Mark and the duplicate clashed in a flurry of sharp motions, their scythes meeting in a blur of slashes and kicks. Mark struggled to keep up with the duplicate's lightning fast movements, but he refused to back down. Each blow exchanged was a testament to their equally matched strength, but the duplicate's speed proved to be a formidable advantage.
When Mark attempted to block an attack, the duplicate's kick sent him flying across the ground. Scrambling to his feet, Mark's mind raced with a mix of determination and desperation.
"This can't continue, or I'll be the one who ends up dead," he thought, a smile spreading across his face.
With a swift spin, Mark positioned his scythe into a fighting stance, ready to face the duplicate's onslaught. However, the duplicate's speed proved too much, and it struck Mark down with a devastating slash, sending him tumbling to the ground.
As Mark struggled to rise, he sensed an enormous energy building up, an energy eerily familiar. Suddenly, it clicked into place, it was his own energy, and the duplicate was wielding it against him. Mark's eyes widened as the duplicate paused, its scythe poised for the final blow.
In a desperate bid to counterattack, Mark raised his scythe to block the incoming slash, his heart racing with anticipation. The duplicate's attack was his own signature move, one he had yet to find a defense against. The outcome hung in the balance, as the two scythes clashed in a shower of sparks.
The attack shattered the scythe, its remnants flying apart like splintered bones. The blade continued its deadly trajectory, slicing through the air with precision and cutting off Mark's right hand with surgical accuracy. The severed limb fell to the ground, its fingers still clenched in a fist.
Mark's gaze drifted to his mutilated arm, his expression twisted into a menacing grin. His eyes gleamed with a fierce light, as if he had embraced the agony. The pain might have been too intense for him to feel, or perhaps he had transcended it?
"Hahaha, I'm not dead yet!" Mark exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the air as he reveled in the duplicate's momentary weakness. The duplicate's lack of practice with his signature skill had saved him from certain defeat.
Mark placed his left hand on his face, a sly grin spreading across his features. The duplicate, meanwhile, was gasping for breath, its strength depleted from the previous attack. It was perplexed, most creatures would have succumbed to pain and shock if they had lost a limb, but Mark seemed unfazed. As the duplicate watched, Mark's appearance began to transform. A mask materialized on his face, its void spinning with an otherworldly energy. His clothes shifted to black, and a pistol appeared in his hand as if conjured from thin air.
"It's time for you to meet your end," Mark declared, his voice cold and menacing, as he aimed his pistol at the duplicate. But before he could pull the trigger, the sky transformed into a deep, foreboding canvas, as if night had fallen in an instant.
"Damn it, not now!" Mark cursed, his gaze darting upwards, knowing all too well what was about to ensue. The Sword Rain. The last time, Mark had barely survived the weakest iteration, and now, with a broken arm and a duplicate hot on his heels, his chances of survival seemed bleak.
"Shit!" Mark exclaimed, swiftly jumping away from the duplicate and sprinting away, his heart racing with urgency. The Sword Rain was notorious for its unpredictability and deadliness, and Mark knew he had to find cover before it was too late. His broken arm throbbed in protest as he ran, but he pushed on, driven by the will to survive.
The duplicate stood frozen, its gaze fixed on Mark as he fled, before suddenly recalling the terror of the Sword Rain. It too began to move away, its movements slow and labored.
Mark, meanwhile, ran with all his might, his eyes fixed on the sky, which had darkened to an ominous black. A void seemed to be forming between the clouds, a swirling vortex that threatened to consume everything in its path. Mark's instincts screamed at him to run faster, and he complied, his legs pumping furiously as he desperately sought shelter.
The air grew thick with anticipation, heavy with the promise of impending doom. Whatever was coming, Mark knew it was going to be bad, worse than anything he had faced before. The Sword Rain was no ordinary phenomenon, and this time, it seemed to be unleashing its full fury upon the world.
In the real world, the sky above Oregon Academy began to tear open, revealing a swirling portal that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Students scrambled to get away, some curiosity, driven ones lingering at a safe distance to witness the spectacle. However, the military cordon surrounding the area kept them at bay.
Perched on a rooftop, Zico sat poised like a predator, his daggers twirling in anticipation
"Mark must have met his demise," he thought, his expression calm:
"Now, it's my turn to claim the title of God Slayer and show everyone who wronged me real pain"
Remon and Ariana observed from a hidden vantage point, their presence unknown to the others:
"Sis, are we doing the right thing?" Remon asked, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.
Ariana's response was laced with conviction:
"It depends on which world is opening up. With the beasts appearing and clan wars raging, we may need to relocate. And we both know who's next in line to become the God Slayer..."
"Aldro Komi?" Remon ventured.
Ariana's nod was curt:
"Exactly. And if Mark is still alive, the world is as good as gone."
Just then, lightning struck the ground repeatedly, some of the military soldiers absorbing the blows without flinching. The portal burst open, its blue glow swirling like a vortex.
"It's open!" Zico declared, his voice low and even, as he sprang from the rooftop with the grace of a panther. His movements belied the excitement in his eyes, his calm exterior hiding a maelstrom of anticipation.