The process of gradually taking control of the entire Black Angel was miraculous, like soone regaining their senses piece by piece after losing everything. First, there was sight, then sound, the possession of a punching arm, and then the leap of iron feet.
Blood continuously gushed from the wound on the chest; if the firepower of the armor's fire cannon were just a bit stronger, this strike might have directly destroyed the Black Angel. Burnt flesh and red-hot steel made its figure appear sowhat distorted and staggering, yet it struggled to stand, like a dying but crazed thug.
The gates were all sealed, and the lift platform rose to its highest. The sound of static buzzed in Night Owl's ears; he was well aware of what had happened.
Sure enough, it lost control, just like the fate of many First Generation Armor pilots. Even the Demon Hunter couldn't escape this curse.
Night Owl wasn't afraid; at this mont, he suddenly felt a damned sense of mission. It proved that to a certain extent, the Third Generation Armor indeed possessed reliable combat power. Though not as capable as the First Generation Armor, with external armor and weaponry, it could barely keep pace with the First Generation Armor.
Most importantly, the Third Generation Armor's stability ant that it could be mass-produced, and piloting armor would no longer be sothing only Knight Commanders could do. The combat strength of the entire Purification chanism would be greatly enhanced.
This was an honor; the mont to prove himself had arrived.
He gripped the sword blade steadily, just like before, the Sword Dancer stood firmly in place. As long as the Black Angel couldn't break through its defenses, he was confident in controlling the out-of-control Black Angel.
A strange laugh suddenly sounded, seemingly from the Black Angel, yet it also seed to echo directly in his mind. Night Owl first lost focus, then imdiately pressed the button again, injecting the remaining doses of Florun Potion to keep his consciousness clear amidst the erosion. The next mont, the Black Angel ca with a blood mist.
The constant booming echoed; the iron foot stomped forcefully on the tallic ground, so powerfully that every muscle was freely releasing strength. Without the cover of skin, the scarlet twists and pulls were clearly visible, like entwined groups of snakes.
As he raised the gripped sword blade, the unrestrained Black Angel was already before him. Its speed was far swifter than before, as if this was its true power. Just then, as the Sword Dancer couldn't yet react, the sharp Iron Feather struck heavily down.
"This is useless..."
As if cheering himself on, Night Owl murmured softly.
Previous encounters had already proven that Iron Feather was highly lethal against Demon-like flesh, but when faced with similar steel, all it could do was leave behind so mottled scratches.
If Lorenzo still had reason, he certainly wouldn't make such futile attacks. Now it could be confird that he had been completely overrun by the erosion, and even the attack had turned into bestial wild madness, devoid of any tactics.
The slow speed finally caught up, but the Black Angel showed no intention of evading. In its current state, taking a sword strike would undoubtedly spell its defeat, and Night Owl was ruthless; the best way to deal with out-of-control armor was to suppress it.
The deadly sword blade inched closer to the Black Angel. Just then, it also realized the danger and prepared to evade, but it was too late. The steam engine roared, and under imnse output, the sword blade whipped up a howling gale.
But just as it was about to hit, the speeding blade suddenly halted; this pause gave the Black Angel ti to flee. It stepped on the sword blade, and the sharp Iron Feather slashed again.
Was it a coincidence?
Even Night Owl couldn't quite believe it. In the last strike, the broken blade of the Iron Feather had cut into the gap in the armor, wedging into the chanical joint. It was this fatal point that obstructed the lifting of the sword blade.
There was no ti for Night Owl to ponder these; the new strikes fell, and the Black Angel moved swiftly like a nimble snake, rotating rapidly around the Sword Dancer, always one step ahead of the descending blades.
The relentless clanging of iron resounded in his ears; it was tal against tal warfare. Dazzling sparks flew continuously. In an instant, Night Owl couldn't grasp how many tis the Black Angel had struck, but the next mont, all sound ceased. The tardy sword blade once again cut through the air, and the narrow field of vision on the face armor lost track of the Black Angel.
Where did it go?
For the first ti, panic appeared in Night Owl's heart. Due to the speed disparity, to prevent the disadvantage from widening, Night Owl had been striving to keep the Black Angel within his sights, but now it vanished.
In the next mont, a sharp blade arc appeared; the Black Angel leaped from below, directly striking the gap between the armors, slicing into those slight vulnerable areas, and continued fracturing until it reached up to the face armor, letting in the piercing cold wind.
The sword blade swung forcefully, and the Sword Dancer tried using a wide horizontal sweep to force the Black Angel to retreat, then retreated to a corner, concealing its back in the blind spot as much as possible.
Night Owl was panting, still sowhat unresponsive until the blood flowed through his eyes, tinting his vision with red.
That strike left a deep dent on the face armor; had it been any deeper, Night Owl's injuries would be far more severe. He was incredibly vigilant; the Black Angel's strength far surpassed earlier. Though it hadn't destroyed the armor, cutting through it was enough.
It didn't continue its pursuit. As before, every ti the Black Angel executed a successful attack, it would stop, standing at a position where the Sword Dancer could see it, quietly lingering, like the arrogance and pity from the Upper Rank, although it was all injured.
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