The chamber seemed to hold its breath, frozen in time with the knights as its silent sentinels. Damien, the sole master of movement in this icy tableau, surveyed the scene with a sense of smug satisfaction, his expression a chilling blend of power and disdain.
To Damien, this moment epitomized the inevitable outcome when mere aspiring immortals dared to challenge a being of his magnitude. Rose and her knights, in their futile defiance, had learned the harsh reality of their insignificance in the face of his divine power.
Just as Damien prepared to depart, the oppressive silence shattered like fragile glass with a whispered plea.
Rose's voice, though encased in ice, echoed through the chamber with an intensity that belied her frozen state. "Please," she implored, her words a fragile melody of desperation, "spare them."
Turning to face her, Damien's lips curled into a sneer, his eyes alight with mocking amusement as he regarded her with contemptuous amusement.
"And what's this?" he taunted, his voice dripping with derision. "I didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat yourself, my dear?"
Rose's voice trembled as she repeated her plea, her words a fragile entreaty for mercy. "I beg you to release them. They shouldn't suffer for my sins."
A cruel smirk twisted Damien's lips as he feigned admiration for her selflessness. "Such a kind heart," he remarked mockingly, "even in your own predicament."
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Damien commanded the ice imprisoning the knights to melt away, freeing them from their frozen confines. As the icy shackles fell away, the knights gasped, their bodies trembling from the biting cold that still lingered in the air.
Beneath the surface, however, a simmering fury burned within them, their anger a palpable force that seemed to radiate from their very beings.
Damien's voice cut through the lingering tension like a sharpened blade, his words dripping with false benevolence. "Your lord has just interceded on your behalf," he announced, his tone laced with a chilling arrogance, "and I have decided to show mercy. You are free to leave while I am still feeling generous."
But the chamber remained cloaked in an oppressive silence, the knights unmoving and defiant. They stood like statues, their resolve unyielding despite Damien's proclamation.
The knights didn't hesitate to match his energy as they did the same. They moved with calculated precision, attacking Damien from different angles in a synchronized assault. Their strikes were swift and precise, each blow landing with the force of a gunshot. But Damien was a certified lord, and the difference in their prowess was glaringly apparent.
He parried their attacks effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. Damien was faster, stronger, always two steps ahead of his adversaries. Yet, the knights were fueled by unbridled rage for what Damien had done, and they refused to relent in their assault.
As Gunther stepped back from the fray, his brothers continued to press the attack. Meanwhile, he began to conjure a swirling shadow ball in his hand, its bright light gleaming ominously.
The ball grew in size until it resembled a basketball, and with a powerful thrust, Gunther launched it at Damien. Simultaneously, Reggie and Randal seized the opening created by the distraction, closing in on Damien from different angles.
Damien braced himself for the impact of the shadow ball, but to his surprise, he felt no pain. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he realized something was amiss. Before he could react, the knights launched another coordinated attack, converging on him from all sides.
A smirk tugged at Damien's lips as he recognized their strategy. He could see a punch coming from his side, Reggie's fist flying furiously towards his face. Yet, his realization came too late. Reggie's punch connected with his face, sending him skidding backward across the icy floor, shattering shards of it.
Randal followed with a swift kick to the back of his head, and before Damien could recover, Reggie unleashed a barrage of punches, driving him back until he collided with a wall, shattering the ice there.
He spat out blood, gasping for breath before he fell to one knee, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through his body. It was then that he understood—the shadow ball had not been a mere distraction. It had slowed him down enough for the knights to exploit his vulnerability and land their devastating blows.
Without hesitation, the knights were right on Damien yet again.
Damien saw Gunther conjuring up yet another shadow ball in his hands again while his brothers flanked him from left and right coming in hot on him.
Once beaten, twice shy. He anticipated their next move, his mind already plotting his counterattack.
Damien's lips curled into a smirk as he waved his hand, enveloping the room in a cool haze. Seeing what the strange shadow ball could do, Damien was no longer taking any chances.
The knights froze in their tracks, their movements stilled by the sudden obscuration of their surroundings. Damien's keen eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched them struggle to navigate through the haze. Damien seized the opportunity, his movements swift and calculated as he vanished into the fog.