Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me-Chapter 123: Alix Arrival (part 2)
As Alix's formidable aura radiates across the battlefield, Zinov's expression tightens. He takes a deep breath, centering himself, and begins his own incantation. Flames flicker to life around him, intensifying as he activates his Tier 5 buff skill:
Infernal Empowerment: A fiery glow envelops Zinov, amplifying his fire elemental abilities to their peak potential.
The ground beneath Zinov scorches as waves of heat emanate from his form. His confidence is bolstered not only by this enhancement but also by the formidable Tier 5 armor he wears, renowned for its resilience against both physical and magical assaults.
Alix observes Zinov's transformation with a calm, assessing gaze. The air between them crackles with tension, the clash of their auras causing the very atmosphere to tremble.
Without further warning, Zinov raises his hand, summoning a blazing inferno that spirals around his sword. The flames dance menacingly, reflecting in his determined eyes. Alix responds by tightening his grip on his own weapon, its blade shimmering with a blend of arcane energy and sheer force.
The battlefield stands still for a heartbeat, the world holding its breath as two titans prepare to clash. Then, with a simultaneous surge, they charge at each other, the ground quaking beneath their might.
Their weapons meet in an explosive collision of fire and energy, illuminating the surroundings with blinding light. The sheer force of their encounter sends shockwaves rippling outward, toppling nearby trees and scattering debris.
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Zinov presses forward, his fire-enhanced strikes coming in rapid succession, each swing aiming to overwhelm Alix's defenses. Yet, Alix moves with uncanny agility, parrying and countering with precision, his buffs enhancing his speed and strength to match Zinov's ferocity.
As the duel intensifies, the very air becomes a maelstrom of heat and energy, the landscape around them bearing the scars of their monumental battle. Each combatant seeks an opening, a momentary lapse, that could turn the tide in their favor.
The battlefield quakes under the might of Alix and Zinov's clash, their auras colliding in a tempest of power. Zinov, clad in his formidable Tier 5 armor, channels his "Infernal Empowerment," flames wreathing his form as he presses the attack. Alix, bathed in the golden glow of "Sovereign's Might," meets each strike with unwavering resolve, his movements a blur thanks to "Temporal Acceleration."
Seizing an opening, Alix raises his hand, invoking "Stormcall" (Tier 5). Dark clouds swirl overhead, and with a deafening crack, a massive bolt of lightning descends upon Zinov. The ground erupts in sparks and smoke as the electricity courses through Zinov's armor.
Zinov staggers but quickly regains his footing, his eyes blazing. "It's crazy how this guy has so many Tier 5 skills. He might really be from the other continent," he thought.
As the storm's fury subsides, Alix stands resolute, his gaze fixed upon Zinov. The battlefield, scarred by their clash, smolders with residual energy. Zinov, though visibly injured, refuses to yield. His eyes blaze with determination as he steadies himself, gripping his sword tightly.
Alix inclines his head slightly, acknowledging Zinov's resolve. "Your tenacity is commendable," he said.
Without further warning, Alix raises his hand, invoking his next Tier 5 skill:
Eruption: The ground beneath Zinov's feet trembles violently before erupting in a geyser of molten lava. The scorching magma engulfs Zinov, searing his armor and flesh alike. He cries out in agony, barely managing to fly away from the molten onslaught. His once-pristine armor now bears the marks of intense heat, portions of it warped and smoldering.
Zinov in the sky, seeking refuge from the relentless assault. His armor, though formidable, now have dents, testaments to the intensity of their clash. The air around him shimmers with residual heat as he hovers, attempting to catch his breath and reassess the situation.
Alix, undeterred, watches Zinov's ascent with a calm, predatory gaze. With a subtle flex of his legs, he propels himself upward, effortlessly joining Zinov in the heavens. The two warriors now face each other amidst the clouds, the vast expanse of the battlefield stretching out below them.
"Running won't save you," Alix remarks, his voice carrying effortlessly through the thinning air.
Zinov's eyes narrow, a mixture of frustration and determination flickering within them. "I'm not running," he retorts, tightening his grip on his sword. "I'm strategizing."
Alix offers a faint smile, unimpressed. Without further ado, he raises his hand, summoning his next Tier 5 skill:
Celestial Barrage: The sky darkens as luminous, ethereal spears materialize around Alix, each pulsating with raw energy. With a swift motion, he directs them toward Zinov.
Zinov's eyes widen as the spears hurtle toward him with unerring precision. He maneuvers desperately, managing to evade the first few projectiles. However, the sheer number overwhelms him, and several spears pierce through his defenses, searing his flesh and eliciting grunts of pain.
