Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

The battlefield lay in ruins, marked by devastation and broken bodies. Vorn was sprawled on the ground, bloodied and battered. His Nether Puppets, once towering threats, were now nothing but shattered remnants scattered around him.

The dark nether energy that once surged through them had all but faded, leaving their lifeless forms crumpled like discarded dolls. Vorn gasped for breath, each inhale a struggle as he tried to push himself up, his body barely responding after the full force of Aric's Titan's Slam.

On another battlefield, Mirra wasn't faring any better. The vicious winds from Sylph's Tempest's Wrath had torn her and her puppets apart. The fragments of what had been her fearsome Nether Puppets were scattered across the ground like debris from a storm.

Mirra lay there, her body bruised and cut, her energy nearly drained. Her chest rose and fell weakly, her eyes half-lidded as she stared blankly at the sky above, unable to move.

Not far from them, Feris and Velkar were in equally dire straits. Darius's Anvil of Destruction had left them broken, their bodies singed and bleeding. The molten heat from Darius's attack still lingered in the air, causing the ground beneath them to smolder.

The two elders, their nether-infused bodies barely holding together, gritted their teeth as they tried to push through the immense pain that wracked their forms.

Aric, Sylph, and Darius stood tall in their respective battlefields, victorious. The tension in the air was thick, but there was a smugness in their expressions. They exchanged knowing glances, their confidence radiating off them in waves.

Aric stepped forward, his gaze dropping down to Vorn's broken form. He sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Is this it? Is this all you've got?" He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "All that talk, all that power from your precious Nether Puppet Manual—and now, look at you. Lying in the dirt like a beaten dog."
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Vorn coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but he said nothing. His body trembled with effort as he tried, and failed, to lift himself off the ground.

Sylph, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, flicked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her gaze swept over the battlefield, pausing briefly on the wreckage that had once been Mirra's pride and joy.

She laughed lightly, the sound almost musical, though filled with mockery. "Really, I was expecting so much more," she said, her tone sharp and condescending. "Turns out, you're nothing but weaklings, hiding behind your fancy puppets. All that fuss… for this?"

She gestured toward Mirra's broken form with an exaggerated wave of her hand, shaking her head in disappointment.

Darius, his hammer still glowing with the residual heat of his Ember Infusion, smirked as his eyes locked onto Velkar and Feris, who were struggling to stand. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of arrogance in it.

"And to think you thought you could win with those pitiful tricks." He chuckled darkly, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for more. "You call yourselves elders? With those puppets and your so-called 'newfound power'? You're not even close to being on our level."

He let the words hang in the air, the disdain clear on his face as Velkar and Feris barely managed to keep their feet under them.

For a brief moment, the three Celestial elders stood there, basking in their apparent victory. The scene looked final—their enemies beaten, their power unmatched.

But then, something unexpected happened.

A low, unsettling laugh broke the silence. Darius's brow furrowed, and he whipped his gaze toward the source. There, amidst the smoldering battlefield, Velkar, despite his grievous injuries, was laughing. The sound was harsh, grating, and filled with a dark amusement that sent a shiver through the air.

Slowly, Velkar lifted his head, his eyes glowing with a sinister, malevolent light. "You think… this is over?" he rasped, his voice cracked but dripping with cruel amusement. He spat blood to the side, straightening slightly despite the pain wracking his body. "Fools."

Before anyone could react, Feris joined in, his cold, mocking laughter slicing through the tension like a blade. "You really believed that was all we had?" His tone was sharp, each word cutting like glass. "Pathetic. You haven't seen anything yet."

Aric, Sylph, and Darius exchanged uneasy glances, the brief flicker of victory on their faces fading fast. Something was off—something very wrong.

"You truly think you've won?" Velkar sneered, his voice rising in strength, filled with dark malice. He straightened more now, standing tall despite the obvious damage to his body. His lips curled into a wicked grin. "We've only just begun to show you our real power."

Darius's grip on his hammer tightened, his once confident smirk vanishing. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, his tone sharp, though edged with uncertainty.

Velkar chuckled again, deeper this time. "Oh, you'll see soon enough." His eyes gleamed with a dangerous promise. "This... was just a warm-up."

Lying on the ground, still battered and bruised, Mirra let out a weak, humorless laugh, her lips barely parting as she whispered, "You're not ready for what comes next." Her voice was strained, but the satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable.

Meanwhile, Vorn, blood trickling from his split lip, forced himself to his feet. His movements were slow, painful, but deliberate. A twisted grin spread across his face as he wiped the blood from his chin.

"You call yourselves strong?" He chuckled, dark amusement seeping through his words. "This was just a warm-up. You haven't even scratched the surface of what's to come."

Aric's jaw tightened. "You're bluffing," he snapped, but even he could hear the doubt creeping into his voice.

Sylph narrowed her eyes, trying to read the situation. "Bluff or not, this doesn't end well for you," she said, though the sharp edge of confidence from before was dulled. "You're barely standing."

Mirra's weak chuckle turned into a soft, rasping laugh. "Barely standing?" she repeated mockingly. "You think this is our limit? Our pain? You don't know the first thing about true power."

Velkar's grin widened, his eyes burning with something dark, something dangerous. "Oh, you'll understand soon enough." His voice was laced with venom. "The real fight… starts now."

Feris, despite his injuries, managed to straighten his posture, his cold gaze fixed on the Celestial elders. "You're about to regret ever underestimating us."

The Celestial elders tensed, their earlier arrogance and confidence now crumbling beneath the weight of their enemies' words. There was something more—something lurking beneath the surface of their foes' injuries and exhaustion. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The malicious laughter of the Necrovauld and Malachor elders filled the battlefield, thick with dark promises of vengeance. The air grew heavy with anticipation, the sense that something far more dangerous was looming just beyond the edge of the horizon.

The once-broken elders of Necrovauld and the Malachor Clan now stood tall, their eyes blazing with a burning vengeance, their bodies trembling with unspent power. They had more to give. Much more.