Chapter 603 First Ring of Hell: Lust (17)
The sinister energy emanating from the doors felt like a restrained tempest, a force eager to be set free. It whispered promises of darkness and hinted at the unimaginable horrors that awaited on the other side. Orion, however, remained undeterred, his celestial-abyssal guise acting as a shield against the oppressive aura, allowing him to approach the doors with a sense of determination rather than fear.
The colossal metal doors, with their cryptic engravings and pulsating energy, became a threshold to the unknown. Whatever lay beyond this formidable barrier seemed poised to challenge the very fabric of reality, and the symbols etched into the surface hinted at a power both ancient and malevolent, ready to be unleashed upon the world.
Guarding this entrance were two colossal figures, each standing at an imposing eight meters tall. Unlike the other demons in the ring of hell, these guards were encased in complete heavy armor, leaving no gap for even the smallest needle to thread through. The armor gleamed with a dark, foreboding luster, the material seemingly impervious to any form of attack. The guards exuded an imposing presence that transcended the usual demonic ferocity, their stature alone enough to give pause to any who dared approach.
The heavy armor enveloping the guards was a formidable sight to behold. It consisted of interlocking plates, intricately designed to provide maximum protection while allowing for minimal vulnerability. Every inch of their massive frames was encased in this darkened armor, creating an almost otherworldly silhouette that contrasted sharply with the demonic inhabitants of the palace.
Despite the guards' formidable appearance and the ominous aura emanating from the metal doors, Orion remained unfazed. His celestial-abyssal guise seemed to absorb the malevolent energies that clung to the basement, shielding him from the oppressive atmosphere. The guards' imposing presence, designed to strike fear into the hearts of lesser beings, failed to elicit even a hint of hesitation from Orion as he prepared to confront whatever lay beyond those colossal doors.
Orion swiveled his head, making sure that demoness wasn't here, and even focused on his senses to double-check before walking up to the twin doors. He marveled at the size before placing a single hand on it, only to feel a shiver shoot down his spine.
The two guards, standing sentinel on either side of the colossal doors, wasted no time in reacting to Orion's approach. With a synchronized precision that bespoke years of training, they swung their massive greatswords towards him in a coordinated assault. The blades, sharp enough to cleave through solid stone, sliced through the air with a menacing whistle.
Orion, however, moved with an agility that belied his mortal frame. He leaned back, the deadly arcs of the greatswords passing just above his head, the rush of displaced air tickling his hair. The precision of his evasion showcased a mastery over his own body, a dance with danger that left him unscathed.
Taking advantage of the guards' momentary vulnerability, Orion swiftly closed the distance between them. His movements were a fluid amalgamation of grace and purpose, a choreography that seemed to defy the laws of physics. With a series of nimble steps, he maneuvered around the towering guards, his eyes sharp and observant.
As Orion engaged in the intricate dance of combat, he skillfully weaved between the guards' strikes. Their greatswords, swung with formidable force, clashed against each other with ground-shaking reverberations. Orion's lithe form seemed to blur as he dodged, ducked, and parried, all while maintaining an almost balletic poise.
The greatswords cut through the air, creating arcs of deadly energy that Orion skillfully avoided. He flowed around the guards like a wisp of smoke, his movements a testament to both his agility and tactical acumen. Each step, each twist, was a calculated maneuver, a dance of evasion that left the guards swinging at empty air.
Orion's counterattacks were a symphony of precision. A flicker of his wrist sent his Sangria Spear slicing through the air, creating a barrier that deflected the guards' strikes. The clash of steel on steel resonated in the dimly lit basement, the rhythmic percussion of a battle unfolding.
The guards, encased in their imposing armor, struggled to match Orion's speed and finesse. The young warrior darted between them, exploiting the gaps in their defenses with calculated strikes. His Astral Angellic Blade flashed with celestial radiance, each swing leaving a shimmering trail of light in its wake.
The dance of combat continued, a kinetic display of skill and strategy. Orion's movements, seemingly effortless, gradually forced the guards to the defensive. The basement, once still and oppressive, now echoed with the cadence of a battle that transcended the physical realm.
