Novel Full Chapter 947 One Player Vs One Guild [Part 4]
Villain Ch 947. One Player Vs One Guild [Part 4] Read latest chapters on My Virtual Library Empire
The sound of the blast was deafening, a powerful wave of energy that reverberated through the battlefield. Players collided with each other and the ground, their armor clanking and bones cracking upon impact. The pain was immediate and intense, but Allen’s assault was far from over.
“Demonic Orbs!” he intoned, his voice dripping with malevolent delight. Dark, pulsating orbs of energy materialized around him, swirling with an ominous glow. He directed them towards the players who were still suspended in the air, their bodies vulnerable and defenseless.
The orbs shot forward with deadly accuracy, striking the airborne players with explosive force. Each impact was accompanied by a burst of dark energy, tearing through armor and flesh alike. The screams of the players echoed through the hall, a chorus of agony and despair. Health bars plummeted, many reaching zero in a matter of seconds.
The sound of the Demonic Orbs colliding with their targets was a symphony of destruction, each explosion a sharp crack that echoed through the smoke and debris-filled air. The players’ cries mixed with the sound of shattering barriers and the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground.
– Bam -Bam -Bam
The sound of players’ bodies falling around Allen was a gruesome symphony, each thud adding to the grim tableau of death and destruction. It was as if it were raining corpses, their blood splashing and pooling around him. Allen opened his arms wide, letting out an evil laugh filled with satisfaction, reveling in the chaos and carnage he had wrought.
But then, his laughter abruptly ceased. His keen senses picked up the whistle of an arrow slicing through the air towards him. With a swift motion, Allen brushed it aside with his sword, the arrow splintering into fragments upon impact. His eyes locked onto his attacker, a hunter named James, who stood defiant despite his injuries.
James’s HP bar was still more than half full, indicating he had recently healed. Two broken flasks near his feet confirmed this, the remnants of potent healing potions beginning to disappear. James’s eyes were fixed on Allen, filled with a mix of determination and fear.
Allen’s instincts screamed at him. It was unusual for a hunter to confront him so boldly, especially when faced with such overwhelming power. Hunters were typically ranged attackers, preferring to keep their distance and strike from afar. This face-to-face confrontation suggested something more. James was acting as a distraction.
Realizing the trap, Allen’s mind raced. He couldn’t afford to fall into their ploy, but he also couldn’t ignore the challenge. With a calculated move, he assessed the situation, scanning the battlefield for any signs of the true threat.
Suddenly, from the smoke and chaos, a group of melee fighters made their move. Their movements were coordinated. They didn’t attack Allen from the front but from behind. Concealed in the shadows atop the pillars, the rogues and assassins had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
With James serving as the perfect distraction, they seized their chance, leaping down towards Allen with fearless precision, their blades gleaming ominously in the dim light.
Allen’s senses were razor-sharp. He heard the faint rustle of movement behind him, the barely audible whispers of their cloaks fluttering in the descent. He turned just in time to see them descending like a pack of predators, their eyes glinting with deadly intent.
Among them was Gil. Gil’s blade was aimed directly at Allen’s back, poised to deliver a fatal strike. The others followed suit, their movements synchronized in deadly harmony.
Allen’s grin returned, a savage smile that conveyed both his excitement and contempt. “You think you can surprise me?” he taunted, his voice a dark murmur that carried through the air.
He spun around with a flourish, his sword slicing through the air in a wide arc. The first rogue’s blade clashed with his own, the sound of steel on steel ringing out sharply. Sparks flew as their weapons met, and Allen pushed forward with brutal force, sending the rogue stumbling back.
The second rogue lunged at him from the side, but Allen anticipated the move. With a swift sidestep, he brought his sword down in a deadly arc, slicing through the rogue’s armor and into his flesh. A cry of pain echoed through the hall as the rogue fell to the ground, blood pooling around him.
The other assassins didn’t hesitate. They moved in unison, their daggers flashing in the dim light. Allen deflected their strikes with fluid movements, his sword a blur as it parried and countered each attack. The clang of metal against metal filled the air.
Gil, watching the battle unfold, saw an opening. He darted forward, his movements quick and silent. His blades were aimed at Allen’s heart, the tips glinting with a deadly promise. But Allen was ready. He twisted his body, avoiding the strike by mere inches, and retaliated with a powerful upward slash.
Gil barely managed to block the attack, the force of it sending him reeling. Allen pressed his advantage, his strikes relentless and precise. He drove Gil back, their blades dancing in a deadly duel. Gil’s eyes narrowed with determination, but Allen’s smirk never wavered.
“You’re good,” Allen taunted, his voice a dark whisper. “But not good enough.”
With a sudden burst of speed, Allen sidestepped another assassin’s attack and thrust his sword into the rogue’s side. His eyes were still on Gil. The rogue gasped, his body convulsing as life drained from him. Allen pulled his sword free, the blade slick with blood, and turned to face the remaining enemies.
He was about to continue his battle with Gil, but another voice rang. “Surround him!” said one assassin.
The assassins circled him, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and resolve. They knew they were outmatched, but they pressed on, their desperation driving them forward. Allen moved like a predator, his sword slicing through the air with lethal precision.
One by one, the assassins fell. Allen’s blade cut through their defenses, his movements a blur of deadly grace. Each strike was calculated, and each kill was efficient. The ground was littered with the bodies of his foes, their blood staining the stone floor.