocked unconscious.

This type of tactic was a lot like hitting a human on the chin, just right, in boxing. If you aimed it correctly, with the proper amount of force, your enemy's body would suffer from an impact that shocked their mind, causing them to collapse.

It was decently effective against weaker Torens. Against stronger Torens at the Lord or King Tier of Ki Cultivation, such a tactic was an exercise in futility. Their bodies were far too powerful, even considering these 'vulnerable' spots. As for humanity, given that humans didn't even have a Physique to empower their bodies in the first place, there was little need for Torens to focus on anything other than basic physiology.

Mortal, Earth, and Sky Tier Torens were those among their race had yet to fully experience the significant transition that happened when one reached the Lord Tier of Ki Cultivation. This weakness, in fact, was one of the main reasons they weren't considered a 'true' member of the Tribes of Deities until later on.

And this weakness was something Micheal intended to take full advantage of.

In the same movement Micheal used to attack and take the first Toren down, he also swung his right hand upward, pulling the wooden sword he was using up towards the two wooden axes that were hurtling towards his head.

Instead of blocking them directly, while Micheal was simultaneously elbowing the first Toren, he used his blade to tap on each axe in a rapid-fire motion. Each time he hit one of the weapons, he stabbed into the hatchet with a sliver of Advanced Tier Sword Energy.

On here, instead of exploding a tidbit of Ki, Micheal simply sheared into the axes and destabilized their movements. As a result, the axe-wielding Toren stumbled as both of his blows swung wide.

For a single, split second, the axe-wielding Toren froze up at the unexpected result.

A tiny moment later, he collapsed on the ground face-forward after taking a rapid punch to the chest from Micheal, knocked unconscious just like the first Toren.

The third and final broadsword-wielding Toren had overextended himself on his missed swing. Micheal's strikes against the first two Torens had finished so quickly that the last attacker had not yet had time to fully recover.

By the time the third Toren did manage to pull back his blade, the last thing he saw was a white hand sailing through the air to collide with his chest, and then a flash of white light and a wave of darkness as he fell to the floor, overwhelmed.

All of this took place in the span of less than two seconds. Three furious attacks, three calm deflections, and three young, fallen Toren warriors, all in a fraction of the time it took to take a single breath.

There was a startled pause from the rest of the young Toren warriors as they saw Micheal basically one-shot the first attackers with incredible ease. This bought Micheal a couple of seconds of respite, enough time to gauge the reactions of those around him.

The younger Torens now seemed much more uncertain, while the older ones seemed more cautious. There were several that looked more excited and exuded hints of bravado, while some that seemed to fade almost to the background as they changed their attack plans.

A veritable army of super-strong attackers stood still for a brief moment, acknowledging Micheal's strength.

These warriors were by no means weak. They were powerful, stronger than most humans. Their techniques were well trained and even the youngest had a solid martial arts foundation.

But as Micheal looked out among them, his blood began to boil. Memories tugged at his consciousness as a feeling of raw excitement flooded his body, one that was no longer heavily constrained by minuscule physical stats. A type of excitement that he hadn't felt ever since he came back to the past, emotions that filled his heart to the brim.

It wasn't just the lure of battle and the draw of the fight.

It was back to challenging competent warriors, heavily trained fighters that outstripped him in strength. Facing down impossible challenges while surrounded by foes, battling against odds where he could rely on only two things.

His determination and his own skill.

The Torens resumed their charge, blocking out his vision as a swarm of mighty enemies blitzed him.

Micheal's face lit up as his eyes glowed with energy, gazing upon the world around him. The muscles in his arms and legs bulged as he drew out every iota of strength his body had, pulling forth his full potential.

He could see it. Feel it. Sense it.

The flow of battle, dozens of bodies moving in complex patterns, shifting all around him in an ever-changing mire of war. The echoes of combat, the harsh screech of shattered stone, the rippling sensation of exploding energy. The feelings soared through his very Soul itself, a familiar call that had almost become a part of him.

A call of elegant control, of masterful design, of precise destruction…

An army of future Gods charged forth, bloodlust causing the air itself to tremble as the ground beneath them shattered.

And before that army stood a single man.

Alone.

Unbroken.

Defiant.

The world itself seemed to stand still as the Toren warriors crossed the arena, just instants from smashing into Micheal. Their charge cracked the stone floor, sending up shards of shattered stone and coating the air in a grey haze.

Micheal had returned to his original stance. His right hand held his sword off to the side, while his left hand faced outward, palm open. His body relaxed slightly, the tension within it fading as he leaned forward.

In the final moment before the first half dozen Torens reached him…

Micheal began to smile.

And when they finally did reach him...

He began to dance.

.

"What a monster…" Instructor Borbo's voice held a hint of shock and sounded so genuine, Micheal might have thought he was a real person, as the Toren looked upon the scene before him.

It was a veritable slaughter.

In the first second of the battle…

Micheal dodged a sword slash thrust towards his head by millimeters while simultaneously leaning just out of range of a smashing kick. In the same movement, he reached out and grabbed the back of the second Toren's knee all while raising his blade in his other hand.

