"Oof, that was a close call. I couldn't contain myself back there," Luna muttered under her breath as she unshackled the chains that had bound her hands and legs. "If they hadn't activated the bomb inside my head, the outcome could have been far more dire," she reflected, offering a silent gratitude for the fortuitous turn of events. Stepping towards the door in the vast darkness of the chamber, Luna pressed onward, her resolve unyielding despite the perilous circumstances that had befallen her.

The vampire, known as Aritoria Blodian, was no ordinary being. Her emotions were a force to be reckoned with, challenging to contain. She exuded a potent aura of power and dignity, despising those who perceived her as weak or vulnerable. Above all, she carried herself with the regal air of one accustomed to command. Beautiful and immensely talented, she had achieved the remarkable feat of slaying a dragon at the tender age of fourteen. However, her demise at the hands of the Monarch of Darkness had been a testament to the formidable might of her adversary. Armed with a powerful army and five formidable knightly servants, the Monarch of Darkness was relentless, sparing none who dared to cross his path. His sole obsession lay in obtaining the elixir of life, and he viewed humans as insignificant obstacles in his quest for power. "But it's not the time to dwell on that," Aritoria reminded herself, summoning a glimmer of hope as she navigated the labyrinthine underground facility, intent on finding an escape route.

"This skill is remarkable," Luna murmured as she transformed herself into one of the guards who had escorted her. Biting her hand to draw blood, she created a puppet in her likeness, a perfect replica that obediently followed her every command. Luna fastened the chains around the clone, replicating the scene from earlier so as not to arouse suspicion.

The blood clone was an incredible ability, she mused. With sufficient blood and mana, the clones would comply without question, serving any purpose she desired. Not only did it serve as a strategic advantage in confusing opponents, but it was also a powerful offensive tool. "Aritoria was truly something else," she acknowledged silently as she made her way out of the room and into the hallway. To break free from this place before being discovered, she needed an ally who could watch her back. There were too many sources of mana from skilled individuals, and despite her newfound powers, her mana reserves were insufficient to handle them all. Identifying the abnormal behavior of a particular source within 2 kilometers below, Luna deduced it must belong to someone with unstable mana veins, likely an experiment. However, she hoped she wouldn't encounter anyone astute enough to see through her disguise. The obstacles ahead were numerous and formidable

Besides the obstacles below the surface, there loomed a formidable challenge above ground. If she were to eliminate them all and attempt an escape, she was certain they would dispatch that person, spelling an end to her plans. Hence, she realized she had to proceed with caution and employ a more subtle approach. First and foremost, she needed to locate the powerful source of pure mana that emanated from the vicinity. Her eyes shimmered with an otherworldly light, revealing a spectrum of mana and darsin that coexisted in the surroundings. Fixing her gaze on the path that would lead her to the source, she silently hoped it wouldn't turn out to be an adversary. Despite possessing abilities and powers akin to Aritoria's, courtesy of the memories she had absorbed, her own reserves of mana and darsin were significantly inferior. As she pondered, she continued forward along the path, ruminating on the best course of action.

As I drew closer to the source of the immense pure mana, I found myself at the entrance of a private office belonging to someone. As I read the name inscribed on the door, a surge of anger coursed through my veins, and an unexpected thirst for blood rose within me. The name before my eyes was none other than "Dr. Ravona Relnes."

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Amidst the chaotic debris of a collapsed building, a figure with long hair cautiously made their way through the rubble, urgently searching for signs of life. Grunts and groans echoed through the wreckage as people responded to the call for help, uniting their strength to clear the way.

"Hiron, where is everyone?" a disheveled man emerged from the rubble, his voice weary but hopeful.

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"I'm not sure, but I believe they're still alive," Hiron replied, his voice tinged with relief.

Before the man could say more, a colossal street pole hurtled toward him, sending him crashing away with a bone-jarring impact.

"Maken!" Hiron's desperate cry tore through the chaos.

From the opposite side of the road, where the pole had originated, a shadowy figure emerged, cigar in hand, a sinister smile playing across his lips. Hiron felt a shiver race down his spine, sensing an impending storm in the enigmatic stranger's gaze.

