Arata and Divine’s eyes lock in a moment of intense focus. The air between them seems to crackle with energy as both warriors size each other up. Divine’s muscles tense, and with a barely perceptible shift of her weight, she vanishes from her spot, her form blurring as she moves at lightning speed.
Arata’s eyes widen in shock, his pupils dilating as his brain struggles to process her sudden disappearance. He instinctively raises his arms, his fingers splayed and muscles coiled, attempting to guard against the inevitable attack. His body tenses, his legs shifting to stabilize his stance, but it’s too late.
Divine reappears beside him, her form solidifying in an instant. Her leg is already in motion, her foot cutting through the air with deadly precision. The sound of her movement is almost silent, a faint whisper against the dungeon’s oppressive silence. Her kick connects with Arata’s side, the impact resonating through his body like a sledgehammer.
Arata’s breath catches in his throat as pain erupts from the point of contact, a shockwave that travels through his torso. His arms, still half-raised, falter as the force of the blow lifts him off his feet. His fingers twitch involuntarily, hands desperately trying to grab onto anything to anchor himself, but there’s nothing to hold on to.
His body is sent flying backward, limbs flailing helplessly as the momentum carries him across the dungeon. His head snaps back, eyes squinting shut in reflex as he braces for the inevitable impact.
The world around him becomes a blur of stone and dust as he crashes into the rock wall with a bone-jarring thud. His back takes the brunt of the collision, the force of it reverberating through his spine. The jagged edges of the rock dig into his flesh, and the impact is so powerful that it sends cracks spiderwebbing through the stone behind him.
His mouth opens in a silent scream of pain, air forced out of his lungs as he gasps for breath. “FUCK!” he finally manages to yell, the word torn from his throat, raw with pain and frustration. His teeth clench, and his jaw tightens as he tries to push the agony to the back of his mind.
The rock ahead of him shatters under the sheer force of his collision, debris scattering across the ground in a cloud of dust and small stones. Arata’s body slumps against the wall, momentarily stunned. His arms hang limply at his sides, fingers twitching as he struggles to regain control. His legs, having absorbed some of the impact, tremble slightly, knees buckling as he fights to stay upright.
His eyes, though glazed with pain, remain locked onto Divine, a mixture of shock, anger, and determination burning in their depths. He grits his teeth, his chest heaving as he forces himself to stand, the pain in his back throbbing with each movement. The dungeon falls into an uneasy silence, the echoes of the collision fading, leaving only the heavy sound of Arata’s labored breathing.
“Come on, you’re not dead yet. You reacted to my kick and even blocked it.” Divine’s voice is sharp, almost taunting, as she stands a few paces away from Arata, her form poised with lethal grace. The corners of her lips curl into a slight, mocking smile as she surveys him, half-buried beneath the debris of the shattered wall.
Arata, still surrounded by the crumbled remains of stone, winces as he begins to move. His fingers dig into the rubble, knuckles whitening as he pushes the larger pieces aside. Dust clings to his skin and clothes, the gritty texture irritating but ignored. His muscles protest, sore from the impact, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to rise. As he straightens up, he winces slightly, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering pain, his back throbbing from where it had slammed against the wall.
The Queen, observing from her vantage point, narrows her eyes in disbelief. “What… Arata… When did he become so quick to react at that speed?!” Her voice trembles slightly, betraying her surprise and unease. She watches as Arata, though battered, shows no signs of backing down.
Arata brushes the dust from his clothes with firm, deliberate motions, his hands sweeping across his chest and arms, trying to regain some semblance of composure. His breath comes in deep, controlled inhales, trying to steady the adrenaline-fueled pounding of his heart. He flexes his fingers, feeling the roughness of his palms, and clenches them into fists, the tendons in his forearms tightening like coiled springs.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that to have such an impact,” Arata mutters under his breath, his voice low and tinged with the remnants of the pain he’s still feeling. He exhales sharply, the breath whistling through his teeth, and his expression hardens as he locks eyes with Divine once more. His gaze is intense, filled with determination, as he squares his shoulders, his body now fully upright and ready for the next clash.
“Right, let’s go,” he declares, his tone firm and resolute. He plants his feet firmly on the ground, the muscles in his legs coiling with tension, ready to propel him forward at a moment’s notice. His fists remain clenched, knuckles white, the veins on his forearms bulging slightly as he channels his energy into every fiber of his being.
Divine’s eyes narrow, her smile widening into a smirk as she suddenly moves, her form blurring as she accelerates to lightning speed. The ground beneath her barely stirs as she rockets towards him, her movements almost too fast for the eye to follow. Arata’s eyes widen as he sees her vanish, and his senses sharpen, every nerve on high alert.