As the ethereal spears of Alix's "Celestial Barrage" dissipate, leaving trails of shimmering light, Zinov hovers amidst the thinning clouds, his breath ragged and labored. The searing pain from multiple wounds gnaws at his resolve. He thinks, "If this continues, I will really die here."
His gaze locks onto Alix, who remains composed, an enigmatic figure whose origins and abilities are shrouded in mystery. Zinov's mind races, unable to discern the nature of the adversary before him. The sheer number of Tier 5 skills Alix commands is staggering, each one executed with devastating precision.
Determined to make a final stand, Zinov clenches his fists, summoning the last vestiges of his strength. He knows that retreat is the only viable option, but not without delivering a parting blow. Channeling his remaining energy, he invokes his ultimate Tier 5 skill:
Infernal Cataclysm: A maelstrom of fire and brimstone erupts around Zinov, coalescing into a massive sphere of incandescent fury. With a primal roar, he hurls the blazing orb toward Alix, the very air igniting in its wake.
Alix's eyes narrow as the fiery onslaught hurtles toward him. He raises his sword, and with a swift, fluid motion, he calls upon another Tier 5 skill:
Abyssal Maelstrom: Dark, swirling winds infused with shadowy energy spiral around Alix, forming a vortex that collides with the incoming inferno. The two forces clash violently, creating a cacophony of roaring flames and howling winds. The sky itself seems to tremble as the opposing energies vie for dominance.
The resulting explosion engulfs the battlefield in a blinding light, shockwaves rippling outward, scattering clouds and shaking the earth below. As the brilliance fades, Alix emerges unscathed.
As the echoes of their previous clash fade, Zinov breath is ragged and limbs heavy. The relentless exchange has drained him, and the searing pain from his wounds.
Alix remains composed. Though the use of multiple Tier 5 skills has nearly depleted his mana, he still has enough mana to employ Tier 4 abilities—more than sufficient to end this confrontation.
Alix's eyes narrow as he assesses Zinov's deteriorated state. With a swift motion, he raises his sword, its blade gleaming ominously. He channels his energy into a Tier 4 skill:
Arcane Crescent: A sweeping arc of condensed magical energy surges from Alix's blade, slicing through the air toward Zinov with lethal precision.
Zinov's eyes widen as the shimmering wave hurtles toward him. Summoning his waning strength, he raises his own sword, attempting to parry the incoming attack. The collision sends a jarring shock through his body, forcing him back several feet. His muscles scream in protest, exhaustion threatening to overtake him.
Alix doesn't relent. He advances, unleashing a flurry of Tier 4 skills in rapid succession:
Gale Strikes: Blades of wind slice through the atmosphere, each one aimed with deadly accuracy at Zinov.
Stone Lance: Jagged spears of rock erupt from the ground, targeting Zinov's position with unyielding force.
Zinov dodges and deflects as best he can, but the relentless assault begins to overwhelm him. For the first time in years, a sensation he thought long buried resurfaces—fear. The stark realization grips him: "If this continues, I will die here." But then, a surge of determination flares within him. "No," he thinks fiercely, "I will not die here. His Majesty still needs me."
Below the soldiers locked in fierce combat witness Zinov's desperate attempts to evade Alix's relentless assault in the sky. The once-dominant marshal now resembles a frightened rat, darting through the sky, his fiery aura dimmed. This unexpected turn sows confusion among his ground forces, their morale wavering as they glance upward, distracted by their leader's plight.
Encircling these disoriented troops are the Shadows. Until now, the soldiers' tight formation had stymied the Shadows' efforts, presenting a formidable wall of shields and spears. But as uncertainty spreads through the ranks, gaps begin to appear in their defense. The disciplined cohesion that once held firm starts to unravel.
Seizing this opportunity, the Shadows move with synchronized lethality. They slip through the faltering defenses, blades flashing under the dim sky. Silent and efficient, they exploit every opening, their daggers finding chinks in armor, their movements a blur amidst the chaos. The battlefield becomes a stage for a grim ballet, where the Shadows weave between foes, leaving lifeless forms in their wake.
The soldiers, already shaken by Zinov's apparent defeat, are ill-prepared for this sudden onslaught. Panic surges through their ranks as comrades fall, their formation collapsing into disarray. Some attempt to regroup, barking orders over the clamor, while others, gripped by fear, turn to flee. The Shadows give no quarter, pressing their advantage with ruthless efficiency.
Amidst the turmoil, the ground is slick with blood, the air thick with the cries of the wounded and dying. The once-organized battalion is reduced to scattered pockets of resistance, each swiftly extinguished by the relentless assassins. The massacre unfolds with brutal finality, a testament to the devastating impact of a leader's fall on the morale and effectiveness of his troops.
