[The skill known as "Emotion Eliminator" delves into the depths of the user's psyche, enabling them to tap into a state of zero emotions. When invoked, this skill effectively strips away any emotional hindrances that may impede the warrior's will to fight, resulting in a state of cold detachment.
By eliminating emotions such as pain, anger, fear, and even compassion, the user becomes liberated from the distractions that can cloud judgment and hinder decision-making in combat. This state of emotional detachment allows the mind to work with utmost clarity and efficiency, enabling the user to assess their surroundings swiftly and discern the optimal strategies and techniques to employ in any given situation.
With emotions cast aside, the user's focus sharpens, and they become immune to the distractions and vulnerabilities associated with emotional responses. Pain, whether inflicted by physical or psychological means, is no longer a hindrance, as the user's detachment from sensation allows them to disregard discomfort and press on undeterred.
While emotions are eliminated, it is essential to note that the skill does not render the user completely devoid of consciousness or empathy. Rather, it provides temporary respite from the influence of emotions, allowing the warrior to operate with a detached perspective solely geared towards achieving victory.]
As the skill enveloped him, Grok's eyes turned pure white, his emotions shrouded in a veil of detachment. Pain, fear, and grief were banished, replaced by a singular focus on rescuing his injured comrade.
[The skill known as "Nimble Shift" is a last resort ability to be employed solely in moments of ultimate crisis. It harnesses the untamed mana present in the surrounding environment and channels it directly into the user's legs, granting them unparalleled speed and agility. However, this power comes at an excruciating cost.
When Nimble Shift is activated, the wild mana surges into the user's legs without being filtered by the heart or any other regulating mechanism. As a result, an intense and unbearable pain courses through the user's lower limbs. The agony becomes so severe that the user may even entertain the thought of severing their own legs to end the torment.
Paradoxically, it is precisely this agonizing pain that fuels the true potential of the skill. As the user endures the excruciating sensation, their speed is exponentially increased. The more intense the pain inflicted by the untamed mana, the greater the surge in the user's velocity. It is as if the anguish itself propels the user forward, transcending the limits of human capability.
In this state, the user becomes a blur of motion, their movements defying the laws of physics. Their reflexes are heightened, allowing them to evade attacks, navigate obstacles with finesse, and strike with precision. The pain, although excruciating, is transformed into a source of power, enabling the user to outrun danger and react swiftly in dire situations.
The key characteristic of Nimble Shift lies in its delicate balance between agony and unparalleled speed. The user must find the threshold where pain is intense enough to unlock extraordinary swiftness without incapacitating them entirely. Mastering this skill requires tremendous mental fortitude, as the user must endure unimaginable suffering to unleash their full potential.
Nimble Shift stands as a testament to the lengths one would go to survive in dire circumstances. It is a skill that defies conventional wisdom, turning anguish into a catalyst for extraordinary speed and agility. However, its utilization comes at a grave cost, demanding unwavering resolve and an unwelcome acceptance of unbearable pain.]
In an instant, Grok vanished from his previous position, reappearing beside the chimera's hand that still clutched Arthur's injured body. With a swift motion, Grok severed the hand, freeing Arthur from his grotesque captivity.
The chimera's regeneration was swift, yet Grok was unyielding in his resolve. He cradled Arthur in his arms, his powerful strides propelling him forward with unmatched speed.
The chimera gave chase, its monstrous form closing in with relentless determination. But Grok had a plan—a plan born of a mind devoid of emotion, focused solely on the preservation of his fallen comrade.
One by one, Grok hurled his soldiers at the chimera, using them as sacrificial pawns to delay the relentless pursuer. The clash between soldiers and monstrosity echoed through the battlefield, each sacrifice serving as a momentary distraction.
The soldiers valiantly fought, their cries of pain serving as a backdrop to the resolute determination etched on Grok's face. He knew the cost of his actions, yet his mind remained unclouded, his purpose unwavering.I think you should take a look at
The chimera dispatched the soldiers with ease, its focus solely fixed on reaching its intended prey. But with each sacrifice, Grok gained precious moments to escape, to carry Arthur to safety.
As Grok's gaze met the relentless pursuit behind him, a glint of determination burned within his eyes. The battlefield was a testament to his unyielding will—a canvas painted with the blood and sacrifice of his comrades.
He would not falter. He would not fail.
For Arthur.