“Right, now’s the time to use the wind to my advantage,” Arata thinks to himself, his mind racing. “She has too much speed, but if I can predict where she’s attacking from using the wind…” He focuses on the faintest shifts in the air around him, the way the currents move, trying to sense Divine’s approach
“Tsch!” Arata grits his teeth, a mix of frustration and disbelief flooding his senses as he notices Divine still standing amidst the swirling dust, though her arms hang at unnatural angles, visibly damaged from his earlier attack. His breath catches, eyes narrowing as he tries to understand how she’s still moving. That’s when the realization hits him like a cold wave.
“You can… Regenerate?” Arata’s voice quivers slightly, the shock evident as he watches the faint glow around Divine’s limbs, the slow but undeniable mending of her broken bones and torn flesh. His chest tightens, and a flicker of uncertainty crosses his features.
Divine’s lips curl into a wicked smirk, her eyes glinting with malicious amusement. She doesn’t even bother responding with words, letting her smirk and the visible regeneration speak for themselves. Arata’s stomach churns, the situation growing more dire with every passing second.
“FUCK!” Arata curses, the word exploding from him as he tries to retreat, his instincts screaming for him to create distance. He pivots sharply on his heel, his body twisting as he attempts to dodge behind Divine. But she’s faster—so much faster.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Divine’s foot lashes out with a speed that defies belief, her leg a blur of motion as she spins and delivers a crushing kick to Arata’s face. The impact is brutal, his head snapping to the side as the force of the blow sends him airborne. His vision blurs, stars bursting in his eyes as pain explodes across his face. His neck twists sharply, and his arms flail uselessly as he’s hurled backward, his body colliding with the cold, unforgiving stone of another wall.
The breath is driven from Arata’s lungs as he slams into the wall, the solid stone buckling under the force of his impact. His body crumples to the ground, limbs limp, the pain radiating through him in sharp, agonizing waves. His mind is a haze of agony, and his vision swims, the edges darkening as unconsciousness begins to creep in.
Divine watches him fall, her eyes cold and unfeeling. She begins to walk towards his prone form, her movements graceful yet predatory, like a cat stalking its prey. “Is that the full extent of your power?” she asks, her voice dripping with disdain as she steps closer. “If that’s the case… I shouldn’t be worried about you. I should just kill you right away.” Her tone is icy, filled with the certainty of someone who has already decided the outcome.
Arata’s body lies motionless, his chest rising and falling shallowly as the darkness threatens to claim him. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, staining the ground beneath him. His fists, once tightly clenched, now lay open, fingers twitching slightly as he hovers on the edge of consciousness.
Suddenly, a voice slices through the air, filled with desperation and fury. “FREEZE!” The Queen’s scream echoes through the dungeon, her voice filled with the last reserves of her strength. She thrusts her hand forward, summoning spikes of ice that shoot through the air towards Divine, each one gleaming with deadly intent.
Divine’s eyes flicker toward the incoming attack, her expression unchanging as she raises her hand. With a casual flick of her wrist, she swats at the ice spikes, her arm a blur as she shatters them into countless shards. The ice disintegrates before it even reaches her, the fragments scattering harmlessly to the ground.
The Queen watches in horror as her attack is effortlessly neutralized. Her knees buckle, the pain and exhaustion catching up with her all at once. She collapses to the ground, her legs giving out beneath her, her body trembling with the strain. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, each one more labored than the last as she struggles to keep her eyes open, her strength nearly depleted.
Divine, unfazed, continues her advance, her gaze fixed on Arata’s unconscious form, her expression cold and merciless.
“Man, you all are just weak with no strength. All you guys do is use your stupid attacks and do nothing to me with your minuscule mana.” Divine’s voice cuts through the air, laced with contempt as she surveys the battlefield. Her eyes linger briefly on each fallen and struggling figure, including the unconscious Arata. Her lips curl into a disdainful sneer, her posture relaxed yet dripping with an air of superiority. She stands tall, shoulders squared, exuding an aura of invincibility as she stares down her defeated opponents.
“I am bored,” she continues, her tone shifting from boredom to a sinister calm. Each word is precise, deliberate, carrying a weight of finality. “I’m just going to start by killing off the strongest of you bunch.” With that, she begins to move, her footsteps echoing ominously through the dungeon. Her gait is slow, unhurried, as if savoring the moment, the soft clack of her heels on the stone floor serving as a grim countdown.