He twisted the second attacker's leg in a throwing motion, using the Toren's momentum against him as he flipped the man forward. In the meanwhile, his wooden sword snaked out and stabbed the first Toren attacker right in the chest, avoiding the man's sword.

The first Toren immediately collapsed, his sword flying wide, while the second Toren slammed into two other Torens that had been just about to attack Micheal. Before the second Toren could get up, however, a stabbing pain ran through his chest and his eyes rolled up, falling unconscious as Micheal blasted through one of his pressure points.

The two Torens that Micheal had downed with the throw suffered similar fates as they tried to get up, both instantly knocked back down without a chance to resist.

In a single second, already four more enemies had been taken down with incredible ease. To the onrushing Torens, it simply made no sense. Even to the watching Instructor, everything Micheal did defied logic.

He knew, better than anyone else, that Micheal's body was not comparable in terms of strength to these attacking Torens. Even more so, the defensive prowess of his body was even worse. Torens had skin so tough they could tank hits from Advanced Tier Sword Energy and keep going, while a simple touch of that energy would slice through Micheal like butter.

Lower level Torens had a weak spot, it was true. But that was only in the context of how incredibly tough they were.

If one compared a human wearing a full suit of nearly impenetrable armor with a human that was naked, the human with the set of nearly impenetrable armor would be vastly more powerful.

Was the armor perfect? No, it had a couple of very small holes. But compared to the human without armor, the number of weak spots was vastly smaller. Targeting them was no easy feat.

Add on tons of extra strength, regeneration prowess, and enhanced talent, and that was a good description of the Toren Race.

But despite all of that, Micheal was handing these attacking Torens like they were children.

10 more seconds passed.

The clashes of combat echoed forth, grunts of pain, thuds of weapons off of stone or flesh, cracking stone as powerful beings moved quickly.

In that time, 30 more Toren bodies were added to the pile, all knocked unconscious near the center of the arena.

Every movement Micheal made was full of grace. Instructor Borbo was at his wit's end as he watched this, unable to reconcile what he was seeing.

Micheal made impossible dodges multiple times a second. He avoided death by the skin of his teeth over and over, causing attacks that seemed sure to hit him miss by a hair. He seemed to swim through the air itself, moving both slowly and quickly at times in fluid movements that could not be stopped.

His movements were a thing of beauty, delicate and strong in different ways. It was truly a dance, but one of death and destruction, guided forth by his seemingly omnipresent hand.

He was unstoppable.

Several times, groups of Toren fighters tried to surround him, attempting to use their overwhelming numbers to take him down in a mad rush. Each time this happened, Micheal would skillfully retreat, sometimes even flipping up through the air as he perfectly slipped through various gaps or creating his own openings with sheer skill. No matter how hard the crowd of Torens tried, they were unable to successfully keep him pinned down.

The Torens might be a powerful race, but they, just like the Byrens, were also a race obsessed with honor and the appearance of honor. The inexperience most of these Torens had when it came to group combat targeting a single skilled foe became very clear as the battle progressed. Some of them even seemed to be waiting almost in turn for Micheal to finish fighting each foe, something that caused Micheal to snort half in amusement, half in appreciation.

As the 40th Toren's body hit the floor, there was a brief lull in the combat.

Micheal's breath was cool and relaxed as he took advantage of this lull to take a closer look at the surrounding Torens, analyzing everything around him. He was exerting himself, especially in such a high-level fight, but his body was strong enough that he could hold his own for now.

With his powerful Soul and current capabilities, Micheal could innately sense anyone within 23 meters of him. When he zeroed in on his senses, putting his full focus and attention into the fight, that sensation evolved into one that let him sense his immediate surroundings within battle itself.

Not only could he feel the flow of battle, he also knew exactly where his opponent's foot would land, he could tell exactly where an axe was going to hit him, where a sword would stab.

Part of this had to do with his vast experience as a Swordmaster and his own battle experience and talent. Micheal had never considered himself a genius in most regards. He was coldly neutral when it came to gauging his own talents.

He knew he was at least somewhat exceptional when it came to training his Sword Mastery, especially as he grew to understand it more and more.

His determination was also definitely exceptional when he compared it to other people, as were a few other quirks of his personality.

However, if there was one thing he knew he did better than almost anyone else, it would have to be in regards to fighting against many foes at once.

Facing a single enemy was a unique challenge in its own right. You had to focus purely on their talents, capabilities, Abilities, and the surroundings as you dueled them. In most situations, the end result of the battle would come about based on your individual capabilities versus theirs.

However, everything was thrown on its head when you fought multiple enemies.

You had to account for their coordination, you had to account for many different levels of Abilities, of tactics, of differing strengths and weaknesses. The entire feel for a duel against many enemies was completely different from that of a duel against a single foe. They were incomparable.

In Micheal's head, however… a vast battle like this transformed into a simple puzzle in his mind, one that merely needed to be solved, step by step.

