The Clash of Titans

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Izuku stood at the edge of the crater, his breathing heavy and body battered, he watched in shock as Kratos, still kneeling from the force of the Cosmic Meteor Strike, began to rise. Slowly but surely, the burns and wounds on his body started to mend themselves.

Scorched flesh was replaced with unblemished skin, and cracks in his armor repaired themselves as if they were never there. Kratos' regeneration was unnaturally swift, a testament to his high resilience.

Izuku: Of course, he regenerates, "he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice". Nothing's ever simple, is it?

Baran, seated above in the royal box of the arena, leaned back with a smug grin.

Baran: Did you really think it would be that easy, boy? He's not called the Ghost of Sparta for nothing.

Izuku clenched his fists, his thoughts racing.

Izuku: If I'm going to take him down, I'll need to find a way to bypass that regeneration.

With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed Gilgamesh and summoned the Sword of Omen, the legendary blade gleaming with a faint blue light.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku steadied himself, his blue aura intensifying. He raised the sword and took a stance, his legs bent slightly as he prepared to charge.

Izuku: Let's end this, "he said under his breath".

Kratos responded by gripping his Blades of Exile tightly, spinning them in intricate patterns before letting them rest in a ready position. His expression remained stoic, his eyes locked on Izuku with an intensity that could pierce through steel.

And then they clashed.

The speed of their combat increased dramatically, both fighters moving at such velocity that the untrained eye could only catch glimpses of their movements

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The speed of their combat increased dramatically, both fighters moving at such velocity that the untrained eye could only catch glimpses of their movements. The clang of steel against steel echoed across the arena, each impact shaking the ground beneath them.

CLANG!

SLASH!

WHOOSH!

Izuku weaved around Kratos' relentless onslaught, his movements precise yet desperate. Every swing of the Blades of Exile was a deadly arc of fire and steel, their fiery chains extending unpredictably as Kratos sought to trap Izuku.

Izuku managed to parry one of the blades with the Sword of Omen, but the sheer force behind Kratos' attack sent him skidding backward. He gritted his teeth as he dug his heels into the ground, narrowly avoiding another strike as the second blade whipped past his face.

Izuku: This isn't enough, "he muttered".

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them, revealing the swirling black-and-red pattern of the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. His vision sharpened instantly, the battlefield becoming a vivid tapestry of details. He could see the faint shifts in Kratos' stance, the slight tensing of his muscles that telegraphed his next moves.

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