It's proceeding… Swoop in… A voice echoes into the group's mind.
“You heard the man. Let's go.” A vampire prince from the Demon Heart family announces as his body lifts off the ground and quickly floats into the building.
A bustling crowd of supernatural creatures followed, rushing into the building.
Taylor chugs the rest of his whisky and smashes the bottle on the ground before exhaling a spicy and burning breath. Game time. He thinks with determined eyes. Taylor didn't care too much if he lived or died in this fight. All that he cared about was going wild. As for whether the heavens would let him live to take care of his family… That wasn’t up to him. This is what Taylor gradually grew to realize on his murder-spree. Men and women weren’t in control of anything. Not their lives or whatever they perceived as a choice of free will. Everything under heaven… Taylor thinks with a sigh as he rushes into the building, numb and half-drunk.
The vanguards took care of the guards ahead while the rest pushed forward, until they were in a large inner chamber. An large array was in the center where a cloaked and hooded man stood, chanting and directing the pink energy lingering in the air.
In between their group and the array was another group, primed and ready to defend.
There was a moment of silence and few people took the chance to take a breath.
But in the end someone yelled a battle cry and the two groups charged at each other.
Taylor rushes in, his eyes wild and his blade extended. An aura of lightless black and a deep red began to emanate from him as he rushed into battle. He didn’t care who he would be matched up against, whether it was someone two stages lower than him or whether it was someone much stronger than him; even if it was someone who could insta-kill Taylor on sight, Taylor would charge in with no hesitation.
Taylor’s predator eyes landed on the enemy nearest to him and rushed in, his blade finding comfort in the man’s body as Taylor holds him close. “Too weak.” He says, his voice sounding like a snake on the hunt for food. Taylor pulls out his blade and sought out his next prey, but just as his blade frees itself a large impact landed on Taylor’s face and a sharp pain dug into his skin.
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Taylor was thrown back and he lands on the ground, a deep claw mark marring his face. Taylor slowly gets up and looks at his opponent as the irises of his eyes turn a deep shade of red. It was a werewolf, hulking over Taylor. As Taylor smells the air he could sense that this was a fitting opponent. He smiles and says nothing before rushing in.
Taylor’s body propelled forward, his blade slashing down with the weight of his body. The werewolf slashes at the blade with his claw and deflects it away before it lunges a kick into Taylor’s abdomen. Taylor is flung away but immediately gets up, numb to the pain. Taylor activates his movement technique, the Willful Wind technique, and his body quickly floats forward, gentle and soft like the wind, flowing quickly to the werewolf’s blind spots.
Taylor began to slash out repeatedly as the werewolf continued to swipe at his head and defend with its arms, the black and red aura corroding the werewolf’s skin and blood as it dug into its body. The werewolf lets out a loud howl and a golden energy barrier surrounds him, slowing Taylor’s blade and pushing it back.
Taylor frowns and a crackle is heard as red snakes of lightning begin to cover the length of his weapon; it was one of the few sword arts that Taylor practiced, called Malicious Connection. The red snakes of lightning began to grow and become erratic, and Taylor slashed out, the lightning connected with the werewolf’s body and pulled the blade in like gravity as the energy seared through the barrier. Taylor's body was now being pulled by the red snakes of lightning that connected with his blade and he followed through faithfully as he made deep cut after deep cut through the werewolf’s energy barrier. Taylor was simply too fast and the golden barrier was all the werewolf could do to defend; Taylor put all his energy into his movement technique, draining himself and not caring about the consequences. Eventually its body could no longer hold itself up and its knees bent, landing on the ground. Taylor quickly pushed his blade forward, piercing through the werewolf’s throat and ending its life.
As this occurred, a trio of stage seven fighters had ignored the group fight and rushed in to kill Hanz as he was preoccupied. A bulky seventh stage cultivator rushed in, wielding a large two-handed axe, intent on striking first.
The figure turns around and removes his hood, revealing his face. “Fools. You’re already too late.” He says with a sinister laugh.
“Fuck! It’s not Hanz.” The seventh stage cultivator yells as his axe swoops down on the mocking vampire, but just as his weapon was about to connect, a flash exploded out from the vampire's pendant and he disappears. “Shit.” The cultivator exclaims, feeling more than disappointed. “We got the wrong place.” He says bitterly in defeat.
“There’s no way we could have gotten the wrong place. We tracked all the materials carefully. They were all brought here.” A seventh stage witch says, unwilling to believe it. They were careful at every step, just for this moment. And for what? She thinks bitterly.
“It’s possible the gathering of materials was a ruse all along.” A vampire prince says with a sigh. “Hanz has been preparing for this long before we recognized what he was doing; it’s possible he had the materials for the ritual this whole time and that gathering the materials was only to create an opportunity.” The vampire explains, unable to do much but accept that they have been played. “We need to scour all known bases that they can be in. And we’ll have to call the elders. This is out of our hands now.” The vampire says, hoping that something could still be done.