As Vincent's breath synchronized with the pulsating rhythm of the black liquid, an extraordinary phenomenon began to unfold.
Despite believing he had gained access to all of Fenrir's memories, a new and previously unknown memory began to unravel within his mind. It was as if the very essence of the dark liquid was revealing secrets hidden deep within Fenrir's consciousness.
No, a more accurate description would be that what Vincent was experiencing at that moment was not just a memory belonging to Fenrir, but rather a memory imprinted within the very essence of the black liquid itself.
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.
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"Hey, partner," a man spoke, his black hair tousled by the wind, his golden eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and weariness as he surveyed the horizon.
The sprawling landscape was covered by the ravages of war – a grim reminder of the effect of an all battle between two opposing forces.
BOOOOM!
BOOOOM!
BOOOOM!
A series of thunderous explosions shattered the night sky, their echoes reverberating through the air and painting the dark canvas of the sky with flashes of intense light.
Magic and powers clashed relentlessly, as both sides refused to back down. The battle raged on, and with every passing moment, the number of casualties grew rapidly.
The ground trembled as shockwaves rippled through the terrain, carrying with them the ominous sound of war.
He watched as the conflict unfolded before him, witnessing the harrowing scenes of death and the futile shedding of blood, all in the name of race and supremacy. He could not helped but wonder if all of this death was worth it?
"Do you think we can stop this war?" he asked .
However, instead of a spoken response, he received a subtle vibration through his black gloves. Yet, it carried the unspoken assurance that his partner was with him .
This man was none other than Fenrir, equip on his hand was his trusted divine armament – "Shadowmire". Unlike conventional divine armaments, Shadowmire carried a unique history and power.
Forged and tempered with the almost impossible to obtain blood of Eden, it held a rarity beyond comparison.
The difficulty of acquiring the blood of Eden was a challenge in itself, and he considered himself fortunate to have procured not just one, but two precious drops of it. He had consumed the first drop, giving the second for his inseparable weapon – Shadowmire.
Though it was merely two drops, the effect proved to be heaven defying .
Those two drops were sufficient to catapult his power beyond the limits of Rank SSS, propelling him into a realm of power previously unimaginable.
This transformation also elevated Shadowmire to the status of a Legendary Divine Armament.
The term "Legendary Divine Armament" had naturally come to him after witnessing Shadowmire's awe-inspiring metamorphosis. The power of his divine armament's evolution was not a mere exaggeration but a rightful acknowledgment of its extraordinary nature.
With its immense potential, Shadowmire's power now even surpassed his own abilities. Unlike him, limited by his werewolf form, the divine armament knew no such constraints. Fueled by the blood of Eden, it had become a weapon of mass destruction.
There was no doubt that this weapon would continue to grow in strength, a fact that brought Fenrir a sense of pride. The bond between him and his divine armament held a special significance, akin to a fatherly connection, as he had been its creator from the very beginning.
"Let's go, Shadowmire!" The command burst forth like thunder as Fenrir's transformation began. Running amidst the turmoil of the battlefield, his body underwent a breathtaking evolution. As his figure morphed into that of a ferocious werewolf, Shadowmire responded in kind.
With a surge of dark power, Shadowmire seamlessly merged with his body, giving birth to an obsidian armor that unfurled around him like a cloak of night. This transformation was nothing short of breathtaking, a harmonious dance of darkness and form that played out in a mesmerizing sequence.
The armor exuded an aura of darkness and ferocity. Its surface was adorned with jagged, spiky protrusions that seemed to mirror the very shadows themselves. These wicked spikes gave the armor an imposing and fearsome appearance, like a sharp shadow personified.
The armor enveloped his body, shrouding him in an impenetrable darkness that accentuated his every movement. His claws, now covered in this formidable armor, gleamed with a malevolent gleam, each claw a deadly weapon infused with the very essence of Shadowmire's dark nature.
Only the strategic joints of the armor remained visible, allowing him the agility and flexibility he needed for combat.
His head on the other hand was obscured by a helm that seamlessly blended with the armor, forming a fearsome mask that concealed his features, leaving only his eyes to burn like twin golden flames in the depths of the helm's darkness.
In this transformation, Fenrir was reborn as a living embodiment of war, a creature that straddled the line between savage might and divine power.
Every step he took resonated with an aura that seemed to command the whole battlefield, while his presence bore the weight of an impending destruction.