Arata lies motionless, his body splayed awkwardly on the cold, hard ground. His chest barely rises and falls with shallow breaths, his face pale and slack. The debris from the earlier battle still surrounds him, a testament to the ferocity of the clash. His once-bright eyes are closed, his fists unclenched, lying limply by his sides.
“St…op…” The Queen’s voice is barely a whisper, her words strained as she tries to summon the last vestiges of her strength. Her body trembles with the effort, her muscles quaking as she attempts to push herself up. Her arms shake uncontrollably, barely able to hold her weight, and her legs remain useless beneath her, too battered to respond. The exhaustion from depleted mana and the agony of her injuries overwhelm her, her head drooping forward as she struggles to stay conscious.
But before Divine can reach Arata, three familiar figures drop from above, landing with a coordinated thud in front of him, forming a protective barrier. Divine halts, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the sight of the newcomers. Her gaze flickers from one to the next, assessing their presence with a cool, calculating stare.
“Two Undergrounders and a Ringmaster, I see,” Divine remarks, her voice devoid of surprise, though her posture shifts slightly, the relaxed demeanor replaced with a faint tension, like a predator recognizing potential challengers. Her eyes gleam with a mixture of curiosity and disdain as she stares at the three figures now standing between her and Arata.
Uriel, his wings half-extended and bristling with energy, keeps his gaze locked on Divine. His fists are clenched, his knuckles white, as he stands at the ready, muscles coiled with tension. Lance, slightly behind and to the right of Uriel, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his stance low and balanced, fingers twitching near the hilt of his weapon. His eyes dart between Uriel and Divine, calculating their next move. Jennifer, already transformed into her Bat Ringmaster form, hovers slightly above the ground, her wings flapping slowly, each movement precise and controlled. Her eyes are narrowed, lips set in a determined line as she locks onto Divine.
“Uriel…” Lance’s voice is low, barely above a whisper, as he leans slightly toward Uriel, his tone tinged with urgency. “I hope our backup arrives in time… She’s too strong for us.” His eyes flicker with unease, his fingers flexing nervously around the grip of his weapon.
“Don’t worry,” Jennifer interjects, her voice firm despite the tension in the air. Her wings flutter slightly, sending a soft breeze through the space. “Butter told us she’ll get the backup. We just need to stall.” Her expression is resolute, her body held in a tense, ready position as she stares down Divine, her determination unwavering.
Divine’s eyes flash with recognition as she focuses on Uriel. “You… Divine…” Uriel begins, his voice low but steady as he steps forward, his gaze unwavering despite the danger looming before them. “You’re one of the Four Warlords of the King, right? Why the hell are you in Sheena’s body? What the hell did you do to her?” His voice rises slightly, his fists tightening as he struggles to keep his composure, the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.
Meanwhile, miles away in a decrepit, abandoned house, Butter and Cheese stand before a massive, imposing figure, their expressions a mix of determination and desperation. Butter leans heavily on Cheese, her body trembling from exhaustion, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her usual bright demeanor is subdued, replaced with a grim resolve as she stares up at Thronjaw.
“We need your help, Thronjaw…” Butter’s voice is strained, her words laced with urgency as she pleads with the towering figure before her. She sways slightly, barely able to keep her balance without Cheese’s support.
Thronjaw, standing with his back partially turned to them, casts a sideways glance over his shoulder, his face partially obscured by shadow. His eyes, cold and indifferent, flicker briefly with recognition before he turns away, his massive frame filling the small room with an intimidating presence. “Go away. You guys aren’t allowed in my territory,” Thronjaw growls, his voice deep and resonant, the words echoing through the dilapidated walls. His posture is stiff, his shoulders rigid as he dismisses them, his attention seemingly focused elsewhere.
“It’s Arata… He’s in danger,” Butter pleads, her voice cracking slightly as she tries to keep her composure. Her grip tightens on Cheese’s arm, her eyes wide and imploring as she gazes up at Thronjaw. “Help him… Or else he’ll die…” Butter’s voice breaks at the last word, the desperation clear in her tone.
Thronjaw’s expression hardens for a moment, a flicker of emotion crossing his otherwise stoic face. He remains silent, his gaze fixed on the sky outside the window, lost in thought. The tension in the room is palpable as Butter and Cheese await his response, their hearts pounding in their chests.
Finally, Thronjaw lets out a long, weary sigh. “That guy… Can’t he stay out of trouble?” he mutters, almost to himself, as he finally turns to face them fully. His eyes, now softer, meet Butter’s, a mix of resignation and resolve in his gaze. He glances once more out the window at the sky, his brow furrowing slightly as he makes his decision.