Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Chapter 83: Ultimate Comeback

The black-haired man stood frozen in place, his body trembling with shock. His wide eyes were filled with disbelief as the realization struck him—his most powerful attack had been effortlessly stopped.

The flame that had once roared with his confidence now flickered weakly in his grasp, snuffed out by the terrifying force that was Lucy.

His two comrades, the ponytailed mage and the spiky-haired warrior, were no better off. Their faces had turned ashen, their earlier bravado drained away like the last embers of a dying fire.

The sheer horror of the situation had left them speechless, their minds struggling to comprehend how their combined efforts, their very last reserves of mana, had been rendered utterly useless against the girl who now stood before them.

Lucy's smirk deepened, a chilling expression that only added to the growing dread in the men's hearts. She took a step forward, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring the fear that now radiated from her opponents.

"Did you really think," she began, her voice dripping with scorn, "that while you were busy preparing your ultimate attack, I was just standing here doing nothing?" Her tone was mocking, laced with a cold amusement that sent shivers down their spines.

The black-haired man's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His mind was a whirl of panic, desperately searching for an explanation, a way out—anything that could make sense of the nightmare that was unfolding before him.

Lucy tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with disdain. "How foolish," she continued, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "How utterly stupid of you to think that."

The spiky-haired man managed to find his voice, though it quivered with fear. "W-what are you—"

His question was cut off by Lucy's cold, mirthless laughter, a sound that echoed eerily through the arena. "Did you really think I wouldn't prepare my own ultimate skill?" she taunted, her eyes gleaming with a cruel light. "You thought you could outmaneuver me, outpower me? How naïve."

Without warning, Lucy's left hand tightened around the flaming sword she had caught mid-strike. The muscles in her arm tensed, and with a quick, powerful motion, she crushed the blade as if it were made of glass, reducing it to nothing but shattered fragments that scattered to the ground.

The black-haired man gasped in horror, his disbelief quickly spiraling into sheer terror as the reality of his situation sank in. His mind screamed for him to move, to do something—anything—but before he could even react, Lucy's right hand shot forward with blinding speed.

The punch connected with such devastating force that it felt like a sledgehammer smashing into his chest, driving the air from his lungs and crushing his last shred of hope.

The sheer power behind Lucy's strike was overwhelming, and the black-haired man's body was sent hurtling through the air like a ragdoll, completely at the mercy of her strength. He could feel the world spinning around him, his thoughts a chaotic whirl as he flew helplessly toward his comrades.

The spiky-haired man's eyes widened in terror as he realized what was about to happen. "No... No! I need to run!" he screamed, panic surging through him as he desperately tried to scramble away, his limbs moving frantically in a bid to escape the impending collision.

But it was too late.

The black-haired man, propelled by Lucy's tremendous strength, crashed into both the ponytailed mage and the spiky-haired man with the force of a cannonball.

The impact was brutal, knocking them down like dominoes, their bodies collapsing into a tangled heap of limbs and pain. The spiky-haired man let out a strangled cry as he hit the ground, his fear now fully realized.

"Get off me!" the ponytailed mage screamed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation. His hands fumbled frantically as he tried to shove the black-haired man off him, but the crushing weight and force of the impact were too overwhelming.

His breath came in ragged gasps, panic tightening his chest as he realized just how powerless he was beneath the heavy, motionless body.

"Please, move!" he pleaded, his voice cracking under the strain of his terror. "We need to get out of here—she's going to kill us!" The urgency in his tone was unmistakable, every word dripping with the dread that had now consumed him.

The spiky-haired man, entangled in the mess of limbs, tried to push himself up, his face pale and eyes wide with horror. "I don't want to die!" he choked out, his voice a frantic whimper. "We have to do something—anything!"

But as they struggled in vain, their movements growing weaker with each passing second, Lucy's smirk only grew wider, her expression twisted into a wicked grin.

Her eyes gleamed with a sinister light, relishing the fear that radiated from the two men. They were trapped, helpless, and she was in complete control.

Lucy's gaze locked onto them, her amusement evident in the slow, deliberate way she raised her hand. With a flick of her fingers, she sealed their fate. Her voice, low and dripping with menace, cut through the air like a blade. "Eruption."

The three men barely had time to comprehend the word before their fate was sealed. Their screams of desperation and terror were cut short as the black-haired man's body erupted, the explosion engulfing all three in a violent burst of flames and energy.

The sound of their final, futile cries was drowned out by the deafening roar of the blast, which reduced them to nothing but ash in an instant.

As the dust and debris settled, an eerie silence fell over the arena. The once-mighty opponents, who had taunted and mocked Lucy just moments before, were now obliterated—nothing more than charred remnants scattered across the battlefield.

The contrast between the silence and the violence that had just occurred was stark, leaving the audience in stunned disbelief.

Lucy stood amidst the destruction, her laughter echoing through the arena like the manic cackle of a madwoman who had just taken perverse delight in her victory.

The sound was unnerving, sending chills down the spines of those who heard it. Slowly, she turned her gaze toward the audience, her expression cold and filled with dark satisfaction.

"Do any of you still dare to bully me?" she asked, her voice carrying a mocking edge that cut through the silence like a knife.

The threat hung heavily in the air, the weight of her words sinking into the hearts of everyone present. The audience, filled with both fear and awe, remained silent.

No one dared to challenge her further, the memory of what had just transpired a vivid reminder of the consequences of underestimating Lucy.