As the battlefield quaked beneath him, his adversaries could only gaze upon his nightmarish figure with dread.
This transmutation was more than mere spectacle; it was a living embodiment of chaos.
"GRRRRRR!" His roar resonated across the battlefield like a thunderclap, sending waves of fear through his adversaries and rallying his allies.
"Lord Fenrir has arrived!"
"The Moonlight Overlord lends us his strength!"
"Push forward!"
SWOOOOSH!
As he ran onto the battlefield, a surge of confidence and momentum swept through the ranks of the dark forces. His presence ignited a fervor that had been absent, breathing new life into their cause.
"GRRRRRRRR"
The darkened sky seemed to respond to his roar of dominance, clouds parting to reveal a sliver of moonlight that illuminated him like a true god.
"What should we do ?"
"Can we fight this monster ?"
The enemies who had been advancing with an air of arrogance were now struck with uncertainty.
The legends of Fenrir, the Moonlight Overlord, were not mere tales. They were facing the embodiment of those legends – a warrior whose might surpassed imagination.
Fear crept into the hearts of his adversaries, their bravado dwindling as they realized the daunting challenge that stood against them.
The soldiers on his side, though battered and wearied, found renewed vigor in the arrival of their legendary leader.
His reputation as the Moonlight Overlord had spread far and wide, and his name had become synonymous with victory against impossible odds. His ferocious roar had not only shaken the ground but also kindled a fire within their hearts.
But as formidable as Fenrir had become, the tide of battle could not be turned by a single individual alone. The forces at play were vast, and the challenges was not over yet.
As the enemy forces unleashed their devastating trump cards to counter him, the battlefield became a maelstrom of destruction once again.
BOOOOM!
BOOOOM!
BOOOOM!
Powerful attacks capable of obliterating thousands in an instant tore through the air, threatening to tip the balance of the battle.
Fenrir's eyes narrowed as he assessed the dangerous situation, realizing that the time had come to unveil his latest skill.
"Shadowmire, bind them!" his command reverberated with absolute authority.
In response, the obsidian armor that enshrouded him began to liquify, transforming into a liquid dark matter that surged forth like an inky tide. It swiftly encapsulated everything in its path, ensnaring everyone who dare to challenge him.
"Stop that thing !"
The opposing forces fought back, attempting to counter the encroaching tendrils of dark liquid with their own powerful attacks.
However, they quickly discovered that Fenrir's new skill was more than they could handle. The tendrils possessed an annoying ability to absorb and redirect a significant portion of the incoming assaults, rendering their onslaught largely ineffective.
SWOOOOSH!
SWOOOOSH!
SWOOOOSH!
The black tendrils of Shadowmire continue to wove a intricate web, wrapping around the enemy's attacks and neutralizing their power. Each strike absorbed only served to strengthen the all-encompassing darkness that now dominated the battlefield.
Fenrir stood at the epicenter of this swirling vortex, his eyes ablaze with golden light.
His mastery over Shadowmire had reached a new pinnacle, and with it, he wielded a power that defied even the most catastrophic power.
As the enemy's attacks dwindled and faltered, their confidence wavered, and the tides of battle began to shift once again in favor of the side of the dark.
"What in the world is that abomination?" The voice of the Human Emperor was laced with frustration and disbelief.
Their strongest forces had been dispatched with the support of powerful angels, their confidence high in the anticipation of an easy victory.
But Shadowmire unexpected power had completely screw their calculations, sending confusion and panicked through their ranks.
"What steps do you suggest, my lord?" A concerned subordinate voiced his uncertainty.
"Have no fear. Our reinforcement is on the way," the Emperor's smile held a malevolent meaning.
While Shadowmire was Fenrir's ultimate weapon, their side was not without its own trump cards.
In fact, they were prepared to unleash a dozen powerful aces from their sleeves.
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"Our long-awaited target has arrived. It's time to end him!" A demon lord, watching from a distance, sneered with contempt . Their patience had finally paid off, and they saw their opportunity to strike.
"Xavier, do not allow your familial ties to cloud your judgment just because he is your sister's husband," Diablo's voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke.
"Rest assured, that won't be an issue," Xavier replied with a casual tilt of his head, his tone and demeanor exuding a confidence that left no room for doubt.
"Let's go and hunt down our prey," a tall, silver-skinned demon declared, taking the lead with an air of arrogance.
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