Chapter 216: The Styles of the Empowered and the Mad

Aizawa gripped his scythe tightly, its chains coiling around him like a soaring dragon. With a swift spin, the blade sliced through the air, unleashing an ear-splitting howl. A violent surge of power erupted, sending a massive wave of blade energy outward. The surrounding forest trembled as the relentless storm of force expanded, consuming everything in its path.

Massive trees, once towering symbols of resilience, crumbled like fragile straw beneath the blade energy. The forest was ripped apart; ancient trees were uprooted and hurled skyward. Shattered branches and splinters filled the air like a torrential rainstorm. When the assault subsided, the ground was strewn with severed limbs and leaves, as though a great calamity had swept through.

As the dust settled, the scene became one of desolation. The ground was split open, exposed roots crisscrossing like veins, and the air reeked of the raw, sweet scent of shredded wood. The strike had decimated the forest and left an oppressive weight in the atmosphere, as if the earth itself trembled in fear.

Aizawa's cold gaze scanned ahead, falling upon Hayato, who lay prone on the ground, shielding the half-conscious Usagi beneath him. Their bodies pressed close to the ground, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. A crazed grin tugged at Hayato's lips, his eyes alight with mockery and exhilaration.

Usagi's eyes fluttered open slightly, finding Hayato mere inches from her face. Her chest rose and fell against his weight, revealing a faint curve of porcelain skin. Hayato licked his lips, his expression a mixture of triumph and twisted amusement.

Suddenly, a blur of motion cut through the air as Aizawa appeared before Hayato with astonishing speed. His scythe descended mercilessly, aiming straight for Hayato's head. But just as the blade was about to land, several daggers whizzed in from the sides, their trajectories precise and cunning.

Aizawa snorted and swiftly adjusted his strike, sweeping the scythe sideways to deflect the incoming daggers. The brief pause was all Hayato needed. He threw Usagi behind him and lunged at Aizawa with his own daggers, his movements sharp and relentless.

Aizawa sneered, "Did you think my counterattack would leave me defenseless?"

As Aizawa parried the daggers, he released one of his scythes, letting it fly along its chain in a deadly arc toward Hayato's head. The chain whipped through the air with a sharp hiss, a harbinger of death.

Hayato, however, seemed to anticipate the move. Panting heavily, a crazed grin stretched across his face as he spun his dagger in hand. At the last moment, he twisted his wrist and struck the wooden handle of the scythe at an angle, following up with a powerful kick that severed the chain.

Crack! The chain snapped, and the scythe spiraled out of control, recoiling violently. The force unleashed a torrent of energy in its wake, crushing everything in its path.

"Boom!"

The unleashed energy struck five of Aizawa's allies who had been lying in wait. Before they could scream, their upper bodies disintegrated into a crimson mist. Limbs and gore scattered across the battlefield.

Landing with eerie grace, Hayato let out a maniacal laugh, his voice slicing through the air like jagged steel. "Hahahaha! You idiot! You killed your own men! So much for your so-called 'endgame'!"

Aizawa's expression darkened, his grip tightening on his remaining scythe. His icy glare radiated palpable killing intent, while Hayato's laughter grew louder, the battlefield suffused with an eerie aura of death and chaos.

Shiji and Rinro reacted swiftly, using the blast's momentum to leap into the air and evade the blade energy's aftermath. Yet, as they observed the relentless duel between Aizawa and Hayato, their expressions grew grim. Such destruction and pressure—despite possessing overwhelming strength and speed, Aizawa couldn't subdue a lunatic who wielded only daggers. It was an unbearable humiliation.

With only three survivors left, the situation had spiraled beyond control. Fury burned in Shiji's heart, but he could do nothing.

Aizawa spared a fleeting glance at the others before refocusing on Hayato. The lost scythe flew back into his hand as if guided by unseen strings. Gripping both scythes, he accelerated suddenly, launching a barrage of ferocious slashes. Each swing of the blades created deafening shockwaves, their arcs forming an impenetrable net of death.

Hayato's deranged laughter persisted, a macabre symphony of defiance. His daggers glinted as they clashed with the scythes, each collision sparking brief flashes of light. Yet, the daggers disintegrated upon contact with Aizawa's spatial energy, shattering into glittering fragments that drifted through the air.

Still, Hayato pressed on, darting through the battlefield like a tempest. He vaulted over fallen trees and evaded chain strikes with uncanny agility. Each time a dagger was destroyed, another appeared in his grasp as if by magic, drawn from hidden pockets in his rabbit-themed jacket.

His movements were wild yet precise, his strikes rapid yet calculated. But Aizawa's onslaught was relentless. His scythes moved like extensions of his body, forming a deadly barrier that repelled Hayato's every attempt to breach his defense.

Step by step, Hayato retreated toward the edge of the battlefield. Despite his erratic motions, a keen observer would notice his deliberate maneuvering—each step calculated to set up his next strike.

But Hayato's true focus wasn't on the fight. His frenzied gaze flitted toward the insects flitting in the moonlight. He seemed more captivated by their erratic flight patterns than by the scythes aimed at his throat.

"This lunatic…" Shiji muttered, astonished by Hayato's ability to withstand Aizawa's assault. "He's reading every move and countering perfectly?"

Aizawa remained unfazed, coldly murmuring, "The threat of a madman fades with the last of his weapons."

As if on cue, Hayato's final dagger crumbled to dust. He froze momentarily, his gaze snapping back to Aizawa, who stood poised to strike. Realization dawned on Hayato's face, his manic grin twisting into an expression of panic. Without hesitation, he turned and fled, his steps frantic and uncoordinated.

Aizawa's eyes glinted coldly. Planting his feet, he erupted forward with explosive speed, shattering the ground beneath him. His blurred figure closed the distance in an instant, scythe raised high and brimming with spatial power.

"Your death is inevitable," Aizawa intoned, his voice a chilling whisper of finality.