'The longer this goes on… the worse it becomes.'
Ozeroth grimaced, blocking a vicious strike aimed to cleave him clean in two.
With the Armor of Ruin activated, every strike he landed only made the King stronger.
Each attack was devoured, converted into raw power that fueled the King's next blow, making him fiercer, faster, and more relentless with every passing second.
But just like when they'd battled in the Spirit World… Ozeroth had found a weakness.
'I have to go for the head.'
It was the only part of the King's body left uncovered by the Armor of Ruin. And Ozeroth had every intention of exploiting that.
As their weapons were about to collide again, Ozeroth's form suddenly dispersed, bursting into smoke mid-swing.
The Spirit King's eyes sharpened.
"This again?"
He spun fast, but then his gaze locked onto a sight that made his eyes narrow dangerously.
All around him… were Ozeroths.
Each one identical. Same form. Same aura.
