Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

The spiky-haired man quickly surveyed the chaotic scene, his heart pounding as the realization of their dire situation sank in. Panic threatened to take hold, but he forced it down, knowing he had to keep a clear head.

"We need to fall back, now!" he barked at the black-haired man, his voice laced with urgency and frustration. "We can't just charge in blindly—we need a plan!"

The black-haired man, though visibly shaken, nodded in agreement. Both men retreated swiftly, their movements tense and wary, until they reached the safety of the ponytailed mage who had been anxiously watching the battle unfold from a distance.

"What do we do now?" the ponytail man asked, his voice trembling with fear as he glanced nervously back at Lucy. "She's... she's too strong. This isn't normal!"

The spiky-haired man gritted his teeth, a mixture of anger and fear flashing in his eyes. "I know!" he snapped, his frustration spilling over. "Her attack skills are off the charts—more powerful than anything we expected. If we don't end this in one strike, we're finished!"

He paused, his mind racing as he considered their options. Finally, he drew his sword with a determined glare, the blade glinting ominously in the light.

With a swift motion, he ignited the sword with a burst of flames, the fire dancing along the edge of the blade. Turning to the black-haired man, his tone shifted to one of grim resolve.

"You're the strongest physically out of all of us. You're the only one who can deliver the final blow. Take this," he said, handing over the flaming sword with a look of intense focus. "Use this fire sword and make sure she doesn't get up."

The black-haired man took the sword, his hands trembling slightly as he felt the heat of the flames. He looked up at the spiky-haired man, his expression a mix of determination and fear. "I'll do it," he said, his voice low but resolute. "I'll kill her."

The spiky-haired man turned to the ponytail mage, his eyes wild with a mix of command and desperation. "You!" he barked, his voice sharp and cutting through the tension. "Use your magic—boost his strength. We need every possible advantage right now, or we're dead!"

The mage's hands trembled as he met the spiky-haired man's gaze, the fear in his eyes mirroring his own. "I... I understand," the mage stammered, swallowing hard as he tried to steady his nerves.

He quickly raised his hands, his fingers twitching with barely contained panic as he focused his energy. "Wind Blessing!" he called out, his voice cracking slightly under the strain.

A swirling vortex of wind materialized around the black-haired man, wrapping him in a protective and empowering gust. The wind whipped around him, enhancing his speed and strength, while the flames on his sword flared with newfound intensity.

The roaring fire danced along the blade, fueled by the wind, transforming the weapon into a blazing inferno that looked more lethal than ever.

The black-haired man's eyes narrowed, his fear giving way to a dark determination. He could feel the power coursing through him, and it ignited a fierce resolve within him. "This ends now," he muttered to himself, his voice low and venomous.

As he gripped the flaming sword tighter, he activated his skill, "Sword Edge," channeling his mana into the blade. The sword's edge shimmered with a deadly sharpness, the air around it crackling with energy.

His eyes locked onto Lucy, hatred burning in his gaze. "I'll kill that bitch," he snarled, his voice filled with venom. The thought of avenging his fallen comrades and reclaiming his pride fueled his rage, pushing him to the brink of recklessness.

With a guttural roar, the black-haired man let out a Battle Cry, the sound reverberating through the arena. The cry amplified his strength even further, pushing his body to its limits as he prepared for the final assault.

His muscles tensed, and without another word, he launched himself toward Lucy with blinding speed, the wind propelling him forward like a storm unleashed.

As he closed the distance between them, the black-haired man raised the enormous flaming sword high above his head, the blade glowing with the combined power of fire and wind.

His expression twisted into one of grim determination, his teeth gritted as he summoned every bit of strength he had left. "This is your end!" he roared, his voice echoing through the arena like a war cry. "Heavy Strike!"

With every ounce of power coursing through his veins, he brought the sword crashing down toward Lucy, fully intent on delivering the blow that would end her life and secure his revenge. The flames on the blade roared with a ferocious intensity, while the wind howled like a storm unleashed.

The sheer force of his attack was so immense that the ground beneath them trembled, cracks forming in the stone as his sword descended.

But just as the blade was about to make contact, it stopped—caught mid-air. The black-haired man's eyes went wide, shock and disbelief flooding his features. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what had happened.

Lucy stood there, her left hand raised, and the flaming sword was gripped tightly in her burning stone hand. The transformation of her hand into this unyielding, molten rock had stopped his attack cold, as if all his power meant nothing.

"What…?" the black-haired man gasped, his voice trembling with disbelief. "How… How is this possible?"

Lucy's smirk widened, a cold and calculating look in her eyes as she locked her gaze onto his. Her voice was dripping with icy confidence, almost mocking him for his futile efforts. "You're strong enough to make me use my new skill," she said, her tone laced with condescension.

She watched the fear creep into his eyes, relishing the shift in power. His bravado crumbled before her, and she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a menacing whisper. "But this… this is the end for all of you."