"Your Highness, can you hear it?" Carmin exclaims, her voice filled with urgency as she springs up from her seat. Moe and Phill raise their heads, their attention piqued by Carmin's words, and they turn to look at her.
Zamira, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground, responds with a knowing nod. "That's Jake. He's probably engaged in a fierce battle with someone."
Carmin's worry becomes evident as she continues, her voice laced with concern. "Your Highness, should we simply sit here and wait indefinitely? People are watching us. Can you imagine what they will think of us?"
Moe and Phill silently agree with Carmin's sentiment, their expressions reflecting a mix of frustration and impatience. Internally, Moe grits his teeth, thinking, 'If this were a real fight and not just a game, I'd gladly shut that mouth of hers. Even though it's just a simulation, the pain feels all too real.'
Phill shares Moe's sentiment, his face mirroring the frustration etched on his features. Carmin's tendency to overpower them in battle has left them yearning for an opportunity to prove their worth.
Suddenly, the distant sound of voices reaches their ears, originating from outside the cave in which they are hiding. Zamira instinctively raises a hand, gesturing for the others to remain silent.
A tense stillness settles upon the group as they strain their ears, listening intently to the voices drifting through the air. The sense of anticipation hangs thick in the air, mingling with the frustration and impatience that has been building within them.
Zamira's gaze flickers with a mix of determination and concern. As the leader of their group, she feels the weight of responsibility upon her shoulders. She knows they cannot afford to draw unnecessary attention to themselves, especially with the eyes of spectators fixed upon their every move.
The voices outside continue to grow in volume, causing Zamira's unease to deepen. Each passing moment adds to the tension, fueling their eagerness to join the unfolding battle. Yet, they must exercise caution and restraint, for their actions could have consequences that extend far beyond this virtual world.
"What are those things flying in the air?" a voice calls out from outside, causing Zamira to tighten her grip on the hilt of her sword. The curiosity in the person's voice sends a shiver down her spine, alerting her to the potential danger that lies just beyond their hiding place.
The "flying things" the person is referring to are none other than the swords created by Jake, infused with his divine energy. Zamira is unsure of the extent of their power, but she refuses to be caught off guard. With a resolute expression, she clings tightly to her sword, prepared for whatever may come.
"Hey! You, go check it out," another voice commands, the tone laced with authority. The urgency in their voices sends a ripple of tension through the group, prompting them to ready their weapons in anticipation of a confrontation. They stand poised and focused, prepared to strike at the first sign of the enemy's arrival.
However, just as the footsteps draw nearer to the entrance of the cave, an unforeseen intervention occurs.
As the figure comes into view, the floating swords suddenly ignite in a blinding flash of white light, impaling the vampire and pinning him mercilessly to the ground. The ethereal blades exhibit a level of agility and precision far beyond that of a normal vampire noble's comprehension. The lifeless body remains impaled, a grotesque testament to the deadly accuracy of the swords. The vampire's expression contorts in horror and regret, his fate sealed.
Gradually, the body of the vampire begins to disintegrate, transforming into minuscule particles that scatter into the air. The evidence of his demise lingers, yet his physical form is reduced to nothingness.
"Team leader! Look! He's dead! Those floating swords killed him!" a voice cries out from outside, filled with a mix of shock and terror.
The group within the cave gazes upon the emblem emblazoned on the armor of the fallen vampire, their eyes widening in disbelief and dread. The truth dawns upon them, sinking deep into their cores like an anchor.
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"T-That's the Sanguines!" Carmin's voice trembles, her words laden with horror and realization.
Zamira, her instincts sharp and honed, rises swiftly from her seat, her gaze fixed on the cave's entrance. With a purposeful stride, she moves toward the opening, her hand grasping the hilt of her demon-tier sword. The weight of the moment settles upon her, stirring a mix of determination and trepidation within her heart.
"Everyone, gather close. Things are about to get nasty," Zamira declares, her voice unwavering as she unsheathes her formidable weapon. The demon-tier sword gleams with a malevolent aura, its power coursing through her veins.
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"Behemoth Punch! Sixth stage!" I roar, my voice resonating with determination as I propel myself towards Roth, my hands crackling with the power of Ki.
In a swift motion, my fist collides with his chest, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. Roth is sent hurtling backward, crashing into the ground with a resounding thud. The force of the impact creates a series of craters, marking the planet with the remnants of our clash.
BOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!
The sheer destruction unleashed by my attack sends shockwaves rippling through the surrounding area. Dust and debris fill the air, obscuring the once clear battlefield. The chaos spans an expanse of four kilometers square, evidence of the immense power unleashed within a single strike.
But I am not done yet.
Suspended in mid-air, I cup my fists together, drawing upon the surging energy within me. The anticipation builds, a simmering storm ready to be unleashed upon my opponent.
"Dracula's Rage! Fifth stage!"
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