Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Bork's eyes widened in disbelief, and then narrowed in pure fury. "How dare you!" he bellowed, his voice shaking with anger. He thrust his right fist toward her with all his might, as if he could crush her spirit with brute force alone.

But Lucy was ready. She met his attack head-on, her own fist shooting forward with precision. The moment their fists collided, Lucy's exclusive skill, Eruption, triggered. The impact was immediate and catastrophic—Bork's right hand detonated in a violent explosion, sending chunks of corrupted flesh flying in all directions.

For a split second, Bork's face twisted in shock and pain, but then it quickly contorted into a sneer. He chuckled darkly, the sound grating and hollow. "Do you think that's enough to stop me?" he growled, his voice thick with contempt. "Don't think for a moment that this is all I can do!"

As he spoke, the corpses scattered around them began to stir, drawn toward him as if compelled by some dark force. The grotesque remains of the dead began to reassemble his obliterated hand, the decaying flesh knitting itself together in a horrific display of necromancy. In mere moments, Bork's hand was whole again, as if nothing had happened.

"Even if you explode all my limbs," Bork taunted, his tone dripping with malice, "I can regenerate them as many times as I need to. You're just prolonging your inevitable death!"

Lucy's eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening with cold determination. She spoke with a quiet, steely resolve that cut through Bork's bravado. "Then I will destroy them all," she declared, her voice filled with an unwavering conviction that made Bork's sneer falter for the briefest of moments.

What ensued was a brutal and relentless cycle of destruction and regeneration. Lucy, with every ounce of her rage and power, would land devastating punches that caused Bork's limbs to explode in violent eruptions of flesh and bone.

But no matter how many times she shattered his body, Bork would sneer through the pain and draw upon the surrounding corpses to regenerate, piecing himself back together in a grotesque parody of life.

The pattern repeated again and again, neither side willing to give an inch. Lucy's blows were merciless, each one a testament to her unyielding determination to end Bork's twisted existence.

And Bork, though battered and broken time and again, seemed to revel in his ability to regenerate, his mocking laughter echoing through the chamber.

"You can keep doing this all day!" Bork jeered, his voice dripping with a mixture of arrogance and desperation as his body reformed once more. "But it won't make a difference! I'll keep coming back, no matter how many times you destroy me!"

Lucy's face remained a mask of steely resolve, her eyes burning with cold fury. She said nothing, letting her fists do the talking as she landed another powerful punch, shattering Bork's right hand into pieces. But this time, something was different. The expected regeneration didn't come. Bork's hand didn't reform.

A flicker of confusion crossed Bork's face, quickly giving way to fear as he realized something was horribly wrong. He looked down at the mangled stump where his hand had been, his voice trembling with disbelief. "How... how can this be? Why isn't it regenerating?"

Zeus, who had been watching the battle from the sidelines with a knowing smirk, finally decided to intervene. His tone was laced with amusement as he called out, "Why don't you look around, Bork?"

Bork's eyes darted frantically around the battlefield, and as he took in the sight, horror dawned on him. The corpses—his lifeline, his source of regeneration—were gone.

They had been obliterated, reduced to ash and ruin by Lucy's relentless onslaught. There was nothing left for him to draw upon.

"But... but how?" Bork stammered, his voice cracking as the reality of his situation set in. Desperation filled his gaze, and his mind raced to comprehend the impossible. "Just how much mana do you have? How can you keep using that skill without running out?"

Lucy's expression remained calm and unwavering, her voice cold and final. "I don't know, but it's time for you to die."

Zeus's smirk widened as he watched the grim realization dawn on Bork's face. The mage's once-overwhelming confidence had crumbled, replaced by stark terror.

The arrogance that had fueled his taunts and bravado was gone, leaving behind only the raw fear of a man who had gravely underestimated his opponent.

Zeus, relishing every moment of Bork's despair, thought to himself, "What Bork doesn't know is that Lucy's mana is pure volcanic mana."

His smirk deepened as he continued in his thoughts, "And where are we now?" His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as the answer came to him. "We're in a fucking volcano—the place with the richest source of volcanic mana. Lucy can draw on that power, using the surrounding mana to fuel her skill over and over again, as much as she wants."

Lucy stepped closer to Bork, her movements slow and deliberate, her gaze locked onto him like a predator closing in on its prey. The fear in Bork's eyes was palpable, and he took a shaky step back, his body trembling as he realized there was no escape.

"It's over," Lucy said, her voice cold and filled with finality. "Now, it's time for you to die."

Bork's bravado, his sneering confidence, had completely shattered. All that was left was raw, unfiltered terror. "No!" he screamed, his voice cracking as he stumbled back, desperation seeping into every word. "No! This can't be happening!"

But there was no mercy in Lucy's eyes, no hesitation in her step. She had made her decision, and Bork's fate was sealed.