There were constant clanging sounds as Anthony moved quickly toward the rain of sharp blades. He narrowly avoided most of the attacks, but some of them still scratched him, cutting his arms and torso, leaving bleeding wounds.
This is not the end. Hundreds of arms were waving, as if hundreds of people were swinging swords at Anthony. The sharp blades attacked from different angles. They coordinated closely without interfering with each other, and tried to block all of Anthony's routes of movement.
Unable to dodge, Anthony held up the spiked sword and held it vertically in front of his chest, trying to block his neck and heart, hoping to survive this round of strangulation.
He knew very well that he could not fall down yet. Anthony still needed to continue commanding the battlefield and guarding the gate of heaven. He could not give up everything and transform into a hateful demon.
As gusts of cold whistling wind blew, Anthony suddenly became less nervous and instead sighed inwardly.
If only his power was that of Medanzo, then the dense iron armor would block most of the attacks for him, and he would use it as a barrier and continue moving forward.
It’s a pity that his power is Raphael. The blurry illusion can’t play much role on the demons. These monsters still maintain the most primitive desire for killing, so no matter how crazy the illusion is, it is just another luxurious killing feast in their eyes.
Yes, that's all.
The sharp blades gathered together and tore Anthony's figure into countless pieces. Blood and flesh splattered everywhere, but soon they solidified in the air, and then collapsed one by one like ashes after burning, disappearing from sight.
It seemed that it did not cut Anthony, and only tore a vague shadow. Then, a more intense pain came from the other side. The spike sword easily cut open the bloated torso, and a large amount of gray liquid gushed out from under the pus-covered epidermis.
Anthony's eyes were as sharp as torches as he dodged and rushed. The illusion could not affect the hundred-headed demon too much, but as long as he could hide his figure slightly, it would be enough.
It let out a roar, and between its hundreds of heads, flames rose more and more violently. Its broken arms were pulled by red lines, and then under its cut skin, it began to wriggle strangely, as if some kind of monster was gestating in its body.
The next moment, countless pale hands burst out of the body.
The new palms waved violently, and in a trance, the hundred-headed demon looked more like a group of constantly wriggling seaweed, composed of countless arms. They grabbed everything around them, pressed the ground, and lifted up their bloated figures.
What was even more bizarre was that the palm cracked, revealing scarlet eyes that moved rapidly, peering around, and the five fingers became sharp and slender, becoming like other sharp blades, chasing Anthony and trying to tear him to pieces.
Anthony felt a headache and retreated backwards. More and more hands covered the torso of the hundred-headed demon. It was like a giant porcupine, covered with sharp blades, making it difficult to approach. More importantly, it also had the embodiment of power.
Just as he was thinking about how to deal with the situation, a series of gunshots were heard, followed by shouts.
"avoid!"
The instinct of the body drove Anthony and the other demon hunters. They dodged to the sides and hid behind huge stone pillars. Then countless bullets burst out in the flames behind them, pouring down madly.