Chapter 150: Rift & Help
The clash between Baines and the 7th Star enemy roared with unrelenting ferocity, each strike reverberating through the shattered landscape.
Twenty minutes had passed since their duel to the death began, and the battlefield bore the scars of their relentless struggle—cratered earth, scorched air, and a pervasive aura of death.
Baines, drenched in his own blood, fought with a tenacity that defied his mortal limits. His twin blades, one gleaming with a faint ethereal light and the other a bladeless hilt pulsing with raw energy, met the enemy’s daggers in a symphony of steel and sparks.
Clang... Clang... Clang...
Magic circles of decay materialized around the figure, swirling above, below, and behind, unleashing torrents of corrosive energy. Yet, the enemy’s armor, as if forged from some unholy alloy, repelled the decay with eerie resilience.
Baines faltered for a mere heartbeat, stunned by the armor’s defiance, and paid the price, a deep gash tore across his shoulder, blood spurting as the dagger bit into flesh. Instinctively, he raised the bladeless sword to parry a follow-up strike, his mind racing.
’Decay’s useless,’ Baines growled, dismissing the spell to conserve mana.
He shifted tactics, focusing on his most devastating techniques: Absolute Cut and Destruction.
With a roar, he unleashed "Black Cross," a slashing wave of dark energy that tore through the air. The figure struggled to counter, his daggers carving through the attack with difficulty, but Baines pressed the advantage.
"Bomb!" Baines shouted, conjuring an explosive sphere of raw mana that detonated against the figure’s chest. The enemy screamed, a guttural cry of rage and pain, as the blast scorched his face, flaying skin and exposing raw muscle. Yet, the armor remained unmarred, a testament to its otherworldly craftsmanship. Instead of weakening, the figure’s aura flared crimson, his movements growing faster, more savage.
In an instant, he was beneath Baines, daggers slicing in precise diagonals. Baines’ hands, gripping his swords, were lacerated before he could react. Pain seared through him as the figure drove a dagger toward the fresh wounds. To evade, Baines released his swords, which clattered to the ground with a hollow ring.
"Now, you don’t have your weapons, let’s see what you do," the figure sneered, diving forward with predatory glee. Baines couldn’t pick the sword, unless he risked his body; however, he remained calm.