In the face of the flaming spear, Twanakuâs eyes, now crimson from the Devil Transformation, reflected dancing and burning crimson flames.
He remained unfazed. Instead, he conjured an aberrationâa broadsword made of crimson magma and pale-blue flames.
Swiftly turning, Twanaku exposed his back to the flaming spear. With the magma broadsword in hand, he slashed at the foe who had seemingly teleported behind him, launching an attack.
The broadsword, adorned with crimson magma and pale-blue flames, sliced through the air but missed Lumian. It left only an exaggerated mark on the wall behind, a testament to its destructive force.
Had it not been for the Bottle of Fictionâs protection, the bathroom wall would have been split in half. Even so, the bottle visibly trembled, bearing some damage.
The nearly white flaming spear also struck Twanakuâs back, piercing a little before being halted by the elastic dark skin and sturdy flesh. It failed to penetrate the Devilâs body, leaving only blackened traces from the resulting inferno.
Devils, armored in thick and tough natural protection, were resistant to flames, poison, and curses to a certain extent. Twanaku, in his Zombie state, possessed a steel-like body that could withstand bullets and cannonballs. Lumianâs flaming spear and fireball attacks, as well as the Fire Ravensâ onslaught, posed little threat. Standing still, Twanaku could endure repeated attacks without suffering severe injuries.
Additionally, his ability to transform into a Wraith allowed him to evade explosions effortlessly.
âHisokaâ Twanaku believed that, without the support of the Tarot Club, the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, and powerful demigods, he could have tortured Lumian to death. Even with teleportation, spells rendering him temporarily unconscious, and mystical items, most of Lumianâs attacks were ineffective against Wraiths and Desire Apostle Beyonders. The Psychic Shock and Desire Detonation further restrained him, leaving him vulnerable to the assaults of Wraiths and undead creatures.
Having missed his strike, Twanaku noticed Lumianâs figure reappear in midair.
As anticipated, Lumian had chosen to teleport behind and launch an attack. However, there was a notable change compared to previous encounters.
Hovering near the ceiling and the vent, Lumian opened his mouth and emitted a harrumph.
The moment a pale-yellow light shot out, Hisoka Twanakuâs figure faded and vanished.
In Lumianâs pupils, a devilish figure materializedâdark skin, long goat horns, bat wings on its back, and no longer wielding the Sword of Lava.
Swiftly, Twanaku transformed into a Wraith, leaping into Lumianâs eyes, deftly dodging the Spell of Harrumphâs attack.
Devil Transformation didnât impede his Wraith abilities!
Lumianâs face paled, a dark-green hue tinting his features. His hands involuntarily rose, reaching for his neck, and his body plummeted to the ground.
Prepared for such a situation, Lumian didnât resist. While he could still struggle, he didnât halt his hands or resist the Wraithâs control. Instead, he sank his consciousness into his right hand.
The frenzied, bloody aura of superiority dissipated slightly, causing Twanaku to instinctively tremble.
He subconsciously detached from Lumianâs body and leaped onto the sink.
Lumian activated the black mark on his right shoulder, vanishing before crashing to the ground.
This time, he appeared behind the motionless silver-white full-body armor.
Behind!
The Pride Armor spun around abruptly, raising the broadsword of light and slashing at Lumian in the not-too-small bathroom. Lumian employed Spirit World Traversal once more, vanishing from the silver armorâs path.
Within the mirror, âHisokaâ Twanaku was somewhat bewildered.
Why did Lumian Lee provoke his Sealed Artifact and engage in combat with it?
Am I not his enemy target?
The negative effects of a Sealed Artifact?
Though he didnât understand what was going on, Twanaku sensed danger instinctively.
His Danger Premonition, along with a possible insight from Emperor RoselleââIf something shows signs of abnormality, there must be an abnormal factor hidden. Such factors often signify danger.â
Without hesitation, Twanaku left the sink and leaped to the bathroom door in his colossal Devil form.
Conjuring a dozen or so light-blue Sulfur Fireballs, he directed them at the wooden door in unison.
Twanaku, who had shaken the Bottle of Fiction with his sword, knew that the current seal could be broken by brute force. There was no need to find the true exit or kill the enemy who had constructed the seal.
For this reason, he chose to forgo teaming up with the full-body armor to assail Lumian.
He reckoned that any further delay, even if Lumian Lee were to fall on the spot, would lead to him being surrounded, facing a lethal blow with no chance of escaping alive.
