Chapter 1716: Ezzekiel



Ezzekiel, the dark elf, stood with a regal posture. His features were youthful, with sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline, but his eyes betrayed years of experience and cunning. There was an unmistakable aura around him, one of confidence and authority. The intensity of spirit energy emanating from him was unparalleled; Emery had never encountered such potency in any dark elf below the rank of a grand magus.

As their eyes met, a hint of recognition flashed in Ezzekiel's eyes. "Finally, we meet," he said, the corner of his lips curling up into a wide, almost predatory smile. "Hand over the Gate to me, and in return, I promise you the mercy of a swift and painless demise."

Emery raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Seriously? That's your offer?" He paused, his gaze steady and challenging. "How about a counter-proposal? You hand over your gate, and I might just allow you the privilege of visiting it from time to time."

A flicker of irritation crossed Ezzekiel's features. He clearly hadn't expected such audacity. Yet, beneath that fleeting annoyance, the excitement in his eyes remained, undiminished.

As the tension between the two thickened, there was a faint rustling sound. From the shadows beyond the citadel walls, two figures emerged. The presence of the other dark elves was immediately discernible — they were Void Stalkers, who were operating the spaceship before.

Noticing Emery's glance toward the newcomers, Ezzekiel casually said "Worry not about them," he assured with a smirk, "those two have no role in our impending duel."

With a dramatic flourish, Ezzekiel unsheathed a massive blade from his back. The weapon was a thing of dark beauty, a cleaver that seemed to absorb the light around it. Its edge promised pain. "I gather you want to warm up before the real fight don't you?"

Emery's fingers itched with anticipation. He drew his own weapon, the [Savage Sword], its blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. "Let's get started,".

"Very well." With a swift motion, Ezekiel raised his free arm, and as his fingers danced in the air, Emery felt a force acting upon him. A weight pulled him downwards, anchoring him to the ground.

"Gravity spell!" Emery exclaimed, recognizing the nature of Ezzekiel magic.

Despite the invisible chains of the gravity spell binding him, Emery's senses remained razor-sharp. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Ezzekiel lunged forward, his dark cleaver cutting through the air with a hunger for blood.

CLANKKK

The sound of their blades meeting echoed with a metallic clank, a testament to Emery's rapid reaction despite the immense force working against him. The resonance hung in the air for a moment, and both warriors locked eyes, acknowledging the power of their opponent.

Ezzekiel's eyes widened briefly, a mix of respect and curiosity. "Halfblood indeed different," he mused aloud, his tone playful. The corner of his mouth curved upward in a smirk. "Very well, let's test the limits of that strength."

Confusion flickered in Emery's eyes. He had activated every power-up at his disposal, including the formidable [Immortal Gate] and [Paragon's Blessing] yet, the oppressive weight of Ezzekiel's blade bore down on him, challenging every ounce of his might. Emery's muscles strained, veins popping prominently on his forearms as he tried to counter the raw force.

Suddenly, with a powerful shove, Emery found himself being hurled backward. He skidded across the ground, a trail of dust marking his path. The shock of the impact reverberated through him, making it clear that his impressive 600 battle power was still insufficient against Ezzekiel's blade.

As Emery struggled to regain his stance, he witnessed something that surprise him. With every swing Ezzekiel took, there was a ripple, a distortion in the very fabric of space around the blade. Emery's mind raced, and then it clicked - the weapon was infused by the laws of gravity.

Ezzekiel let out a hearty chuckle, his eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. "Count yourself fortunate, young Halfblood. Few magus have ever withstood the might of my gravity strike"

But the respite was brief. With renewed vigor, Ezzekiel launched another assault, this time more ferocious. The combination of the oppressive gravity field and the weight of his swings made him a near-unstoppable force. Every strike felt like a mountain crashing down, threatening to obliterate everything in its path.

Desperation and determination flashed in Emery's eyes. He knew he needed more than just brute strength to counter this adversary. With a swift motion, he unsheathed a second weapon – the [Lightsaber], a gift from the departed Magus Urix. Wielding the twin blades, one glowing with a fierce light and the other pulsing with raw energy, Emery prepared to face the onslaught.

BAM!! BAM!! BAM!! BAM!!

