Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Zeus's smirk deepened as he prepared to unleash one of the more sinister skills he had recently acquired from the system—Thunder Mine. The skill was as lethal as it was subtle, allowing him to plant mines of pure thunder energy onto anything or anyone. With a simple command, these mines could be triggered, delivering a deadly surprise to the target.

As he prepared to activate the mines, Zeus couldn't help but admire the beauty of the skill. "Thunder Mine… it's perfect for eliminating targets without drawing attention," he muttered to himself, his voice laced with satisfaction.

He recalled the precise calibration he had applied to the mines he'd placed on Thalrik and Vortas. They weren't meant to cause a massive explosion—that would be too obvious, too crude.

Instead, these mines were designed to deliver a concentrated shock, a pulse of thunder that would burn through their organs from the inside, killing them instantly and leaving nothing but charred remains.

Zeus's eyes glinted with a mix of anticipation and cold calculation as he checked the time. "The mines should be going off right about… now," he murmured, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather.

He leaned back, a look of satisfaction spreading across his face. "It's a truly useful skill," he mused aloud, "perfect for killing undetected, and ideal for setting traps that no one will see coming."

The smirk on his face was a reflection of his confidence—he knew the plan had been executed flawlessly, and now, all that was left was to sit back and watch as his enemies crumbled under the weight of their own underestimation.

Zeus, the clone, turned his sharp gaze back to the task at hand: guarding Hades. His expression was calm yet vigilant, ensuring nothing disturbed the main body as it continued its cultivation.

Meanwhile, in the center of the room, Hades—the true body now wearing the newly crafted Hades Divine Mask—was deep in his cultivation. Every resource he had gathered from the Malachor henchmen was being put to use.

The inferior mana stones, dark herbs, and other shadowy materials hummed with energy as Hades absorbed their power. His expression remained focused, the intense red glow of his eyes reflecting his unwavering determination.

[How does it feel to swim in darkness, oh mighty Hades?] the system's voice chimed in, dripping with its usual mix of arrogance and mockery.

[I hope you enjoy that little collection of dark trinkets you picked up. Don't tell me they're not enough for you. After all, they're only the best those pitiful Malachors could offer.]

Hades's lips curled into a faint smile, though he kept his focus on the cultivation process. "I'm making do with what I have," he replied, his tone cool and composed. "I just need to reach three-star strength before stepping into the Necrovauld Academy."

[Three-star, huh?] the system sneered, its tone playful. [You know, if it weren't for me, you'd be stuck as a nobody, fumbling around with basic spells. But with my brilliance, you'll be a force even those Necrovauld fools won't see coming.]

Hades's smile deepened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "And yet here I am, turning their own resources against them. Seems like a fair trade, don't you think?"

[Hmph, I suppose so,] the system retorted, though its arrogance was tinged with a hint of satisfaction. [Just make sure you don't get too comfortable. We have a lot more ground to cover, and I'd hate to see you lag behind, even with all this dark energy at your disposal.]

Hades's eyes flashed with determination as he continued to draw in the dark energy, feeling it flow through him, strengthening his core. "Don't worry. I'll be ready. And when the time comes, Necrovauld won't know what hit them."

The system chuckled, its tone almost affectionate in its mockery. [That's the spirit. Just don't forget who's the real genius behind all this.]

Hades ignored the system's usual self-aggrandizement, focusing instead on his cultivation. The dark energy surged within him, pushing him closer to his goal.

He knew that soon, he would be ready to step into the Necrovauld Academy with all the power he needed to infiltrate and conquer from within.

Meanwhile, back at Vesperin Malachor's location, the air was thick with tension. Vesperin had been on edge ever since his humiliating encounter with Zeus, and the sudden deaths of Thalrik and Vortas only deepened his anxiety. He stared in shock at the charred remains of his two henchmen, his senses assaulted by the acrid stench of burning flesh.

Vesperin's mind raced as he processed the scene before him. It was clear that something had been planted inside their bodies—something that had exploded with lethal precision. The realization sent a chill down his spine.

"How could this have happened?" he muttered to himself, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. He knew he had to act fast. Whoever was behind this was not only capable of killing his men but also had the audacity to do it right under his nose.

"Find out who they've been in contact with over the past few days," Vesperin ordered, his voice cold and commanding. "I want to know everyone they've touched or spoken to. The person who dared to kill them might be bold enough to target me as well. We can't afford to be caught off guard."

His men scattered to carry out his orders, but Vesperin couldn't shake the growing sense of dread. Just who had he offended? Who had the power and cunning to infiltrate his ranks and execute such a flawless assassination?

Shaken by the unexpected deaths of his henchmen, Vesperin hurried to his private chamber—a secluded room where no one else was permitted to enter. This was his sanctuary, the one place where he felt truly secure, shielded from the dangers lurking outside.

As Vesperin settled into the familiar space, the weight of recent events pressed heavily on his mind. He knew he had to regain his strength, to refocus and prepare before returning to the academy.

But as he sat down to meditate, the anger simmering within him refused to fade. It clawed at his thoughts, demanding retribution.

His hands clenched into fists as he stared into the darkness of the room, his voice a low, venomous whisper.

"Whoever you are, I will find you," he vowed, his tone laced with cold fury. "And when I do, I'll make sure you suffer for what you've done. How dare you kill members of the Malachor family in front of me."

The words echoed in the stillness, a promise of the vengeance he intended to exact. Vesperin's eyes burned with a fierce determination as he began his meditation, using the anger and fear to fuel his resolve. Whoever had dared to challenge him, to strike down his men, would pay dearly.

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