And with a final surge of strength, Grok pressed forward, his heart aflame with an unquenchable fire, as he fought against insurmountable odds to protect his fallen friend and carve a path to the backlines.
After a final, mighty push, Grok triumphantly reached the back lines of his army, gently laying down Arthur's battered yet still breathing body. Despite the relentless assault he had endured, Arthur clung to life, although his chest bore a gaping hole, surrounded by a swirling vortex of ominous black energy, and his blood loss was staggering.
Derein, his loyal companion, swiftly raced to Arthur's side, accompanied by her most skilled Healers. Determination etched on her face, she cradled Arthur's head in her lap, tears streaming down her cheeks as she beheld his wretched condition.
"I won't let you slip away, Arthur. We will save you," Derein whispered, her voice filled with both desperation and unwavering resolve.
"I need heals or i will-"
Before Grok could utter another word, his eyes abruptly reverted to their normal state, and he collapsed without warning, blood gushing uncontrollably from his legs.
"Curses! He invoked the forbidden arts. Summon additional Healers immediately! We must attend to Grok's injuries with utmost urgency!" Derein's voice trembled with a mix of anguish and determination, her tears flowing freely.
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Arthur, please don't abandon me. I implore you, don't forsake me in this dire hour, or my spirit will shatter. Sir, Grok has also succumbed."
"Madam Derein, that abomination is relentlessly slaughtering our soldiers," spoke one of the knight captains, gesturing toward the hulking chimera zombie.
As if in response to the mounting chaos, the rain intensified, transforming into an onslaught, while a tempest loomed on the distant horizon.
"God, Please Save us." Derein spoke in a very slow voice praying to the all mighty.
The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos and carnage, the human forces locked in a desperate struggle against the relentless tide of the undead. The weather was as fierce as the enemy, with dark clouds blanketing the sky, and rain pouring down in torrents. Yet, amidst the downpour, the warriors fought on, their resolve unyielding as they clashed with the horrors of the night.
Arthur and Grok, two of the mightiest fighters on the human side, lay grievously wounded. Despite the best efforts of skilled Healers, their conditions showed little sign of improvement. Grok demonstrated some resilience, but Arthur's injuries grew more severe with each passing moment.
Healers strained to maintain their pace, their hands glowing with healing magic as they tried to keep Arthur alive. However, it seemed like a fleeting effort against the odds. The relentless assault of the undead, led by the fearsome chimera zombie, continued unabated, its claws and fangs dealing deathly blows to the human forces.
Grok's injuries were being tended to, but it was apparent that he would take time to recover. Arthur, on the other hand, was fading, his life slipping away with every passing second.
Among the Healers attending to Arthur, Aeliana, a renowned Healer known for her mastery over restorative arts, had a determined look in her eyes. She refused to give in, channeling her energy into casting powerful healing spells on Arthur.
"I won't let you die, My King. Not today," she muttered under her breath, her hands emitting a warm, soothing glow.
Rain pounded the battlefield, and the ground was a quagmire of mud, making it even harder for the already weary human soldiers to maintain their footing. The undead, however, seemed unaffected, their relentless onslaught pushing the human forces to the brink of despair.
Every human soldier bitten by the zombies transformed into one of them within a mere ten minutes. Their numbers swelled at an alarming rate, with fallen human soldiers rising as new additions to the undead ranks.
Desperation settled over the battlefield like a shroud, sapping the morale of the human forces. Despite their courage and valor, the seemingly endless wave of undead threatened to crush their spirit.
Derein, a skilled archer and the queen of the human realm, fought alongside her loyal subjects with unwavering determination. Her arrows found their mark, and her keen eyes scanned the battlefield for any signs of weakness in the enemy's ranks.
But for every undead she took down, two more seemed to replace it. The zombie horde appeared to be inexhaustible, overwhelming the human forces with sheer numbers and brute force.
Boom
The first son of the martial house, known for his prowess with spiked gauntlets, unleashed a flurry of deadly thrusts, obliterating a group of zombies. Yet, the strain on his body was evident, sweat mingling with the rain as he pressed on, a red-hot determination burning in his eyes.
"When will this end?" he grunted, surveying the endless tide of zombies converging upon him.
The soldiers around him were equally exhausted, their weariness evident in the slumping of their shoulders. The undead proved to be relentless, requiring no rest or sustenance, an unyielding force of death that seemed unstoppable.