The force of each impact between their blades was titanic, sending tremors that resonated throughout the entire citadel. The air vibrated with energy, scattering dust and debris, as if the very world protested against the might of their duel.

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Off to the side, Kieran, wounded and gasping for breath, dragged himself to safety. He could barely comprehend the magnitude of the power on display. 

Ezzekiel's voice rang out, jubilant and full of thrill, "Amazing!! Truly Amazing!" It was evident that he reveled in the challenge. Emery, adapting quickly, began to anticipate Ezzekiel's moves. The dance of their blades grew more intense, with Emery starting to gain the upper hand.

Recognizing the need for an edge, Emery summoned an arsenal of spells. Vines of [Jade Root] erupted from the ground, slithering like serpents, attempting to bind Ezzekiel's movements. Simultaneously, a [Blind] spell clouded Ezzekiel's vision, obscuring his senses. Then, moving with the swift and erratic patterns of [Blood Hound Steps], Emery zigzagged, a blur to the naked eye, hoping to outmaneuver and strike Ezzekiel down.

But the gravity spell remained Emery's nemesis. Every time he was close, on the brink of landing a potentially decisive blow, that cursed gravity would yank him back, denying him the satisfaction. The strain wasn't just physical – it wreaked havoc on his internal energies. The backlash was so severe that Emery spat out blood, a metallic taste reminding him of his vulnerability. 

Wiping the blood from his lips, a fierce determination burned in Emery's eyes. If brute force wouldn't work, then a strategy would. He summoned an even denser thicket of [Jade Root] vines, each one pulsating with power, forming an intricate web around Ezzekiel.

Yet Ezzekiel, undeterred, sneered defiantly, "Do you truly think such tricks will work on me? Conserve your strength. You cannot hope to win!"

Emery's battle experience had taught him to adapt and learn from every foe he'd faced. The law of gravity was not unfamiliar to him, having battled foes like Hades, Lodos the Maniac, and Magus Cassian, who were adept at manipulating this force.

The situation was intense, but it was precisely in such high-stakes circumstances that Emery's strategic mind began to flourish. He saw an opportunity, a way to turn Ezzekiel's strength into a weakness.

Emery's assault was relentless, his blades flashing, his spells weaving, driving Ezzekiel back, pushing him to the edge. In the heat of the moment, he charged forward, his entire body a weapon aimed at his foe.

And then he stopped.

With a sudden, abrupt movement, Emery placed both hands on the ground. A silence fell, as if time itself held its breath. What followed was a cataclysm, as the whole citadel yard rumbled violently, like the growl of some ancient beast.

"You!!" Ezzekiel's eyes widened in shock as he realized what was happening.

The ground cracked and heaved, opening up beneath them. It was a landslide of epic proportions, and they were at its epicenter. The realization hit Ezzekiel like a thunderbolt: Emery had been manipulating the ground all along, softening it, and preparing it for this very moment.

Gravity, after all, was related to the energy of the Earth. By disrupting the very ground they stood on, Emery had nullified the source of Ezzekiel's power, if only for a fleeting second.

It was all the time he needed.

[Omega Strike] His blade descended, its edge glinting ominously.

SPLAATT!!!

The sound was sickening, the impact devastating. Ezzekiel's chest opened up in a gaping wound, blood splattering in all directions. The gravity spell flickered and failed, and for a moment, Ezzekiel seemed to hang in the air, his face a mask of shock and pain.

But he was not defeated yet. With a supreme effort, Ezzekiel managed to regain control of his gravity spell, propelling himself back, away from Emery, clutching his wounded chest.

Their surroundings had changed dramatically after the landslide, but as the dust settled, Emery and Ezzekiel stood on opposing ends of the newly created chasm. Emery's smirk didn't go unnoticed by Ezzekiel, who called out, "You might have gained the upper hand in the first round.  Brace yourself for the real challenge."

Almost immediately, Emery felt a pulsating surge of energy from Ezzekiel. The intensity and nature of the energy felt hauntingly familiar — it was the raw power of Khaos. Emery's very core seemed to react involuntarily, resonating with that surge. Within moments, the voice of Cthulhu echoed in his mind. <The time has come. Prepare yourself.>

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