The Fourth Hell bore witness to the reunion of two legends, but the atmosphere between Lyon 'Zodiac' Torga and Rakumtatak was far from warm—it was ablaze with the fires of impending battle. The air crackled with the intensity of their unspoken rivalry, echoing the weight of history and untold conflicts.
Lyon, with his white hair flowing like a cascade of silk, stood as the epitome of enigmatic power. His red eyes, like twin flames, reflected a quiet determination, a resolve that hinted at the countless battles he had faced and the challenges that lay ahead. Opposite him, Rakumtatak, the Orc Emperor, exuded a raw and primal energy, a force of nature that seemed ready to unleash its might.
The onlookers, still recovering from the aftermath of Kesya's clash with Rakumtatak, now found themselves drawn into a spectacle that transcended mere physical prowess. It was a clash of titans, an encounter between two beings whose names resonated through the annals of history.
As the Fourth Hell held its breath, the ground beneath them seemed to absorb the tension, creating an arena where the emperors' silent gaze spoke volumes. The flames of their rivalry flickered, casting shadows that danced across the hellish landscape, foretelling the imminent storm that was about to be unleashed.
In this moment of suspended anticipation, the Fourth Hell transformed into a stage for the reunion of legends—one that promised not just a battle, but a collision of destinies that would echo through the realms. The air quivered with the weight of their unspoken histories, setting the stage for a confrontation that would leave an indelible mark on the fabric of existence itself.
Rakumtatak grinned as he let out his warcry, "TOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRGAAAAAAAAA!!!"
Rakumtatak's warcry shattered the tense silence that hung in the air, reverberating through the Fourth Hell like a thunderous proclamation. The very essence of his voice seemed to echo the primal power he wielded, a declaration that transcended language and resonated with the untamed forces of the orcish emperor.
As the echoes of his roar faded, the atmosphere crackled with an electrifying energy, charged with the anticipation of the impending clash. Lyon 'Zodiac' Torga, standing tall and unyielding, met Rakumtatak's gaze with unwavering determination. The white-haired emperor exuded a calm before the storm, his eyes reflecting the silent acceptance of the battle that was about to unfold.
Rakumtatak squinted.
"It has begun!" said Cecile from afar.
Rakumtatak's mighty leap was like a seismic force, sending shockwaves through the very fabric of the Fourth Hell. As he descended, his outstretched hand aimed at Lyon with the intention to grasp his adversary's entire head, crushing it under the orcish emperor's formidable grip. The air itself seemed to quiver with the impending impact.
In response, Lyon's eyes sparked with determination. Instead of evading, he brought his hands together in a resounding clap, a signal that set in motion a dazzling display of arcane power. The ground beneath Lyon lit up with a kaleidoscope of runic patterns, each symbol representing a different facet of mystical energy. The colors danced in harmony, creating an intricate tapestry of defense.
lightsΝοvεl ƈοm Simultaneously, multiple walls of magical force materialized, forming a protective barrier between Lyon and the approaching Rakumtatak. The walls stood tall and imposing, a testament to Lyon's mastery of ancient and potent magic. Yet, in the face of Rakumtatak's sheer might, the defensive structure appeared like fragile glass.
The air crackled with residual energy as Rakumtatak, having shattered Lyon's magical defenses, landed on the ground. Yet, to his surprise, his lower half found itself ensnared in an instant. The runic magic under his feet had woven a web of frosty restraints, attempting to bind the mighty orc. A wry smirk crept across Rakumtatak's face as he acknowledged the futile attempt.
Meanwhile, Lyon had vanished from his previous location, leaving behind a puzzle for the orcish emperor to solve. The runes beneath Rakumtatak flickered with an ephemeral glow, hinting at the intricate web of magic that surrounded the battlefield. The sudden swoosh of air drew Rakumtatak's attention forward, and, at that moment, a projectile hurtled toward him with deadly precision.
A perfect javelin, its visibility greatly reduced, aimed unerringly at the orc emperor's glabella. The air seemed to thicken as Rakumtatak's reflexes kicked in, his hand snatching the projectile from the air with a mere breath to spare. The moment hung in suspended animation, an acknowledgment of Lyon's prowess by the orc who now held the concealed weapon in his grasp.
A subtle touch graced the back of Rakumtatak, and a ripple of surprise flashed across his features. He couldn't deny the sensation; the Zodiac Emperor was behind him. Yet, what perplexed the orc emperor was not Lyon's position but the fact that he couldn't detect him at all. Even with Rakumtatak's formidable level of cultivation, Lyon managed to elude his senses entirely. It wasn't just Lyon's skill or speed; it was something more intrinsic, an ability to cloak himself in a shroud that defied detection.