A dozen thoughts would flash into his mind every second, each one guided by his instincts built up over the years.

'If I dodge this attack in this way, I'll be slightly open here. However, if I use my opponent's strike to shift my body in this way, I can turn that opening into an attack here. Then I'll lean forward slightly here and use that attack to strike against my next enemy, and then I can create an opening to knock them unconscious there. But then I'll need to…"

All Micheal needed to do was bring the correct pieces of the puzzle together. Under his guiding hand, each piece fit together snugly, resulting in a masterful, but simplistic, crafting of a complex battle.

He didn't pursue the appearance of grace or beauty in his battle movements. What he sought after were cold, logical strikes that achieved exactly what he needed. And it was those strikes that, somehow, ended up giving him this graceful and beautiful combat style, the most optimal route when it came to fighting large groups.

The lull in the battle vanished.

The Gods of tomorrow, arrayed in a fighting force that no human could easily match, began their attack anew. The various Toren warriors rushed forward in the dozens fearlessly, letting out blood-curdling battle calls.

And in the dozens they yet fell, conquered by a single man.

Micheal's enemies were ones he placed at various skill levels. Some of them were well-trained beginners, while others were capable of giving him pause for a second or two, able to respond to his well-placed movements.

None of them, however, were anything close to what he considered an equal.

Still, a feeling of deep, rich enjoyment serenaded Micheal's Soul as he fought against so many skilled enemies, enjoying this moment through to the very fabric of his existence.

100 Toren bodies hit the floor.

By now, Micheal's breath had grown ragged. His body was superhumanly strong, but against so many enemies that all held near-divine bodies, even he couldn't fight forever.

Still, he continued to fight adeptly, pulling out the maximum potential he could from his knowledge and experience.

He never directly blocked any attacks, instead preferring to use his enemy's power against them, letting them throw their own forces into disarray. He danced between foes, knocking them unconscious with the speed of a slithering snake striking down her enemies.

A few times, some of the Torens had come up with more coordinated assault plans. However, all Micheal needed was a single chink in their planning, a single opening he could take advantage of.

It was after he took down the 122nd Toren that Micheal ran into the first real challenge of the battle.

Each wave of Torens was typically a haphazard rush of warriors. While their attacks came in well-disciplined, it was very clear that few of them had trained to fight in large groups, something Micheal took full advantage of. Only so many Torens could attack him at once, after all.

However, as the numbers were whittled down, one group of Torens rose to the challenge, one that caused Micheal to pause.

There were six Torens, about the maximum that could realistically attack Micheal at once. All of these Torens were of the 'Grown' age group, or adult Torens that had full mastery of their body.

These six Torens spread out around Micheal in a close-knit group. Instead of the mad rush that had dominated the last several seconds, these Torens forced those behind them to wait as they stalked forward.

'Solid coordination.' Micheal's breath might be ragged due to strain, but he moved as graceful as he had before, keeping his attention split between all six.

All six of the Torens wielded two sets of swords, one in each hand. All of them were hunched slightly forward in a wide stance, their knees bent and their arms slightly raised. Their blades were held at perfectly equal heights and turned a little outward. Micheal's eyes narrowed slightly when he saw this.

Among the Toren Race, there were three official 'Schools' of Swordsmanship that had earned themselves a certain level of prestige. The Fast Shadow Sword, the Sword Style of the Sun and Moon, and the Wavering Blade Style.

These six Torens had adopted the first stance of the Sword Style of the Sun and Moon, Rending Earth.

Micheal had always been a proponent of mixing up various techniques and styles in many different ways. He had never named his own style of swordcraft, because it wasn't an individual style on its own. It combined hundreds of techniques and was ever-changing, adapting to any situation using his own mind.

This style of fighting was not the norm. Very few people could do what Micheal did, adapting to every battle in his own way, combining the study of thousands of different techniques and movements altogether in an instant, without hesitation.

Instead, most martial artists fought by studying a set number of techniques over and over, and incorporating them not only into their muscle memory but also into their mind. They then fell back on these techniques during battle, relying upon them to help counter their enemy and lead them to victory.

Not all warriors fought like that, but in general, a small number of techniques that a fighter practiced over and over were the bedrock of most warriors' fighting styles.

This particular stance was one built on stability, able to overcome a number of threats and react to them quickly. It would be tough to break through directly, especially when approached by six users of it. It was a solid defensive stance.

However, when Micheal saw this, the small smile on his face grew slightly wider. A feeling of anticipation filled his bones, his eyes alighting.

'Excellent!' This was exactly what he had been waiting for.

Micheal watched as the group steadily approached. The Torens moved step by step, keeping their full, undivided attention on Micheal. Their cautious movements gave Micheal a couple of seconds to catch his breath, something he had no intention of turning down.

Just moments before they reached him, Micheal let out a small 'ah,' an exclamation, as if he had just undergone a moment of inspiration.

A moment later…

He adopted the exact same stance, identical in every fashion.

.