Only one noble house stood apart—the house of the undead nobility. These soldiers maintained their composure, armed with intelligence and strategy. But even they couldn't keep up this relentless pace forever, for their existence depended on the blood they required to maintain their undead forms.I think you should take a look at
The soldiers who lost their strength succumbed to death, while others, who witnessed the never-ending onslaught of the zombies, began to lose hope, resigning themselves to a grim fate.
"Soldiers, Don't die. Fight even if you are tired to death; giving up is not the answer on this battlefield. Fighting will keep you alive!" roared the leader of the Dragon House of Flames. He swung his enormous sword with astonishing speed, cutting down hordes of zombies in a display of unmatched ferocity.
With each swing, he wondered how long he could keep this up. His muscles screamed with fatigue, and yet he pressed on, unwilling to yield an inch to the undead menace.
Another martial house leader, known for his resilience and strength, crushed the skull of a zombie crawling on the ground, its upper half missing, yet refusing to die. "Damn! Humans at least stay down when cut in half, but these fuckers..." he growled.
Within this whirlwind of chaos, the Knight captain from the Alchemist family approached the martial house leader. "Sir, should we start it?" he inquired, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"Not now," replied the martial house leader. "The formation is still far from what we need. Patience, my friend."
"Yes, sir, as you say," the Knight captain nodded.
Meanwhile, Queen Derein displayed remarkable archery skills, taking down zombies with deadly precision. Yet, even she could sense the tide turning against her forces. Her arrows seemed to be mere pinpricks in the vast sea of undead, as if the enemy's numbers were endless.
"Queen Derein, I need help!" one of Derein's knight captains called out, surrounded by zombies on all sides.
"Yes..." Derein replied, her voice calm yet urgent. She prepared her arrow rain skill, unleashing a devastating barrage that eliminated the surrounding zombies in seconds.
But despite her efforts, one of her knight captains fell, overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught. Derein gritted her teeth, a mixture of anger and sorrow surging within her.
"Shit," she whispered, accepting the loss but determined to help her remaining comrades.
As the battle raged on, the soldiers of the Denver house of justice exhibited remarkable combat prowess, their silver armors glimmering in the rain as they cut through the undead ranks with precision and speed. The rain washed away the blood from their armors, yet their determination remained unwavering.
These knights demonstrated the valor of true warriors, their swords moving in perfect rhythm, their footsteps in flawless harmony. Their techniques and silence were impeccable, a display of martial prowess that left their enemies in awe.
The Denver House soldiers formed four defensive lines, each standing as an impenetrable wall, protecting the backline of mages and healers. The undead horde crashed against the first line, but the defenders held their ground, their swords dancing with lethal grace.
The zombies that somehow survived the first line's onslaught met their doom at the hands of the second and third lines. Only the most relentless and formidable undead made it to the fourth line, but they too were met with unyielding resistance.
The fourth defensive line proved to be an impenetrable fortress, allowing not even a single zombie to breach the backlines. It seemed like the human forces had regained control, their coordinated defense pushing back the relentless enemy.
But then, an earth-shattering roar reverberated through the battlefield, shattering the soldiers' newfound hope. A massive zombie, larger and more fearsome than any they had encountered before, broke through the first defensive line, its gargantuan form shaking the very ground beneath it.
The soldiers surrounding the monstrous undead put up a valiant fight, their swords slicing through its rotting flesh, yet it pressed on, undeterred. It reached the second line, and the soldiers fought with all their might, but the beast refused to fall.
It wasn't until the third line that the soldiers realized they faced an unprecedented challenge. They gathered all their strength and skill to attack the monstrous zombie, but it persisted, reaching the fourth line with an indomitable will.
The fourth line responded with a ferocious assault, desperate to halt the monstrosity's advance. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath as the undead giant faced the final line of defense.
Gwwaaaa
An anguished howl escaped the monstrous zombie as it lunged toward the backlines. Panic spread like wildfire among the mages and healers, their hearts pounding with fear.
The creature was only a few steps away from reaching the vital support units, threatening to turn the tide of the battle once again. Its looming presence struck fear into the hearts of even the most seasoned warriors.
Amidst the chaos, a mage from the Denver House shouted, "It's here! Backline has been invaded! Denver House soldiers, take charge!"
His voice boomed across the battlefield, commanding attention from all those who heard it. The Denver House soldiers instantly understood their role. They withdrew something from their pockets, revealing a previously concealed object.
The other houses looked on in confusion, unsure of what they were witnessing. But the Denver House's knight captain simply nodded, understanding the significance of the moment.