Maken made his way back trough the power of mana but he get quite injuries because of sudden unexpected attack, but non of the injury were serious.

"Hiron, you've really got to work on that swing!" Maken quipped, dodging a swift punch from the stranger, his fur bristling with energy as he lunged back into the fray.

"Easy for you to say, you oversized mutt!" Hiron retorted, a smirk playing on his lips as he deftly sidestepped a series of rapid jabs, his dagger gleaming in the flickering light.

The stranger, undeterred by their banter, unleashed a flurry of kicks, each strike calculated and precise, the sheer force of his blows creating shockwaves that reverberated through the battlefield. Dust and debris whirled around them, adding a surreal edge to the unfolding chaos.

"Hey, ugly! Is that the best you've got?" one of the gang members shouted, taking a daring leap to deliver a crushing blow with a metal pipe. The stranger merely chuckled, effortlessly evading the attack, his laughter ringing out amidst the cacophony of clashing weapons.

Meanwhile, Hiron and Maken coordinated their moves, their teamwork flowing seamlessly as they sought to find a weakness in the stranger's defenses. Maken lunged forward with primal ferocity, his teeth bared in a snarl, while Hiron circled around, searching for an opening to land a decisive strike.

"Think you can take us all on, huh?" Hiron taunted, his voice edged with determination. "Let's see if you're still smiling after this!"

With a sudden surge of combined strength, the gang members closed ranks, their weapons whistling through the air in a synchronized assault. The stranger, momentarily caught off guard, found himself pushed back, the weight of their combined might proving to be an unexpected challenge.

Yet, as the dust settled and the confrontation reached a brief lull, the stranger's grin remained unyielding, an enigmatic glint in his eye hinting at a deeper, darker purpose behind the conflict. Despite their valiant efforts, it was becoming clear that their adversary was playing a game with rules they had yet to comprehend, a revelation that sent a chill down their spines as they prepared for the next phase of the battle.

The stranger's figure pulsed with an oppressive aura as he transformed into a lion-like humanoid, exuding an even denser, more menacing "darsin" than before. The metamorphosis was a spectacle of raw power, his muscles rippling and bones reshaping, the very air crackling with an electric intensity. As his form evolved, his eyes glowed with an otherworldly ferocity, his mane bristling with a fiery energy that seemed to consume the very essence of the surrounding chaos.

"Hey, lion guy, ever heard of a dentist?" Hiron jeered, his voice laced with bravado as he lunged forward, his dagger glinting in the dim light.

The lion-like figure let out a rumbling chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he deftly evaded the strike. "I prefer my meals tenderized," he retorted, his deep voice echoing through the chaos of their battle.

Meanwhile, Meina, her hands trembling, tried to steady herself as she faced the imposing foe. "You know, you could use a spa day. That mane of yours looks a little rough around the edges," she quipped nervously, her attempt at humor falling flat in the tense atmosphere.

The King of Beasts merely flicked his tail in amusement, his gaze flickering between the fighters as they attempted to match his overwhelming power. "Perhaps I'll consider it after I'm through with all of you," he mused, his voice dripping with a predatory edge.

Goru, gritting his teeth, launched a fierce onslaught, his weapon whistling through the air with precision. "You think you're tough, huh? Well, let's see how you handle this!" he roared, his determination fueling his strikes.

Amidst the clash of metal and roars of defiance, Maken's voice rang out, a howl of determination cutting through the chaos. "Come on, you oversized kitty! Let's see what you're made of!" His werewolf form bristled with raw power, his claws leaving deep gashes in the ground as he lunged forward.

The King of Beasts met their onslaught with an almost leisurely grace, each movement calculated and precise, a display of power that seemed to mock their efforts. "You're all quite entertaining, but it's time to end this little show," he declared, his voice resonating with a chilling finality.

As the clash of powers intensified, the battlefield quaked with the sheer force of their colliding energies. Dust and debris swirled around them, adding an otherworldly aura to the confrontation, while the fighters, locked in a desperate struggle, braced themselves for the inevitable climax, the outcome of their battle poised on a knife's edge, teetering between victory and annihilation.