Chapter 44: Superbia (1)
"HUBRIS!"
A pillar of red flames erupted beneath Blake, soaring above the milky clouds and rending the pitch-dark skies. It carved out a hole reminiscent of the sun. Despite the intense radiance, a graceful shadow flickered at its base.
A black presence glided out from that shadow, extending her hands toward Blake's armor. She merged with him—fully and willingly—just as the little golden apple had before.
Blake's dark demon armor of Pride warped into a new form. The vambraces around his elbows stretched forward like extra bones, each tipped with a keen blade. Caught in the whirlwind of flames, his armor melded so completely with his body that it practically became his skin. His mask twisted his face into raw demonic features, with a sharper jawline and lengthened ears. The inferno within his mouth glowed behind razor teeth, as if they were prison bars holding it in.
DING!
BANG!
The pillar of flames scattered into flaming tendrils that shot out in every direction, revealing Blake's newly transformed figure to all.
Across from him, Kyria had already snapped his guild members out of their shock, forming them into small squads for the first wave of attacks.
Beside Blake, his teammates could scarcely believe the metamorphosis they were witnessing. His health and mana points had doubled. What about his other stats, or those unique to him alone?
Ignoring his dumbfounded teammates, Blake turned his golden, eagle-like eyes on his enemies and addressed Kyria directly.
"Watch and learn."
A sudden flood of power coursed through Blake, one that would fade within seconds, so he lunged at his foes.
His lightning-fast movement startled several members of Anonymous House, none of whom had witnessed such speed before. Yet Kyria held tight control—he had drilled discipline into each guild member, preparing them for nearly any situation. This was one of them.
"A single target. Everyone attack at once! ONE!" Kyria barked.
Blake responded with a howl of his own: "THREE!"
Those most caught off guard released their skills the instant they heard "THREE," even though it wasn't their leader's command. Arrows, fire bolts, water jets—all converged on Blake.
About fifteen skills converged on Blake, but his well-timed shout made them fire in scattered clusters, leaving gaps he could slip through in a blur.
He took it further, slicing through the nearest projectiles with rapid flicks, each parry resetting his Prideful Step's cooldown. He wove across the battlefield like an eastern dragon in flight, closing in on his targets with alarming speed. This was possible because he calculated everything with machine-like precision, and his heightened attack speed made his katana flicks almost invisible.
Kyria adjusted quickly. "Healers, cluster on me! Tanks, spread out! DPS, maintain your formations and don't let him slip by! Archers, watch pings one through five! Aim for his eyes!"
He used the guild system to pinpoint potential blind spots, covering them so Blake couldn't exploit them. Tanks also spaced themselves out to give the DPS clear lanes to attack.
Blake smirked.
He rushed a single tank who was better geared than the one Blake had cleared the dungeon with. Blake deliberately opened his guard, and at the last moment, he raised his katana overhead.
"STAY PUT!" the tank roared.
A bestial taunt crashed into Blake's chest, forcing him to focus solely on the tank. Though the skill was straightforward—forcing the target to attack the taunter—it could be either devastating or easily manipulated.
Even under its influence, Blake masterfully swung his katana, now heavier from Pride's Weight Enchantment. His blow descended like a meteor onto the man's shield, driving it down and rooting the defender in place. This disrupted the chain of taunts before they could take hold.
Blake then evaded further crowd control like a football player weaving through defenders, leaving the tank behind. He slipped into another skirmish zone as a volley of arrows rained down on him like an avalanche.
At that moment, he felt a blazing heat surge from his chest into his throat. He puffed out his chest, gathered the roiling energy, and exhaled it all at once—a torrent of puffy flames not unlike the milky clouds overhead.
Every arrow burned to ash.
What delighted Blake most was that he could peer through his own flames without hindrance, while everyone else saw only a wall of fire. His eyes gleamed at the perfect chance to get closer to the healers.
'Well done, Sol. That's your influence,' Blake thought, charging through the flames with a single-minded purpose. His eyes glowed brighter, and he heard a faint, contented whimper from within.
Emerging in the midst of the melee fighters, he slashed with his katana before they even realized he was there. Each swipe was so quick and precise that he disarmed every melee opponent, regardless of their weapon. To the enemy, Blake's arm seemed to bend and twist at impossible angles they had never been trained to defend against. The sheer difference in skill brought them down with minimal effort.
Now down to twenty-nine enemies, Blake locked eyes with Kyria, who stood guarded by all his healers. Blake smiled.
Kyria narrowed his gaze, clearly reading the unspoken message.
"I'm coming for you," Blake said.