A knight from the house of Dragon Flames asked, "What are you doing?"
The Denver House's knight turned towards him, his eyes ablaze with determination, and spoke three powerful words: "Serving the God."
The battleground trembled beneath the thunderous clash of steel and the roar of undead hordes. Some of the knights from the Denver House of Justice, renowned for their unyielding devotion to their cause, halted their combat momentarily, leaving the soldiers from other houses puzzled by their actions. These Denver knights were no ordinary warriors; they were a breed apart, fueled by an unshakable faith in their purpose.
"What's going on? Why did they stop?" The knights from different houses inquired, their swords still poised for battle.
Inside the healing camps...
High above the chaos, the Great Mother, a formidable figure shrouded in an aura of power, sat upon her throne, using her otherworldly abilities to mend the injured soldiers who sought refuge in her presence. Grad, sought a brief respite to have his injuries tended to. As he approached the Great Mother, her piercing gaze met his, an unspoken understanding passing between them.I think you should take a look at
"The Great Mother, may i ask why have some of your soldiers halted their fight?" Grad inquired, taking a seat beside her.
Her eyes glimmering with wisdom, the Great Mother replied, "Those soldiers are no ordinary fighters, old man. They are blessed with the divine calling to dedicate their lives to the Almighty. Each one of them is bound to a higher purpose, to protect the back lines at any cost."
Perplexed, Grad asked, "Are they planning on...?"
The Great Mother confirmed his suspicion with a solemn nod, "Indeed, they have made their choice."
To the amazement of onlookers, the Denver knights retrieved a peculiar golden vial from their pockets, glistening with an ethereal light—the Holy Doping agent.
Grad's expression turned to a mixture of awe and concern, "You created a suicide squad?"
The Great Mother's demeanor remained calm as she clarified, "No, not a suicide squad. They have renounced all earthly attachments, all worldly desires, and stand ready to embrace the will of the Almighty. This is their solemn vow."
"By the heavens, what have you done?" Grad asked, unable to shake off his astonishment.
Emerging from the tent, Grad witnessed a sight that would forever be etched into his memory. The Denver knights, their bodies radiating an ethereal golden glow, stood steadfast in the face of impending danger.
"In the name of God, I shall surrender before the Almighty," the soldiers intoned, invoking the power of the Holy Doping agent to amplify their skills and overcharge them.
Their blades shone with divine brilliance as they pledged their very souls to the Almighty, their devotion granting them unparalleled strength.
"Soldiers, Offensive Formation!" The troops that had been vigilantly safeguarding the back lines now transformed into an offensive formation, while other Denver knights assumed their former defensive positions with unwavering resolve.
In a blaze of divine glory, the overcharged soldiers surged forth, their battle cries rending the air as they advanced with unparalleled fury. They pushed back the undead horde from the front lines, their actions emanating the echoes of ancient legends.
As the spectacle unfolded, rival knights were taken aback by the sheer display of valor and determination.
"Woah, have they lost their minds? Overcharging like that? Sacrificing themselves?" One of the undead knights commented in awe.
"We must seize this opportunity! We need to push them back before the overcharge wears off!" A soldier from the House of Flames urged, recognizing the momentous opening presented before them.
Heeding the advice, the knights, once sworn enemies, united with the Denver House, charging forward with newfound vigor, leaving a trail of annihilated zombie bodies in their wake. The battleground became a canvas of relentless warfare, the grass beneath their feet swallowed by the tide of carnage.
In the Nightmare Forest...
Within an underground laboratory, a man, draped in a lab coat and glasses, observed the unfolding battle on numerous screens. This enigmatic figure was a mastermind, his eyes alight with a sinister gleam.
"Hehehe, Overcharge just for this? How amusing. Let's see how you handle this," he chuckled darkly, a fiendish smile curling upon his lips as he assessed the situation.
Meanwhile, above ground, Derein, the valiant commander leading the charge, received word that the elite knights from the Denver House had managed to push back the enemy.
"Good, but there's no time to rest on our laurels. We must finish them off once and for all. Charge with everything you've got!" Derein commanded, her voice resolute and unyielding.
"But ma'am, what if something goes wrong? We should leave a party to protect you at all costs," a knight commander expressed concern, recognizing the danger his beloved commander faced.
"No, even a single surviving enemy poses a grave threat to our kingdom. We must eliminate them now, once and for all," Derein declared with unwavering conviction.
