Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Chapter 81: The Desperation of the Last Three

The three remaining men were paralyzed with fear, their faces drained of color as they struggled to comprehend the brutal deaths of their comrades. The once smug confidence they had flaunted was now replaced with a raw, palpable terror that clung to them like a shadow.

Their eyes darted to Lucy, who stood motionless, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos she had unleashed. The realization that they were facing an overwhelming and seemingly unstoppable force gnawed at their resolve.

The man with a ponytail, his voice shaking with barely concealed panic, turned desperately to their leader, the spiky-haired man. "Boss, what do we do now?" he asked, his words coming out in a rushed, anxious whisper.

The spiky-haired man's gaze flickered between his two remaining allies and Lucy. His eyes, usually sharp with arrogance, now betrayed a growing sense of dread. Lucy's cold, unwavering stare bore into them, as if daring them to make their move.

"I saw how our friends died," he muttered, his voice tight with fear as he struggled to maintain control. His expression hardened, though the unease in his eyes was unmistakable. "They exploded... after she punched them. We can't let her touch us—no matter what."

He paused, his mind racing as he calculated their next move. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating, as the gravity of the situation pressed down on them. "Mage," he ordered, his voice dropping to a grave tone, "put a shield around us both."

The ponytailed man nodded frantically, his hands trembling as he began to channel his energy. "Right away, boss," he stammered, his focus shifting to the task at hand.

With a deep breath, he conjured a Wind Shield, the protective barrier swirling to life around both the spiky-haired man and the black-haired muscular man.

With their shields in place, the two men, now trembling with a volatile mix of fear and rage, charged toward Lucy. Their faces twisted with fury, and their eyes burned with the desperate desire for revenge.

"You'll pay for this!" the spiky-haired man snarled, his voice thick with anger. "We'll make sure you suffer for killing our friends!"

The black-haired man echoed his sentiment, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "You think you can just slaughter us and walk away? We'll tear you apart!"

But Lucy, hearing their threats, merely let out a cold, mocking laugh. Her eyes narrowed, and a cruel smile played on her lips as she stared them down.

"Suffer?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "The only ones who will suffer are those foolish enough to provoke me and mention my dear brother."

Her expression darkened, her tone turning icy as she continued, "You brought this on yourselves. If you die, you have no one to blame but your own arrogance." Lucy's words cut through the air like a blade, her confidence unwavering in the face of their fury.

Without a moment's hesitation, Lucy charged into battle, her movements swift and purposeful. The spiky-haired man, his face twisted with fury and desperation, drew his sword.

"Flame Slash!" he roared, his voice echoing with a mix of anger and fear as he swung his blade, sending a blazing arc of fire racing toward her.

The black-haired man wasn't far behind. He unsheathed his own sword, the metal glinting ominously as he unleashed a powerful Battle Cry that reverberated through the arena. "This will crush you!" he bellowed, his intent clear as he sought to weaken Lucy and bolster his own strength.

But to their growing horror, Lucy appeared utterly unfazed by the Battle Cry's effects. Instead of faltering, she pressed forward, her expression a mask of cold confidence.

As the flaming slash and the black-haired man's sword closed in on her, Lucy's lips curled into a smirk, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Is this really the best you can do?" she taunted, her voice dripping with condescension.

In a blur of motion, Lucy caught both swords in her hands with effortless precision. The men stared in disbelief as she tightened her grip, their weapons trembling in her grasp. With a casual flick of her wrists, she snapped the blades as if they were nothing more than brittle twigs.

Their eyes widened in shock, their bravado crumbling in the face of her overwhelming power. "How... how is she this strong?" the spiky-haired man stammered, his voice laced with disbelief.

But before they could react, Lucy's fists were already moving, striking with deadly intent. "Now die," she hissed, her tone icy and unyielding as she unleashed her devastating move. "Eruption!"

The explosive force surged from her fists, but instead of obliterating the men's bodies, it was their Wind Shields that bore the brunt of the impact. The shields erupted in a violent burst, shattering under the immense pressure.

The men were hurled backward by the force, landing hard on the ground with a thud. Dazed and gasping for breath, they struggled to comprehend what had just happened. But as they quickly realized, they were still alive—though only barely.

Lucy stood over them, her smirk widening in amusement. "To think you haven't died yet... you're pretty resilient, aren't you?" Her tone was mocking, but there was a flicker of genuine interest in her eyes, as if she were curious about just how much more they could endure.

The spiky-haired man, his body trembling as he tried to push himself back onto his feet, cursed under his breath. "Damn it... what do we do now?" he muttered, his voice thick with desperation.

The bravado he had shown earlier was gone, replaced by a growing sense of hopelessness as he realized they were running out of options—and fast.

"We... we need a plan," the black-haired man stammered, his voice quivering with fear. But even as he spoke, the words felt hollow. They both knew that whatever plan they might come up with, it would be no match for the relentless force that was Lucy.