"This is a big one indeed, tsk...I guess I will just have to take it head-on then."
Merciless gazed up at Zakcry, his sharp senses sensing the development of the gigantic dark purple flame lance, which the Shagoth had previously warned him about. Although he didn't know whether he could avoid this even if he went intangible, he felt like that was meaningless as well, as Zakcry's strike would still reach given the nature of what it was in context.
Meanwhile, Zakcry's bionic arms transformed into a specialized cannon to hold the massive weapon. The air was charged with expectancy and lethal purpose.
As Zakcry directed the cannon downward, Merciless felt a burst of determination. He'd fought many formidable opponents in his short time as a vampire, but this onslaught promised to be unlike any other. He was sure he had to use every ounce of his power to dodge this.
"Farewell, warrior of the flesh."
