Without waiting a second, Blaze immediately launched a counterattack, his movements so fast and precise, like lightning striking. He combined the power of burning dark flames with his gleaming sword, creating Dark Flame Strike, an attack that was not just about burning, but also designed to destroy the foundation of the opponent's magic from within, weakening the time energy that Velgrin relied on. The deep black flames enveloped his sword, pulsating with incredibly powerful energy, before finally being unleashed with full force; "Dark Flame Strike!" Blaze's shout echoed across the battlefield, signaling the start of this deadly attack. Velgrin, still reeling from the previous Void Slash attack, only had time to step back, his robe billowing as the time energy protecting him began to waver and lose stability, unable to withstand the destructive power of the dark flames. Deep black burns spread across his arm, creating excruciating pain, a burning sensation that even Velgrin's ability to control time could not heal quickly, making him flinch and realize his mistake in underestimating his opponent's strength. His eyes, which had previously radiated an overconfidence, now stared sharply at Blaze, the abilities shown by his opponent now seemed very dangerous and could no longer be underestimated. Meanwhile, Blaze remained standing tall, his sword still gleaming with black flames pulsating wildly, Violet Flash in his eyes was still shining, its influence was very strong, giving him an advantage in reading every movement of Velgrin.
The air was still vibrating from the remnants of Blaze's attack when suddenly a heavy thud echoed from behind the trees, as if the earth itself was pounding along with the rhythm of those steps. Blaze was forced to hold back his attack stance, his muscles tightening like a bowstring forced to relax. From behind him, that voice came - calm, deep, but carrying a weight like thunder held behind clouds. "I don't think you'll mind us witnessing the end of this show, Velgrin," the voice said, subtle sarcasm settling on every syllable.
Three figures emerged slowly from the shroud of forest mist, their shadows projected long on the blood-soaked ground by the light of the full moon. The first to step forward was a man with black hair tied tightly at the back, his strands shimmering bluish under the dim light like raven wings caught in the night wind. That face seemed to be carved from mountain marble: thick, coldly arched eyebrows, a crooked nose like an old sword, and pale green eyes that reflected light like frozen crystals. There were no wrinkles of anxiety, no hurried blinking. He walked casually among the lifeless bodies, the edge of his crimson robe sweeping the damp ground without hesitation, as if the death around him was just a stage decoration unworthy of attention.
His armor was not just a body protector - it was a living masterpiece of metal. The pitch-black layer with silver veins pulsed gently at every joint, adapting to the wearer's movements like a second skin. On his left shoulder, the red robe was pinned by a dragon-shaped brooch whose eyes glowed ruby red. But all that splendor paled in comparison to the sword in his right hand: the blade, as long as an adult man's arm, emitted a constant electric hiss, blue lightning striking the surface like electric snakes continuously clawing at the air. Every time the sword moved, the air around it vibrated, the smell of ozone pierced the nose mixed with the smell of hot iron.
On his left, a woman with pale silver hair moved like dew dancing on a pool of blood. Each step left a trail of silver mist, her hair as white as the moon, shimmering, reflecting the dim light like hundreds of silver needles. Her glowing green eyes narrowed slowly, her vertical pupils adjusting to the darkness like a nocturnal snake stalking prey. Her jet-black silk robe rustled softly, gold embroidery in the shape of alchemical symbols pulsed faintly with each breath - perhaps some kind of protective spell.
Her pale hand gripped tightly a crystal staff shaped like a cobra, from the snake's mouth flowed a black-purple mist that snaked across the ground like poisonous roots. When the mist touched the pool of blood near her feet, the red liquid boiled with a heart-wrenching hiss. "How beautiful this symphony of death is," she whispered in a raspy, sweet voice, a thin smile stretched to reveal her oddly bluish, pointed teeth. Her forked tongue occasionally licked the air, as if tasting the despair that hung around.
No less impressive, the figure behind them shook the earth with every step. The man, twice the height of an ordinary human, moved his muscular body like a glacier moving slowly but unstoppable. His dark skin gleamed with sweat of war, veins bulged on his neck like the roots of an old tree snaking. Although his empty hands were clasped casually, the air around him vibrated like the surface of a lake pelted with stones - every clenched muscle in his arm created a visual distortion that made his silhouette appear to sway uncertainly.
From behind his leather shirt, which was almost torn by his bulging muscles, a tattoo of a black sun on his chest pulsed rhythmically. When he stepped on the skull under his foot, it crushed into fine dust before even making a cracking sound. The smell of hot metal stung from his body, similar to iron forged at high temperatures, making the air within a three-meter radius around him feel stuffy and pressurized.
Velgrin turned towards them. "Finally you have arrived."
The black-haired man crossed his arms in front of his chest, his left eyebrow raised half-cynically while his steel-gray eyes swept the battlefield like an eagle sizing up prey. "You're not one to be easily cornered, Velgrin," he muttered in a flat intonation that made the words feel like a scalpel dissecting the situation. His hand tapped rhythmically on the hilt of the lightning-struck sword, each touch creating a small clinking that bounced between the scorched trees. "But it seems your enemy this time..." He paused for a moment, his index finger suddenly pointing at the corpse of a wide-eyed soldier near Blaze's feet, "...is quite troublesome." The last sentence was spoken while blowing a thin plume of smoke that emerged from his sword, as if the deadly tension in the air was just a casual cigarette he was smoking.
To his right, the silver-haired woman suddenly stepped lightly on a pool of blood, a small ripple on the surface of the red liquid instantly froze into a green poisonous crystal. "Perhaps it's time for us..." Her voice was like the chime of an old church bell, her hand with long, bluish fingernails twisted her crystal staff until the purple mist formed a spiral above their heads. "...to have a little fun?" The end of her sentence was accompanied by a short burst of laughter that caused three ravens on a nearby tree branch to fall dead, their beaks foaming green. Her lime green eyes narrowed in satisfaction, her forked tongue licked the air like a cat smelling milk.
Blaze unconsciously closed the distance with Forty-One, the skin on their arms tingling, not because of the cold night. Every breath of these three newcomers felt like a giant bellows pressing on the air. Forty-One gripped his weapon tightly until his knuckles turned white, feeling a magical vibration that made his molars buzz. They weren't just soldiers - it was like facing three natural phenomena taking human form. The smell of ozone from Lucian's lightning mixed with the metallic scent of dried blood from Magnus and the pungent smell of carrion flowers from Selene, creating a sensory cocktail that made the stomach churn.
Velgrin took a deep breath, his thin shoulders rising and falling dramatically, his voice suddenly resonating with unusual authority. "Lucian Drakos, the lightning swordsman." As the name was uttered, the black-haired man jerked his sword upwards. A clap of thunder roared as blue lightning struck from the sky, first hitting the tip of the blade, then spreading throughout his body without leaving a trace. "Don't be too eager," he growled at Velgrin while electric sparks still danced at the edge of his eyelashes.
"Selene Vaelis, the poison sorceress." The woman bowed dramatically while her staff carved a green fire line in the air, forming an ouroboros symbol that instantly crystallized into small snakes. "Oh darling," she whispered to a snake that coiled around her wrist, "we'll play for a while." Poison from the snake's mouth dripped to the ground, instantly corroding the stone to form a gaping hole.
"Magnus Valther, the unarmed fighter." The giant just snorted loudly, both his fists slammed together so that the shock wave forced Forty-One to maintain his balance. Cracks in the ground under his feet spread like a giant spiderweb, even the roots of the dead tree nearby were lifted to the surface. The smell of hot iron suddenly stung when the sun tattoo on his chest glowed red, his dark skin gleaming like freshly forged metal.