Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 334: LAST MAN STANDING

The maggots slithered forward with grotesque determination, their pale, writhing bodies glistening under the dim, ethereal light of Azazel's manifested world.

Their mouths gaped wide, revealing rows of tiny, jagged teeth as they lunged toward Greg, driven by an unnatural hunger.

Within this twisted realm conjured by Azazel's will, Greg remained unflinching.

No trace of fear crossed his sharp features; his eyes burned with steady resolve. He knew the limits of this domain all too well.

As long as Azazel hadn't ascended to the absolute rank, nothing here could truly harm him.

The air hummed with dark energy, thick and oppressive, but Greg pushed it aside like a fleeting shadow.

He paid no mind to the maggots swarming around Azazel, their squelching movements echoing faintly in the void.

Instead, Greg pressed his assault, his claws slashing through the air with precise, unrelenting fury.

The creatures gathered closer to Greg now, their slimy forms attempting to latch onto him, but he ignored their feeble bites.

The stench of decay filled his nostrils, a reminder of the demon's corrupted essence, yet it didn't slow him.

Azazel, sensing the futility of his manifested will, twisted his face in frustration.

His demonic

eyes narrowed as he realized evasion was his only recourse.

He bolted away from Greg, his massive form cutting through the hazy landscape like a fleeing storm.

All of this was to buy precious time, the seconds ticking away in the heavy silence of his world.

The ground beneath him pulsed with envious green veins, mirroring his growing desperation.

But Greg refused to let him escape. Unfurling his broad, leathery wings, he surged forward, the rush of wind whipping against his scales.

He channeled a burst of buff energy, accelerating his flight until the air blurred around him.

In a raw contest of speed, however, Azazel outmatched him.

The demon lord's movements were a blur, his envy-fueled agility turning the chase into a frustrating game of shadows.

Running low on options, Greg gripped Heaven Defier tightly, its blade humming with latent power.

He hurled it toward Azazel, the weapon spinning through the air like a streak of defiant light, aimed to sever the demon's wings.

His hope manifested into reality, thanks to his unerring 100% attack certainty.

The blade struck true, slicing through feathers and flesh with a sickening tear.

Azazel's wings crumpled, blood spraying in dark arcs as he plummeted.

He crashed to the ground with a thunderous impact, the earth cracking beneath him in jagged fissures.

The demon lord staggered to his feet, his breath ragged and labored.

Above him, Greg descended like a vengeful shadow, his claws extended, glinting with lethal intent.

He raked across Azazel's face, the claws digging deep into demonic skin.

A brutal scar bloomed instantly, oozing black ichor that sizzled on the ground.

Then, summoning the essence of darkness, Greg wove tendrils of shadow around Azazel.

They coiled like living ropes, pinning the demon lord flat against the cold, unforgiving surface of his own world.

With Azazel immobilized once more, Greg unleashed his onslaught anew.

Each strike landed with calculated precision, chipping away at the demon's resilience in a relentless rhythm.

"Damn you. I envy time and how slow time moves. Wish it can move faster than this," Azazel muttered through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl echoing in the void.

He invoked the ultimate ability hidden within his manifested world.

[Envy Decree - within the manifested world, you can alter anything that you grow envious of (can only be used once per manifested will)]

It was a cunning ploy by Azazel, his mind racing amid the pain.

The air shimmered with a greenish hue as the decree took hold, twisting reality to his whim.

Since he couldn't strike Greg directly, he targeted something indirect, something that could erode his foe's edge.

Shortening time was the perfect sabotage, a subtle knife in the dark.

Greg frowned deeply, his brow furrowing as he felt the shift.

The world around him seemed to accelerate, every heartbeat pounding faster in his chest.

Azazel had tilted the scales even further in his favor.

Yet Greg chose focus over panic, redoubling his efforts.

His attacks came swifter, each one grinding down Azazel's health amid the swirling chaos.

