He was here to attract the enemy's attention, not to flatten the entire city. As such, he needed to make do with the sword currently in his hands.
Mythril was supposed to be one of the greatest ore and material for sword crafting. Not only were they an extremely good conductor of mana, they were immensely sturdy and durable, regarded as ores of the gods.
If it was this sword, it should be able to handle the burden of his current strength.
Reinhardt arched his hands back in a wide swing and focused. Lower, much lower, his strength should not exceed [High(High)], that was the best he could control right now. And so…
"[Exalted Strike]" he roared out. The skill that had once destroyed a general of one of the Twelve heavenly Kings along with the inter dimensional plane of the dungeon in one blow, was now pointed at the city gate.
A brilliant flash of white light that seemed like the dawn of a new day in the darkness of the night, covered everyone's vision. The next second…
