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Slay the Spire : Blood Battle
墨書 Inktalez
On the third level of the Spire, the cold stone walls were etched with strange monsters and deities, and an ominous mist hung in the air. Ironclad felt an unprecedented sense of oppression, but his heart held only one goal: to defeat the monster before him—the Awakener—and its followers, in hopes of continuing his ascent to the peak of the Spire and unraveling its mysteries.
As he ventured deeper into the final area, a vast chamber unfolded before him. In the center of the room stood the Awakener, its form a blend between human and bird, with dark, expansive wings and eyes that radiated coldness and malevolence. Surrounding it were several followers clad in avian masks, their eyes filled only with blind worship and fervor. They did not speak; instead, they mimicked the sharp cries of crows, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
As he approached, the Awakener slowly spread its wings, and the followers lined up, ready to engage in battle. Ironclad took a deep breath, swung his sword with force, and the fight officially began. The sharp blade intertwined with the dark powers, and the piercing screams echoed alongside the sound of clashing swords in this desolate space.
When he took his first step, the followers charged at him like puppets on strings. Their movements were strange and unpredictable, but Ironclad's swordsmanship was skilled and decisive; each strike found its mark on the enemies' vital points. However, the Awakener did not participate in the battle; it simply stood still, seemingly observing the changes on the battlefield. Nearby, the Cultists rushed forward with their small sickles raised high. These Cultists frequently appeared throughout the tower, their power growing stronger over time. Ironclad knew he could not allow them to linger nearby, so he decided to unleash Whirlwind, delivering multiple attacks against all of his foes.
Ironclad felt the blood boiling in his veins, his heartbeat quickening. He knew that the decision he made in this moment would affect the entire battle. Gripping his sword tightly, the tip traced a perfect circle in the air, heralding the storm about to erupt. He took a deep breath, as if drawing in all the surrounding air into his chest, then exhaled sharply. With his breath, the sword began to move, creating waves of wind.
His body started to spin, sweeping across the battlefield like a tempest. His sword danced faster and faster, the wind forming massive whirlpools that drew in those Cultists who dared to approach. His swordsmanship seemed to possess a mysterious power; each rotation carried with it the force to tear through space. The Cultists were left bloodied and mangled by the cutting winds, their small scythes appearing feeble against the might of Whirlwind. Their screams echoed across the battlefield, but in Ironclad's heart, there was only a cold resolve.
His spinning speed grew faster and faster, and the force of the sword wind became increasingly powerful. The Cultists could not withstand it, falling one by one into pools of blood. The sword wind traced beautiful yet deadly arcs in the air, as if the Grim Reaper's scythe was reaping lives. With each rotation of the blade, Ironclad felt a sense of relief and an increase in power. He knew that this battle would unveil more mysteries of the Spire.
The fight ended, but the power of Whirlwind still lingered in the air, and blood slowly seeped into the ground, forming patches of red flowers. The Awakener stood quietly in place, seemingly indifferent to the bloodshed on the battlefield; its eyes held only coldness and observation. Ironclad understood that this was just the beginning of the Spire's trials, with each layer presenting greater challenges. However, he had no choice but to move forward. Gripping his sword tightly, he walked toward the Awakener, knowing that the key to breaking the curse might lie within this mysterious being.
As Ironclad defeated three Cultists with Whirlwind, the Goblin Horn on him began to shimmer. Each time he vanquished an enemy, the Goblin Horn granted Ironclad an inexhaustible vitality. He understood that the battle against the Awakener would be a long one, so he immediately activated Demon Form. A surge of pain erupted from deep within him, stimulating Ironclad's senses; however, he knew this was the fastest way to gain power.
His body began to transform, his skin hardening like charred coal scorched by flames, and his eyes turned a fiery red, emanating a terrifying glow. He felt a powerful force flowing deep within him, elevating his body to a whole new realm. His sword also changed alongside him, becoming sharper and adorned with imposing runes.
He charged at the Awakener, each step seeming to shake the ground. The Awakener remained still, but a flicker of unusual light flashed in its eyes. Ironclad sensed a dangerous aura, yet he did not retreat; he knew that only by confronting this could he lift the curse of the spire.
He swung his sword, the blade slicing through the air and stirring up a wave of scorching wind. The Awakener finally moved, its speed almost instantaneous as it flashed in front of Ironclad. Ironclad felt an overwhelming sense of pressure, but he did not falter; he brought his sword down, engaging in a fierce battle with the Awakener.
As the battle progressed, Ironclad felt his strength continuously growing. Each swing of his sword brought him closer to the truth. However, the power of the Awakener was also formidable; each attack made Ironclad feel the looming threat of death. Yet, in his heart, there was only unwavering conviction. He knew that only by defeating the Awakener could he approach the core of the Spire and lift that incredible curse.
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