BXBX NOVEL Chapter 381 Comedic Display
Those MISS damage announcements began to punctuate the battle. They acted like a magnet for everyone\'s attention, whether they were a part of Allen\'s group or not. Laughter was stifled all around, both from his companions and the other players who were bearing witness to the assassin\'s spectacularly off-target strikes. It was as if a ripple of amusement had swept through the entire vicinity, and the shared hilarity became a common thread that bound them all.
Among the amused onlookers, the priest\'s exasperation manifested in a facepalm, his hand meeting his forehead with a mix of disbelief and frustration. Unfazed by the spectacle, he remained dedicated to his role, repeatedly casting his barrier and buff to shield the hapless assassin and attempting to lend him some semblance of accuracy. Yet, each subsequent swing of the assassin\'s blades seemed to yield no better results, evoking a bemused shake of the head from the priest.
Observing this spectacle unfold, Allen\'s understanding deepened. The priest\'s earlier invitation for him to join the group was beginning to make more sense. The scene before him, though humorous, highlighted the considerable challenges posed by the current situation. Even the group\'s ranged fighters found themselves hampered by the nature of the monsters they were battling—devious creatures designed to make life difficult for those who preferred to fight from a distance. In a twist of irony, this strategic choice aimed to maintain diversity in the player population within the map, preventing it from becoming overrun with ranged classes.
In the midst of the chaos, the wizards were still managing to dish out damage, albeit with a notable drawback—the lengthy casting time of their spells.
Fueled by a mixture of embarrassment and the desire to reclaim his wounded pride, the assassin\'s expression shifted from one of embarrassment to steely determination. His eyes gleamed with an intense resolve, a resolve that declared his intention to salvage his dignity from the wreckage of his previous display. In the face of the ridicule and mirth, he was determined to demonstrate his true capabilities.
With a razor-sharp edge to his voice, he muttered the incantation of his most formidable skill, "Rapid Attack..." The words hung in the air like a challenge, a declaration that he was about to showcase the full extent of his prowess.
Like a well-choreographed dance of death, he sprung into action, his movements a symphony of speed and grace. His blades became an extension of himself, slicing through the air with the precision of a master performer. His assault was relentless, his strikes fluid and swift, a manifestation of his unwavering dedication to proving his worth.
However, irony had other plans for this dramatic display. In a cruel twist, none of his calculated blows found their mark. Instead of delivering the triumphant finale he had envisioned, his attacks seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving behind a trail of increasingly larger "MISS" notifications. The letters seemed to mock his efforts, growing in size as they danced before the eyes of both his allies and the other players who had been drawn into this spectacle.
For a moment, the assassin\'s demeanor shifted from determined to bewildered, his prideful façade momentarily faltering in the face of undeniable irony. He stood there, blades still poised mid-strike, surrounded by the stark evidence of his skills failing him in the most spectacular fashion. The battlefield had transformed into a stage of comedy, with him as the unwitting lead actor in a farcical performance.
Allen and his group found themselves in a shared struggle to stifle their laughter. Their eyes met in a fleeting exchange, a silent pact to maintain their composure even as the scene before them unfolded like a comedy skit.
\'Don\'t laugh…\' Allen\'s eyes communicated the message, though his own battle against the bubbling laughter was evident in his strained expression. The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to betray his self-control.
\'How?\' Bella\'s gaze echoed the same sentiment, a desperate plea etched in her eyes as her hand instinctively covered her mouth. The effort to hold in her amusement contorted her features into a mix of astonishment and mirth.
Shea, on the other hand, couldn\'t help but shake her head incredulously, her disbelief and amusement mingling into an internal commentary that seemed to scream, \'I can\'t believe this is happening.\'
Alice\'s thoughts, too, mirrored the incredulity shared by the others. \'How can his accuracy be this pathetic?\' she wondered, struggling to fathom the assassin\'s plight. Her eyes danced with a mix of bemusement and bewilderment.
The mockery that echoed around the battlefield grated on the assassin\'s nerves, stoking the fires of annoyance that blazed within him. His determination to redeem his honor mingled with his growing unhappiness, a potent mix that fueled his next move. With a resolute stride, he advanced toward the altar, the ominous presence of the Killerflies trailing behind him like vengeful shadows.
"Gon, seriously, what are you doing?!" The priest\'s warning reverberated through the air, a clear indication that he comprehended the assassin\'s reckless intentions. But the assassin remained undeterred by the priest\'s concern, his gaze fixed on a singular goal.
As the assassin closed in on the altar, a mischievous spark lit up his eyes. With swift precision, he activated his Hiding skill, causing him to vanish from view amidst the throng of ranged players and healers who had gathered there.
Laughter abruptly transformed into a chorus of panic as the two remaining Killerflies, deprived of their previous target, began to circle in search of fresh prey. Though their HP points had been diminished, the monstrous insects still possessed the power to sow chaos and disruption.
A cacophony of shouts and spell incantations filled the air as wizards and magic scholars desperately attempted to cast their spells amid the onslaught of the relentless monsters. Their efforts were hindered by the monsters\' ceaseless assault, forcing them to contend with the dual challenges of focus and evasion.
At the same time, the hunters found their usual precision and accuracy hampered by the erratic dance of dodging. Arrows missed their marks as the hunters prioritized avoiding the monsters\' strikes over maintaining their own offensive.