Ethan's group fought their way to the tenth floor, where they faced a formidable obstacle.
Grant, the battle department head of Griffin, stood before them. He was a giant of a man, wielding a large axe that gleamed with menace.
Ethan could have easily defeated him, but he didn't want to waste time.
"Roark, handle him." He ordered, gesturing to Emily and a few other members to follow him.
"As you command, sir." Roark replied. He was the leader of team Alpha, known for his skillful spear techniques.
"You're all underestimating me too much." Grant sneered, feeling insulted by their disregard.
"We'll see about that." Roark retorted, pointing his spear at him.
The battle began, a symphony of contrasting forces. Grant's raw strength met Roark's finesse and agility, each fighter displaying their prowess in a captivating dance of combat.
Roark's spear cut through the air with swift precision, targeting the gaps in Grant's defense, looking for weaknesses in the armor that shielded the battle department head. With calculated movements, Roark circled around Grant, dodging the massive swings of the axe that could crush anything in its way.
Grant, a towering figure, swung the huge axe with the grace of a seasoned warrior. Each strike was a demonstration of immense power, creating shockwaves that shook the floor. The sound of steel clashing echoed through the chamber as Roark skillfully avoided, the air vibrating with the intensity of their duel.
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Despite Roark's agility, Grant's experience and strength were formidable. He anticipated Roark's moves, adjusting his attacks to match the nimble spearman's steps. The battle escalated, the floor quivering with the sheer force of their confrontation as sparks flew from their collisions, highlighting the tension in the room.
As the fight continued, Roark's strategic brilliance became evident. His agile footwork allowed him to stay just out of reach of Grant's devastating strikes while steadily wearing down the behemoth's defenses. He seized moments of hesitation in Grant's actions, delivering precise strikes that pushed the limits of the battle department head's stamina.
"Is that all you got?" Roark mocked him.
"You rat like bastard!" Grant cursed at Roark, who dodged his attack easily.
Grant, stubborn and determined, roared with rage, doubling his efforts to land a crushing blow. But Roark's calculated finesse prevailed. With a lightning-fast series of strikes, he disarmed Grant, making the massive axe clang against the floor, sending shockwaves throughout the chamber.
He swiftly thrust his spear through Grant, finishing him off. He looked around and saw that his group members had dealt with the remaining members of Griffin and the rest of the members had moved up with Ethan.
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After defeating Madon, Norman strode across the room to the bed where Mark lay. His eyes scanned the dimly lit space, taking in the sight of his son's pale face, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. Wires and tubes connected him to various machines that beeped and blinked. Norman clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with hatred for Griffin, the guild which had caused this.
He gently touched Mark's forehead. He was still warm, but not feverish. Norman sighed with relief.
"Mia, can you try to heal him?" He asked.
"Of course, sir." Mia approached Mark carefully, her heart aching as she saw his pale face, which had always carried innocence.
She casted her spell with full power and concentration, hoping for a miracle. But nothing happened. Mark showed no signs of improvement. She fell into tears, while Dagger avoided looking at Mark, not wanting to see his lifeless expression. He felt a pang of sadness and guilt.
"Is the little master alright?" Lance asked from behind him. He had defeated the sentinels and joined them.
"He's alive, but his disease has worsened. We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible." Norman said, his voice low and tense.
"Okay, let's go, sir." Lance nodded, ready to help. He lifted Mark carefully and followed Norman out of the room.