Time raced for Greg, seconds blurring into a frantic blur, while for Azazel, it crawled like molasses.

The contrast hung heavy in the air, heightening the tension.

Through sheer grinding persistence, Greg whittled Azazel's life down to a mere tenth.

Sweat beaded on his skin, his muscles aching from the strain, but victory's scent drove him onward.

It wasn't cause for celebration, though.

Only thirty minutes remained until Azazel's cooldown for his ultimate attack expired, and that countdown was in this accelerated time, making it feel like mere moments.

"Dragon breath. Abyssal flames. Abyssal wave. Sin of wrath. Black hole!"

Greg unleashed every attack in his arsenal, his voice booming with raw power.

Mana drained from him in waves, only to refill in desperate surges, then deplete again in fiery explosions. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

He poured everything into the fray, the air crackling with elemental fury all to fell Azazel before the timer ran out.

One hit from that ultimate move, and Greg knew he'd be erased in an instant.

Azazel's life dipped to 9%. The demon's form trembled, wounds festering with dark energy.

Greg pushed harder, driving it to 8%. The ground shook with each impact, shadows dancing wildly.

But time was slipping away, the acceleration making every second a torment. Greg's breaths came in heavy gasps.

7%. Profanity spilled from Greg's lips, a torrent of curses under his breath.

His mental fortitude was a steel wall, the only thing keeping him from crumbling under the pressure.

6%. Now even Azazel's eyes widened with a flicker of worry, his envious glare faltering as he realized Greg might actually end him.

5%. The air grew thicker, charged with impending doom.

4%. Greg's claws blurred in motion, each strike echoing like thunder.

3%. Azazel's roars turned to desperate snarls.

2%, with barely a minute left. The world narrowed to this final push.

1%. Greg was on the brink of triumph, his heart pounding with fierce anticipation.

One final blow was all it would take to defeat Azazel.

Greg channeled his energy into Heaven Defier, the blade glowing with ethereal light.

He released the attack, stabbing forward with unyielding force.

The weapon pierced Azazel's defenses, the impact reverberating through the realm.

It was a grueling battle, every moment etched in sweat and blood, but Greg was seizing the win.

Satisfaction crept into his expression, hidden behind a mask of determination, he had triumphed in this brutal war of attrition.

But Azazel refused to yield. Cornered and desperate, he clawed for survival, his eyes blazing with defiance.

He sacrificed a fragment of his soul, defying the supreme will that bound him.

Pain ripped through him, a searing agony that twisted his features.

Casting his glare of envy upon the maggots in his world, he siphoned their life force.

Their bodies withered and dissolved, transferring a sliver of HP to him.

Thanks to that desperate act, his minuscule health bar inched upward, just enough to cling to existence.

Greg's attack landed with full force, dragging that stolen HP back down to the brink.

The demon's form shuddered violently.

Azazel's face contorted in rage, his fangs bared in a feral grimace.

Even this last-ditch effort had proven futile, the taste of defeat bitter on his tongue.

Time seemed to freeze in that instant, the world holding its breath amid the swirling darkness.

Greg stared at Azazel's dwindling HP bar, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as it bottomed out. Relief washed over him like a cool wave.

But then, it halted. His strike fell short by the narrowest margin.

Just a sliver remained, an HP of one keeping Azazel alive.

The demon's chest rose and fell weakly, mocking Greg's near-victory.

Even a simple punch, devoid of enhanced strength, would have finished it.

Frustration boiled in Greg's veins.

Reacting with lightning speed, Greg lunged to end it once and for all. His muscles tensed, ready for the kill.

"Too late. My ultimate move is now off cooldown. I win!" Azazel declared, his voice surging with triumphant glee and haughty pride.

A wicked smile split his scarred face.

He had endured the onslaught, outlasting the clock. Victory gleamed in his eyes like a stolen jewel.

Azazel activated his ultimate move, the air igniting with overwhelming power as he claimed his hard-fought dominance.