MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 1102: The Shadow Soldiers-3

Igris positioned himself before his designated challenger. Unlike Beru, he did not launch an immediate assault. Instead, he remained suspended, his eyes alight with a piercing blue glow, fixed upon the Vampire adversary. The female Vampire, brandishing twin daggers held in a reverse grip, presented a facade of relaxed readiness, yet her stance radiated a coiled, lethal intensity, akin to a predator poised for the decisive strike.

He bore no particular eagerness for conflict, yet this did not imply an inclination to evade it when it arose; rather, he simply refrained from actively pursuing it. A profound silence descended between the two combatants as they assessed each other, their gazes locked in a silent parley of intent and strategic contemplation.

Bryan, observing from the periphery, could perceive the palpable thickening of the atmosphere, the escalating pressure causing the very celestial bodies around them to shimmer faintly, as if in apprehension of the imminent confrontation.

However, in the subsequent moment, Bryan, who had anticipated a grand spectacle, was suddenly met with the sharp clang of metal resounding directly before him. By the time his vision focused on the unfolding event, he witnessed Igris intercepting an attack that had been aimed at him.

The Vampire had employed a deceptive maneuver, feigning an engagement with Igris before instantaneously redirecting her assault toward Bryan. While such a stratagem might have proven effective against less seasoned combatants, Igris stood as a Knight of formidable experience, possessing not only overwhelming speed but also exceptional strength, excelling in both domains.

With a resounding force that warped the surrounding spatial fabric, both figures vanished from their positions, their weapons meeting in a blur of rapid exchanges, the echoes of their impacts thundering ceaselessly. Their forms dissolved into mere streaks of crimson and obsidian, flickering across the expanse as they parried each other's blows with a level of weapon mastery so refined it bordered on the extraordinary.

Igris unleashed a sword strike, and with a booming, crackling explosion, a searing bolt of blue lightning burst forth, lancing towards the Vampire. This concentrated projectile was accompanied by a deafening cacophony, reminiscent of a billion avian calls compressed into a single, instantaneous moment.

An aura of darkness enveloped her daggers as she executed an immediate outward slash, her blades confronting the approaching lightning bolt with formidable might. The instant she countered the attack, she closed the distance separating her from Igris as if the intervening space had simply ceased to exist.

True to the nature implied by her moniker, her daggers unerringly sought out vulnerabilities in her adversary's defenses. In that fleeting interval, she identified two critical points, her twin blades darting with terrifying accuracy towards Igris's eye sockets, piercing the narrow apertures of his helmet.

Yet, Igris was not caught unprepared. He executed a simple backward step, evading the assault with effortless grace, as if it posed no threat whatsoever, moving just beyond its lethal reach with practiced fluidity. The very point in space where the Vampire's daggers impacted, in the instant he evaded the strike, detonated violently, a testament to her ability to rend the fabric of space with startling ease.

Igris's form reappeared on the surface of an adjacent moon, his posture erect, his presence composed, and his demeanor as serene and disciplined as ever, the tumultuous clash of battle seemingly having no effect upon him.

"Pray forgive my lack of decorum and blatant discourtesy," he intoned, his voice a low, steady, and respectful frequency, acknowledging and honoring his opponent despite their lethal objective.

With that declaration, the longsword he had wielded dissolved seamlessly into his shadow, as if it had never been present. In the ensuing moment, his hands moved to his waist, drawing forth two daggers that had been concealed there, his actions marked by precision and deliberation.

The Vampire observed him for a brief spell, momentarily perplexed by the shift in his combat methodology, yet she voiced no inquiry. In the next instant, an additional presence manifested, another Vampire emerging from the shadow Igris cast across the lunar surface. It was the very same Vampire he had been engaged with, now appearing as a duplicate.

Igris's reflexes surged like a supernova as he pivoted instantly, as though gifted with perception transcending ordinary sight, his daggers flashing forward in an unreserved offensive, forsaking all defense in favor of a direct assault.

Having witnessed the technique merely once, he replicated it flawlessly in the subsequent moment. However, unlike his counterpart, he discerned not two but a multitude of weaknesses, unleashing dozens of strikes in less than a millisecond, each perfectly targeting a vital point with lethal accuracy.

Confronted by the impending onslaught, the Vampire's eyes widened with genuine astonishment. Yet, time offered no allowance for contemplation. Having committed to her previous maneuver, a full retreat was no longer feasible. While mutual annihilation presented an option, it was contrary to her preferred approach. Without hesitation, she initiated another technique.

Her body contorted, transforming into a rapidly spinning vortex of shadows as she sidestepped with astonishing speed. She reappeared on the moon's surface with flawless control. However, the instant her feet touched down, a dagger was already hurtling towards her throat; Igris had perfectly predicted her every move.

Her agility kicked in immediately. Her form bent backward in a motion that defied nature, her spine arching until her back was nearly parallel to the desolate lunar ground. This evasion was as graceful and swift as a feline dodging a fatal blow. A dark blade's trajectory sliced through the space where her neck had been moments before, missing by the slimmest of margins.

'He can wield both daggers and swords?' she mused, her surprise palpable. She noted that the combat style and flow Igris displayed with his daggers were entirely distinct from his sword fighting.

The first Vampire, the clone, which had paused momentarily when Igris switched weapons, suddenly surged forward. It seized the minuscule opening created as Igris adjusted his stance. That sliver of a second was all the clone needed. Its daggers lunged towards his waist with deadly precision.

But Igris simply vanished. His form dissolved into his own shadow, as if he had never occupied that space at all.

Before the clone could even register what had transpired, its head was cleanly severed from its body with a smooth, unresisted motion. The decapitation was so rapid it appeared almost to lag. A heartbeat later, its form dissolved into a wisp of darkness, ceasing to exist.

The original Vampire now stood several kilometers away from Igris, having swiftly created distance after evading his final assault. Their gazes met once more, daggers held steady in their hands, a silent understanding passing between them.

A challenge had been issued. A contest of speed. A duel of daggers. A trial of reflexes and relentless, unbroken chains of attacks.

With this unspoken pact sealed, they propelled themselves at each other like projectiles, their movements explosive and instantaneous. Their daggers ripped through the very fabric of space as if it were mere gossamer, each strike tearing at reality itself as they unleashed an uncountable barrage of attacks within the span of a single breath.

Their fighting arena became a blur of intersecting slashes and afterimages, so vivid and substantial that distinguishing the real from the illusory became an insurmountable task.