The white humanoid tiger's ability, the Durability Break — was absolute.
It wasn't just for show.
His wind arcs could destroy anything — flesh, bone, steel, spiritual artifacts — over time, anything solid and tangible would break under the continuous stress.
It was a force of inevitability.
Nothing lasts against it.
Nothing.
And yet now, the weapons before him, the swords Elius was using, showed no signs of surrender.
Not even a scratch.
The tiger's breath hitched for just a fraction of a second.
His pupils constricted to thin slits.
"This is wrong," he thought, his mind racing, claws twitching with suppressed anxiety.
Another furious storm of wind arcs tore through the arena—but no matter how many he unleashed, no matter how hard or fast they came,
Elius's swords remained like stars orbiting in a night sky, untouchable, invincible.
The tiger's attacks grew frantic now, losing some of the measured control he had earlier.
His feet shifted awkwardly.
