The heavy rain drenched every corner of the road they passed through. Water pooled everywhere, making the ground muddy and slippery, while the strong wind added to the difficulty by whipping their faces with rain droplets. Aryan and his colleagues walked carefully, carrying heavy materials on their shoulders, trying to maintain their balance. Every step felt like a struggle, their feet sinking into the slick mud, making them nearly slip at every moment.
"Be careful when you walk, don't slip!" their foreman shouted in a reminding tone, his voice competing with the roar of the rain and the crash of thunder above them. He walked ahead, his face serious, ensuring that everyone stayed alert under these hostile weather conditions.
Aryan sighed heavily, feeling the weight on his shoulders grow heavier because of the rain. "Our job as laborers is already hard in normal weather," he said in a tired tone, glancing at the material he was carrying, "let alone in heavy rain like this." His steps felt heavy, and every time he lifted his feet from the puddles, splashes of mud scattered in all directions.
One of Aryan's friends, nodded in agreement, his face covered in rain droplets. "You're right, Aryan. Today is really tough. This rain is different from usual—heavier, more terrifying." He smiled bitterly, stumbling slightly as his foot slipped on the slick ground.
Their other friend, let out a bitter laugh and said, "If only we could stay home right now, sitting comfortably with a cup of hot tea or coffee in our hands... That would be better than being here, working in the heavy rain with all these risks." He adjusted his raincoat, which was already soaked through, though the protection seemed futile.
Aryan gave a grim smile, looking ahead. "Yeah, that would be nice, but it seems like that only happens in dreams." They laughed, though the sound was soon drowned out by the ever-pouring rain. For them, this job was their livelihood—they had no choice but to endure, even under extreme weather. Every step they took was measured carefully, as if one wrong move could send them falling into a puddle, or worse, get injured by the heavy load they were carrying.
However, in the sky above them, a battle was raging with an intensity far greater than their struggle against the rain.
Cyla, the beautiful woman fighting in the sky, was clearly overwhelmed by her opponent. Her face was pale, and her breathing ragged after the relentless attacks from her adversary, Enha. Cyla's eyes burned with hatred, even though her body was growing weaker. In front of her, Enha remained calm, as if enjoying Cyla's desperation, his eyes reflecting cold mockery.
"Give it up, sweetheart," he said with a mocking tone, his steps casual even as the dark aura around him pulsed, ready to strike at any moment. "You've already lost. What more can you do?"
Cyla, nearly at the point of despair, sneered angrily. "Bastard! You're the one who forced me this far!" Her face flushed with anger, her eyes glowing with fierce determination. Without hesitation, she made a decision only taken in desperate situations. She could feel her blood boiling inside her body, and with a single movement, Cyla burned her own blood essence—a precious life force, yet also the only way to push her power to an unprecedented peak.
Seeing what Cyla had done, Enha's once confident and mocking expression turned to panic. "Stop! Don't do that!" he shouted, his voice no longer filled with derision but with fear. He knew exactly what Cyla was doing—burning blood essence was an act of desperation, a forbidden technique used only in life-and-death situations. It was a technique that could destroy the opponent but would also destroy the user.
Cyla smirked, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, a sign that her body was already being eroded by the technique. "It's too late," she said in a low but victorious voice. "Ultimate Art: Destruction Thousand Sword Array, activate!"
The sky above them suddenly cracked, like shattered glass spreading from the center of Cyla's power. With a resounding roar that echoed throughout the heavens, thousands of energy swords materialized out of the void, each one radiating a piercing light. The swords spun around Cyla, forming a perfect formation ready to strike, filling the sky with a lethal aura.
Enha stared at the formation with wide eyes, his body trembling. He knew exactly what this technique was—a forbidden art from Cyla's sect, a last-resort technique used only in moments of utter hopelessness. Even he, a powerful and feared man, couldn't suppress the fear that crept into him.
"Crazy woman!" Enha shouted. In an instant, he turned and began tearing open the space around him, creating a portal to escape. He knew that the only way to survive this attack was to flee before the technique was unleashed.
But Cyla laughed, her voice eerie amid the downpour and thunderclaps. "It's too late!" She thrust her hand forward, and with that one motion, the thousands of energy swords shot towards Enha, each one carrying unimaginable destructive power.
Enha had already halfway entered the portal, but Cyla's attack was faster. The thousands of swords enveloped the space around Enha, striking his body just as he was about to escape into the portal. His scream echoed through the rain and thunder, his body being struck by the countless destructive forces. The portal collapsed instantly, torn apart by the force of the Destruction Thousand Sword Array, leaving Arkan trapped between dimensions, his body consumed by the light of the annihilating swords.
A massive explosion shook the sky, shattering clouds and sending shockwaves that could be felt on the ground below. The rain poured even harder, and lightning struck with unprecedented intensity, as if nature itself was reacting to the destruction that had just been unleashed above.