Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Caius blinked, momentarily stunned by Zeus's sudden attack. His surprise quickly turned to anger, and he glared at Zeus with a deep scowl. "A sneak attack? How cowardly of you!" Caius spat, his voice thick with contempt.

Zeus responded with a laugh, a light and mocking sound that seemed to hang in the air. "Come on, Caius. You're the third-ranked outer disciple, aren't you? Surely, you're strong enough to handle a little surprise attack," he teased, his smirk growing. "Even if I catch you off guard, it shouldn't be a problem for someone of your caliber, right?"

Caius's scowl deepened, his anger flaring at Zeus's words. "You've got a lot of nerve for a newbie," he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. There was a hint of disbelief in his tone, as if he couldn't fathom how someone so new would dare speak to him like that.

Zeus's smirk didn't waver, but there was a flash of something sharper in his eyes—an edge of anger. "If you're going to lose to me, you might want to reconsider calling me 'newbie,'" he shot back, his voice steady but laced with a quiet challenge.

Caius laughed in response, but there was no warmth in the sound—it was cold, almost menacing. "Do you really think you can beat me?" he asked, his voice dripping with derision. "That punch of yours was just a lucky shot. Now, let me show you the real power of the third rank."

With a swift, fluid motion, Caius drew his sword, the blade catching the light as it gleamed with a deadly promise. The air around him seemed to crackle with tension, and a faint hum of energy surrounded him, making the atmosphere even more charged.

Zeus's smile remained unfazed, almost amused by Caius's display. "Come on then," Zeus said, his voice calm but with a challenge beneath it. "Show me the strength of the third-ranked outer disciple."

Caius's expression shifted from irritation to deadly seriousness, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Zeus. "You're going to regret underestimating me," he declared, his tone filled with cold determination.

Without another word, Caius sprang into action. His sword moved with blinding speed, the blade a blur as it cut through the air with precision and power. The force of his attack was palpable, the sheer intent behind it meant to overwhelm and crush any opposition.

Zeus, ever quick on his feet, met the attack head-on. His own movements were swift and controlled, and with a sharp clang, their blades collided.

The impact sent a ripple of force between them, but Zeus remained steady. As their swords locked for a brief moment, Zeus instinctively stepped back, reassessing his opponent with keen eyes.

"So, you're a thunder element warrior," Zeus remarked, his voice steady as he noted the crackling energy that had surged through Caius's sword during their exchange.

Caius's lips curled into a confident smirk, pride flashing in his eyes. "Now you know," he said, his tone dripping with superiority. "Do you feel like giving up yet? It would be the smart thing to do."

Zeus's smirk only widened, his eyes alight with excitement. "Give up?" he repeated, his tone almost mocking. "Not a chance. If anything, this just got a whole lot more interesting."

Caius's expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. The playful attitude Zeus maintained only served to fuel his irritation.

"I'll wipe that smug smile off your face," Caius snarled, his voice low and filled with promise. The air around him crackled more intensely as he prepared for his next move, his grip on his sword tightening in anticipation.

"You're welcome to try," Zeus replied, his tone calm but with an underlying edge of challenge. His posture remained relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, ready for whatever Caius would throw at him next.

Caius's face twisted with anger as he realized that Zeus wasn't the pushover he had expected. The mocking smirk on Zeus's face only fueled his rage. Deciding it was time to get serious, Caius's expression hardened, and the air around him began to crackle with electricity.

Without hesitation, Caius activated his skills. His sword became enveloped in a crackling thunder aura, the energy pulsating along the blade's edge. Simultaneously, his legs were coated with a similar thunder energy, enhancing his speed to frightening levels.

These were his fundamental techniques—Thunder Dash and Thunder Strike—skills that had secured him his position as the third-ranked outer disciple.

With a burst of speed, Caius dashed toward Zeus, his sword slashing through the air with deadly precision. The sound of thunder accompanied each movement, a testament to the power behind his strikes. Caius was determined to wipe that smirk off Zeus's face and prove his superiority.

But as Caius's sword descended, Zeus moved with equal swiftness. With a calm, almost effortless motion, Zeus raised his arm and blocked the thunder-infused blade with his own. The clash of their weapons sent a shockwave through the arena, but Zeus stood firm, his expression unchanging.

Caius's eyes widened in disbelief. He pulled back and launched another attack, this time even faster and with more force. But once again, Zeus blocked it with ease, his smirk never wavering.

Frustration boiled over in Caius as he unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one more powerful than the last. His sword moved in a blur, the thunder aura around it crackling with intensity. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, Zeus blocked every single attack, his movements smooth and controlled.

Finally, Caius retreated a few steps, his breath coming in shallow pants as he stared at Zeus, his eyes a storm of anger and confusion. "How… How can this be? How are you blocking my attacks so easily?" he demanded, his voice laced with disbelief and frustration.

Zeus's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and superiority. "Because, Caius ," he replied, his tone calm and unwavering, "I'm stronger."

The words hit Caius like a jolt of electricity. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing into slits as a surge of anger flared within him. His teeth clenched, and his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, the realization that he might be outmatched only fueling his rage further.

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