Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 342: FUTILE STRUGGE

Belphegor's maw yawned open impossibly wide, unhinging with a wet, grotesque crack that echoed across the battlefield.

He inhaled the incoming storm of lightning in a single, greedy gulp.

The black-violet bolts, twisted with abyssal hunger, vanished down his throat without a trace.

Only a faint crackle of residual energy escaped his lips, dissipating harmlessly into the scorched air.

Greg's eyes narrowed, cold and calculating.

He pivoted smoothly, wings flaring as he turned his full attention toward Mammon.

The Greed lord hovered at a cautious distance, wings beating lazily to maintain the gap.

He nocked another translucent arrow, drawing the string back with deliberate precision before loosing it in rapid succession.

"I can also fire arrows," Greg said, a dangerous grin spreading across his face.

The words carried a mocking edge, laced with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew the outcome.

Behind him, a dozen arrows materialized from thin air, hovering like obedient soldiers.

Drawing on his newly acquired Stomach of Gluttony, Greg infused each one with devoured attributes, lightning that crackled with void energy, earth as dense as diamond, roaring flames, crushing water, and razor-sharp metal.

The projectiles shimmered with stolen power, humming with lethal intent.

He willed them forward.

The arrows streaked toward Mammon in a deadly barrage, slicing through the air with unnatural speed.

Mammon twisted and weaved with desperate grace, golden chains rattling around his form.

He managed to dodge most, but the sheer volume forced him into awkward, frantic maneuvers, his usual arrogance cracking under the pressure.

"Mystery Box," Greg muttered under his breath, activating the hidden ability of Heaven Defier.

[You have gained the buff Echo]

[Echo: For every attack you dodge, the attack is reflected back 50% to the enemy. Every time you dodge an attack for five consecutive times, your next attack damage will double to 100%. Duration: 20 mins.]

A satisfied smile tugged at Greg's lips. The buff settled over him like a warm shadow, sharpening his edge even further.

Belphegor and Mammon exchanged a single glance, then synchronized their assault.

They attacked together now, shockwaves, earth bullets, golden arrows, and devouring maws striking in perfect harmony.

The air itself trembled under the combined fury.

Yet every strike proved useless.

Their powers slid through Greg like mist through stone.

Worse, the reflected damage from Echo slammed back into them with vicious accuracy.

Belphegor staggered as his own shockwave cracked his ribs.

Mammon hissed in pain when his stolen arrow pierced his own shoulder.

The two demon lords bled openly, their once-coordinated assault unraveling into frustrated snarls.

Greg pressed the advantage without mercy.

He darted between them like a ghost, Heaven Defier flashing in precise, punishing arcs.

Each cut chipped away at their health bars, small, relentless wounds that bled them dry bit by bit.

The battlefield reeked of their fear and spilled ichor.

"Belphegor. This won't do," Mammon growled through gritted teeth, wings beating erratically.

"We are going to lose if this continues. Even Shooting Star couldn't touch him."

"Time to give in to desires," Belphegor muttered, his voice thick with resignation.

Demonic essence surged from the surrounding carnage, swirling around Belphegor like a living storm.

His bloated stomach shrank rapidly, flattening into a lean, almost childlike torso.

His overall size diminished until he stood no taller than a young boy, yet the aura radiating from him grew heavier, more monstrous.

Two wet, salivating mouths bloomed on his palms, lips glistening with thick drool.

His wings expanded dramatically, twice their former span, each feather replaced by rows of hungry, tooth-lined maws. A third eye split open on his forehead, glowing with ravenous crimson light.

"That's not going to change any outcome," Greg informed him coldly, already closing the distance in a blur of motion.

He swung Heaven Defier in a lethal arc aimed at Belphegor's neck.

To his surprise, the blade struck true but was absorbed instantly.

The mouth on Belphegor's palm opened wide, swallowing the force of the blow whole.

The impact vanished into the void of that grotesque orifice.

Belphegor's wings snapped outward. One of the mouths on them regurgitated the exact same strike, flinging it back at Greg.

The reflected slash missed by a hair's breadth, as always.

Mammon stared at Greg with naked greed burning in his eyes.

He tried repeatedly to steal the talent that let Greg dodge every attack.

Each attempt failed miserably, the invisible barrier around Greg rejecting him completely.

At a loss, Mammon surrendered to his own desire.

Demonic energy coiled around him, though his transformation was subtler.

His eyes darkened to bottomless pits, now capable of reading the exact success rate of any forced theft.

He stared at Greg and saw every single skill listed at 0%. Useless.

"Very well," Mammon thought, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "If I can't steal from you, I'll just steal from those around you!"

"Belphegor, keep him entertained!" Mammon ordered, diving toward the battlefield below with blinding speed.

Greg frowned, a bad premonition crawling up his spine like ice. He didn't understand the sudden shift, but instinct screamed danger.

"Where do you think you're going?" Greg asked, voice cold as frozen steel. He shot after Mammon like a vengeful shadow.

He appeared in front of the Greed lord in an instant, sword raised for a killing blow.

But Belphegor materialized between them in the same heartbeat.

His grotesque wings spread wide, absorbing the full force of Greg's strike without flinching.

Greg stared in genuine surprise. "How—"

"We are one and the same being when we give in to desire," Belphegor explained calmly, his third eye blinking slowly.

With Belphegor shielding him, Mammon continued his dive uninterrupted, streaking toward the chaos on the ground.

He zeroed in on Brian.

Before the warrior could react, Mammon's clawed hand clamped around his throat like a vice.

Using the Hand of Greed, he tried to rip away Brian's talent.

Something deep within Brian, something incomprehensible, slammed the attempt shut completely.

Brian's eyes widened in shock, every instinct screaming warnings.

"Even you dare to defile me," Mammon snarled in rage.

He raised his other hand to crush Brian's windpipe.

Chris appeared in a flash of teleportation, snatching Brian away just in time.

"Tch. These lots are annoying," Mammon cursed, spinning mid-air.

His gaze swept the battlefield and locked onto Cain next.

From above, Greg watched the entire sequence unfold. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Cold fury ignited in his chest, dulled by his bloodline, yet sharp enough to cut.

"Sigh. Guess I will have to teach you all a lesson," Greg said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

He turned his full, murderous intent upon Belphegor.

The transformed demon lord felt a visceral chill race down his spine. For the first time since the battle began, the thought of fleeing actually crossed his mind.