Meanwhile, using the situation, Selena approached Kesya with a mixture of concern and relief etched across her face. Without uttering a word, her eyes conveyed a torrent of emotions, revealing the depth of their bond and the shared experiences they had weathered together. Kesya, battered but resilient, met Selena's gaze, acknowledging the unspoken connection between them. There was an unyielding strength in Selena's expression, a determination to stand by Kesya's side, offering silent support in the face of adversity.
As Selena carefully assisted Kesya, the air around them held a quiet intensity, a reflection of the unspoken camaraderie that bound these two formidable women. The ordeal had left Kesya weakened, but her breaths signaled a tenacious spirit unwilling to succumb to defeat. The tableau of their silent interaction conveyed a narrative of endurance, friendship, and the unbreakable spirit that defined their existence in the tumultuous realms they traversed.
"Hah,hahahaha!" Rakumtatak's laughter echoed through the Fourth Hell as he confronted Lyon. "After all this time, and you still manage to sneak behind me," the orc emperor chuckled. "I fear no death, Torga, but only you have faced it and won, tell me, how does it feel?"
Lyon furrowed his brows, "I'm afraid I can't tell you, I have not recovered all of my memories, not just death, but even you, Tatak."
"You lost your memory?" Rakumtatak grinned, "They said I'm good at jolting one." He used his elbow to swing and turn, destroying the ice that bound him. His hits connect but Lyon turned out to be just a lump of clay.
The Zodiac Emperor's response was enigmatic, "I have forgotten much, but I remember enough to face you, Tatak."
The clay shattered, and suddenly, his surroundings underwent a surreal transformation. Below his feet lay a floor of crystal clarity, mirroring the azure sky above. In every direction, thousands of mirrors stretched out, reflecting his own image in an infinite array. The usual sounds of nature vanished, leaving only the echo of his breath in this illusionary realm.
As Rakumtatak observed his peculiar surroundings, he couldn't help but acknowledge the Zodiac Emperor's mastery of illusion. The seasoned orc emperor, aware of the illusory nature, stood undeterred, his eyes scanning the multitude of reflections. Lyon's enigmatic words lingered in the air, emphasizing the challenge that lay ahead. "Then let's see how much you truly remember, old friend."
Rakumtatak's movements in the illusionary realm were a ballet of defiance, a dance between the orc emperor and the mesmerizing mirrors. With a confident smirk, he approached one of the reflective surfaces, his hand connecting with it in a sharp knock. The mirror shattered into countless fragments, the bits suspended in mid-air for a fleeting moment. Yet, in a mesmerizing display, they seemed to possess a life of their own, converging back together to recreate the mirror. Rakumtatak's smirk deepened, showcasing his amusement at Lyon's illusions.
---
The cultivators in Fourth Hell exchanged bewildered glances as Rakumtatak stood seemingly still within the illusion, his eyes closed in concentration. Whispers of confusion swept through the crowd like a breeze, accompanied by hushed speculations about the orc emperor's unexpected stillness.
"W-What's happening? Has Rakumtatak fallen into a trap?"
"Could it be some sort of illusion? But why isn't he reacting?"
"The energy, it's moving! It's moving toward... by the lords..." A seasoned cultivator trailed off, unable to articulate the strange and unpredictable currents of anti-mana converging around Lyon.
Meanwhile, Lyon spoke the incantation with a commanding tone, "Rat Sage Art: Amass." His words echoed through Fourth Hell, resonating with the very essence of the realm. The anti-mana, like a river redirected by a sorcerer's will, surged toward Lyon, concentrating on his clasped hands. The atmosphere crackled with otherworldly energy, and the onlookers could sense the impending clash of forces beyond their comprehension.
In the midst of this, Lyon's gaze remained fixed on the illusionary figure of Rakumtatak, who seemed unaware of the impending surge of power. The illusionary mirrors around the orc emperor shattered and reformed, mirroring the turmoil within the illusions and the gathering storm in the reality Lyon was shaping.
---
Meanwhile, the beggar from Second Hell stood before the portal that linked the Third and Fourth Realms. Cloaked in tattered rags and emanating an aura of enigmatic power, he observed the energies swirling within the portal. His gaze, though concealed beneath the hood, held a depth of knowledge and purpose. The beggar, who had crossed paths with Lyon in the Second Hell, seemed to be attuned to the currents of the realms. With a subtle but determined demeanor, he prepared to step through the portal, poised for an encounter that would disrupt the events in the Fourth Realm and alter the course of destiny.
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