As the battle unfolded, the guards, clad in their impenetrable armor, became increasingly frustrated. Orion's movements were a blur of precision, an intricate dance that defied their attempts to land a solid blow. The clangor of steel meeting steel reverberated through the basement, punctuating the relentless rhythm of the fight.
Orion, in his celestial-abyssal guise, exploited the smallest openings in the guards' defenses. His Sangria Spear and Astral Angellic Blade struck with calculated ferocity, creating a dazzling display of ethereal brilliance against the backdrop of darkness. The basement, once suffused with an ominous aura, now bore witness to a celestial spectacle.
The guards, despite their imposing stature, found themselves outmatched by Orion's supernatural prowess. He sidestepped their attacks with uncanny grace, his every movement a testament to his otherworldly abilities. The confined space of the basement became a canvas for the unfolding battle, each clash of weapons an artful stroke in a masterpiece of combat.
Orion's senses heightened, allowing him to anticipate the guards' moves before they even executed them. His preternatural awareness turned the tide of the fight, as he seamlessly countered every strike with an almost preternatural foresight. The greatswords, swung with brute force, seemed to lose their efficacy against the young warrior's supernatural agility.
The guards, recognizing the futility of their conventional attacks, began to adapt. With a synchronized effort, they attempted to corner Orion, closing in on him with strategic strikes. However, the young warrior effortlessly evaded their advances, slipping through their defenses like a wraith in the shadows.
The celestial-abyssal aura that cloaked Orion granted him an ethereal advantage. His movements became unpredictable, a dance of shadows that confounded the guards. In response, he unleashed his unique skills – [Demon Splitter], [Angel Destroyer], [Heaven Splitter] – each strike infused with the potent energies that defined his celestial-abyssal nature.
The basement became a battleground of cosmic forces, the clash of celestial and abyssal energies painting a surreal tableau. Orion's weapons gleamed with an otherworldly radiance, their strikes leaving trails of ephemeral light. The guards, now pushed to their limits, struggled to keep pace with the dance of a warrior who seemed attuned to the very fabric of the universe.
Orion, sensing an opportunity, intensified his assault. His Sangria Spear and Astral Angellic Blade became a whirling tempest of celestial and abyssal power, striking with a force that transcended the physical realm. The guards, their imposing armor battered and scarred, faltered under the onslaught.
As the battle reached its zenith, the basement pulsated with an otherworldly energy. Orion, with a final flourish, executed a dazzling combination of strikes. The guards, overwhelmed by the celestial-abyssal onslaught, staggered and fell to their knees. The basement, once steeped in the foreboding atmosphere of the guards' imposing presence, now bore witness to the triumph of a celestial-abyssal force.
Orion, his breath steady and his eyes ablaze with determination, stood amidst the fallen guards. The basement, silent save for the lingering echoes of the battle, awaited the next revelation in the unfolding saga within the first circle of hell, the realm of lust.
As Orion pushed through the colossal twin doors, a palpable resistance met his celestial-abyssal form. The engraved symbols on the doors seemed to react to his touch, pulsating with a faint, ominous glow. The transition was gradual, as if the very essence of the door recognized the celestial-abyssal nature of the being attempting to breach its threshold.
A surge of otherworldly energy coursed through Orion as he pressed forward, a gust of raw power that carried an unsettling resonance. The ambient temperature dropped, and the air thickened with a strange, foreboding presence. It was as though the doors themselves resisted the intrusion, attempting to bar the way to whatever lay beyond.
As Orion persevered, the resistance intensified, and the engraved symbols on the doors glowed brighter. The greenish wind, like an ethereal barrier, rushed past him with an audible howl. The celestial-abyssal forces within him met the resistance head-on, creating a turbulent collision of energies that echoed in the confined space of the basement.
Despite the daunting pressure, Orion persisted, his determination unwavering. The doors, seemingly reluctant to yield, finally gave way with a resounding creak. The gust of green wind, now unleashed, roared past him, carrying with it an eerie chorus of whispers that seemed to resonate from the depths of the abyss.
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