In such a scenario, killing Lumian Lee would render the effort meaningless!
Certainly, Twanaku wasnât about to let Lumian off easily. Following the Sulfur Fireball assault, he clenched his fists and spoke a word in Devil language filled with depravity and filth.
âSlow!â
This was a manifestation of the Language of Foulness, capable of stiffening and even halting the movements of targets within a seven- to eight-meter radius for approximately two seconds.
Considering the bathroomâs size, this radius covered the entire area.
Lumianâs form reappeared.
Once more, he teleported behind the Pride Armor, conjuring a crimson fireball almost white in his hand.
Influenced by the Language of Foulness, both Lumian and the Pride Armor moved sluggishly. One âslowlyâ launched a fireball, while the other struggled to turn around, as if its joints had rusted.
Rumble!
The Sulfur Fireballs erupted against the bathroom door.
A translucent, illusory membrane materialized on the bathroomâs side. Like glass, it shattered inch by inch, leaving crisscrossing marks that teetered on the brink of collapse.
The wooden door appeared charred and pieced together, reminiscent of a childâs broken toy hastily glued back together.
Observing this, âHisokaâ Twanaku grasped that another strike could completely shatter the seal.
This time, he gathered seven to eight light-blue Sulfur Fireballs.
On the opposite end, Lumianâs fireball finally collided with the Pride Armorâs back, assisted by the explosive waves.
Amidst the rumbling and clanging, the silver armor stiffened.
Lumian activated the black mark on his right shoulder once more and teleported away from his current location.
Almost simultaneously, the Pride Armor overcame the effects of Slow with abnormal swiftness, swiftly turning around.
However, it still couldnât lock onto its target.
Twanaku felt a surge of amusement bubbling within him but maintained an unusual vigilance. His only wish was that the relentless bombardment would shatter the seal completely, granting him an avenue for escape.
In the next moment, the Sulfur Fireballs collided with the wooden door at the bathroom entrance. Twanaku witnessed the silver-white full-body armor squat down, driving the broadsword of light into the ground.
Whâ Twanakuâs pupils dilated as he instinctively readied himself to transform into a Wraith.
Yet, he held back, exercising restraint. Aware of the potential consequences within the Warrior pathway, he understood the risk of subjecting himself to even greater harm.
Rumble!
Simultaneously with the explosion of the Sulfur Fireballs, the Sword of Dawn, embedded in the crevice in the stone tiles by the Pride Armor, disintegrated into fragments of light. Densely packed, they formed a flickering, violent, and sharp hurricane that swept in all directions, filled with the intent to annihilate everything.
Hurricane of Light!
Since it couldnât lock onto the backstabber, it opted for a wide-ranging assault!
The sharp and terrifying storm of light enveloped Twanaku and Kolobo on the ground. Lumian materialized in front of the latter, crouched down, shielding vital points. He faced the formidable hurricane head-on.
The washroom bore the brunt of the assault. The urinal was wrecked, and the cubicles silently collapsed, shedding a layer of bricks.
As a depraved creature, Twanaku had nowhere to hide. All he could do was endure the damage, his eyes flickering with a sharp light.
In the radiant bladesâ storm, Lumianâs figure cracked inch by inch, shattering into numerous mirror fragments.
Mirror Substitution!
With his obstruction, Kolobo avoided fatal injuries but couldnât escape multiple bleeding wounds.
âŚ
In Camusâs office, within the beige four-story building housing the patrol team.
Crouched behind a table, Camusâs face turned pale, tinged with a dark-green hue. It was as if a grayish-white clown laughed exaggeratedly in his eyes.
Camus strained to ignite bolts of lightning in his eyes, piercing Sowâs mind. His betraying teammate grimaced in pain, causing his broadsword to lose strength and direction, crashing into the desk and failing to hit Camus.
In that critical moment, Camus drew a silver revolver from his right hand, aiming it not at Sow but at himself.
Across the street, in a room facing Camusâs office,
Jenna, holding a telescope, huddled by the curtain, closely monitored Camusâs condition.
Seeing the other party under attack and struggling, she swiftly grabbed the loudspeaker she had prepared and brought it to her mouth.
âCamus has been attacked!
âCamus has been attacked by the Rose School of Thought!
âCamus is being attacked in his office!â
The loudspeakerâs sound reverberated through every room of the patrol team.