As she stepped outside, she was met with a sight of unparalleled valor and glory. The overcharged soldiers from the Denver House fought with unmatched ferocity, a blazing beacon of hope amidst the darkness. These soldiers had transcended the limits of mortal strength, each swing of their blades a testament to their unwavering faith.
Witnessing the soldiers' unyielding resolve and the glory of their battle, Derein's eyes welled with tears. She felt a profound sense of pride and admiration for these brave warriors who had forsaken all for the sake of their cause.
"What has the Great Mother bestowed upon them? These knights shall be immortalized in the annals of history, their names etched into legend," Derein whispered, her heart filled with a mix of awe and sorrow.
As the battlefield quaked with the ferocity of their charge, the overcharged soldiers pressed forward, their determination unyielding. Each stride was a testament to their unwavering resolve and indomitable spirit.
With her kingdom's fate hanging in the balance, Derein clenched her fists, promising herself and her fallen comrades that she would protect both their kingdoms, even if it cost her everything.
The ground beneath them trembled, not only from the unrelenting onslaught but from the birth of legends. The overcharged soldiers, the embodiment of divine fervor and human determination, carved a path of glory through the heart of darkness.
Through the chaos and bloodshed, a symphony of valor echoed across the battlefield—a symphony that would forever be etched in the annals of time, a legacy of the unyielding human spirit and the boundless devotion to a cause greater than oneself. In this crucible of war, true heroes were forged, and legends were born.
The tranquility that settled upon the battlefield was short-lived, as the zombies abruptly halted their mindless advance.
"What sorcery is this? Are they planning to retreat?" questioned one of the battle-hardened warriors, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
"We cannot allow them to escape," declared another, his eyes ablaze with determination. "We must put an end to this once and for all. Let's show these abominations what true power looks like!"
GrawwwwwwwwI think you should take a look at
A bone-chilling cry reverberated from the depths of the accursed nightmare forest, an eerie echo that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest souls.
"What in the gods' names was that?" Grad inquired, turning to Frank, the seasoned veteran of many battles, seeking answers.
"They are coming," Frank responded, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and grim acceptance.
"Who? What do you mean?" pressed Grad, eager to understand the unfolding danger.
"Remember that relentless zombie that nearly tore King Arthur and King Grok asunder?" Frank's eyes bore the weight of harrowing memories. "That one didn't make it back, but now we're facing something far more sinister – an army of them."
Grad's heart sank at the revelation. "More of those monstrous fucking fiends? Gods help us!"
"Not just one or two, but a seemingly endless horde," Frank disclosed, his weathered face marked by concern as he surveyed the darkened expanse of the nightmare forest.
Without warning, a multitude of grotesque zombie Chimeras erupted from the shadowy abyss. Their movements were deliberate and methodical, not blindingly swift, but their unholy strength was evident in each step they took.
These abominations defied all reason, creatures forged from the wicked fusion of two fearsome monsters, their once distinct forms now grotesquely combined into an unstoppable force of malevolence. Others were monstrous hybrids, where the monstrous flesh of beasts and the frailty of humanity were twisted together in a gruesome dance of horror.
The earth trembled beneath their advance, and the air became laden with an oppressive aura, suffused with the stench of death and decay.
"Fear not, brothers and sisters! We stand united against this tide of darkness!" proclaimed Grad, his voice a rallying cry that echoed across the ranks of the valiant warriors.
Drawing their weapons, the brave soldiers tightened their formations, ready to face this unholy onslaught. Their faces etched with determination, they embraced the coming storm, knowing that their valor would be tested, their mettle pushed to its limits.
The clash was swift and fierce, the battlefield now transformed into a whirlwind of chaos and carnage. Arrows sang through the air, finding their mark amidst the shambling hordes. Swords clashed against twisted limbs, and spears impaled monstrous torsos.
Grad swung his own blade with deadly precision, cleaving through the unyielding flesh of a zombie Chimera. His heart pounded within his chest as he danced amidst the maelstrom, each stroke a testament to his undying resolve.
Blood and sweat mingled, but the warriors fought on, their spirits unyielding. With every foe they struck down, their fury grew, and their shouts of defiance reverberated across the battlefield like a roaring thunder.
Yet, for every monster felled, two more seemed to emerge from the abyss, their relentless advance threatening to engulf the very souls of the living.
Suddenly the rain stopped and the moon shined in the sky and with the moon light a bird appeared in the sky.