Without wasting a moment, Stiles shot forward, his twin blades gleaming in the dim light as he activated Heavenly Descent. His body moved in a blur, descending with the force of a waterfall, his swords slicing through the air at the Guardian's chest. But when the blades met the Guardian's stone hide, there was barely any impact—the attack did little more than scratch its surface.
Stiles skidded back, eyes widening in surprise. "What the hell? That should've done more!"
Before he could react, the Guardian swung its massive sword down toward him with slow speeds. Stiles's instincts kicked in, and he managed to sidestep, the blade missing him by inches. He stumbled slightly but regained his balance.
In an instant, Dante was beside him, his hand outstretched. "Get back!" he thought, using Phantom Replacement to shift Stiles out of harm's way. The next second, Dante surged forward with an incredible force, landing a heavy punch right into the Guardian's chest. The impact echoed throughout the room, but the Guardian didn't budge. Dante's knuckles stung from the blow, and he could feel the Guardian's immense weight through his own strike, but the damage was minimal—its health dropped, but barely.
The Guardian snarled, its stone eyes narrowing as it swung its massive sword in retaliation toward Dante. The sheer force behind the strike would have split him in half if it landed. But Dante, anticipating the attack, used Phantom Replacement once more, vanishing in a burst of dust and reappearing near the group.
He landed with a smooth roll, coming to a crouch, his breath steady despite the close call. He stood up and wiped the dust off his hoodie, eyes still locked on the Guardian.
"That thing's a damn tank." Dante muttered, though there was a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "It takes a hit, but it doesn't give much ground. We're gonna need something heavier than that."
Stiles and SteelArm exchanged a quick glance. Stiles gave a short nod. "Guess we'll need to get more creative, huh?"
"Just stall it out for now," Dante said, eyes still scanning the Guardian's movements, "Until we find an opening. Don't waste any more power on weak strikes."
The Guardian, undeterred by the brief interruption, let out a low growl, its sword held high, ready to continue the fight.
As Dante and SteelArm repositioned, preparing for another round, the Guardian suddenly let out a deep, bone-rattling growl. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the air seemed to ripple with raw power as the Guardian's voice filled the chamber.
[Guardian's Roar.]
The roar was deafening, reverberating through the walls like a shockwave of pure force. As the sound hit them, their bodies stiffened. Stiles, who had been preparing to make another strike, suddenly felt his limbs grow heavy. His reaction time slowed, and his usual speed felt almost sluggish in comparison.
"Damn…" Stiles muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as his body refused to move at its normal pace. The Guardian's roar had completely disrupted his flow, lowering both his attack speed and defense. His body felt weaker, slower, like he was wading through thick mud.
Stiles gritted his teeth, but before he could attempt to strike, he noticed movement from the floor. Poison darts shot out from hidden walls, and spikes from the ground began to rise, triggered by the roar. It was a trap—a deadly combination of the Guardian's roar and the environment around them.
Knowing he couldn't keep up with the speed required to dodge everything, Stiles hesitated, but quickly decided to back off instead. He moved at a much slower pace, trying to push through the roar, but his sluggish movements put him at risk of the traps.
He managed to narrowly avoid a dart that zipped past his ear, but his foot grazed the edge of a rising spike. He yanked it back just in time, but not without feeling the sting of the trap on his heel.
With a final burst of effort, Stiles made it to the rest of the group near the entrance of the room.
"Shit, that roar messed me up…" Stiles muttered, wincing as he looked down at his slowed movements.
Dante, seeing the effects of the roar, snapped his head back to the Guardian, his eyes narrowing. "It's not just the roar, or debuffs, activates traps, too. We've got to be careful of our surroundings while that roar is up. We can't fight with everything we've got while we're debuffed."
SteelArm grunted, still unaffected by the roar's psychological impact but clearly aware of the traps. "I can take the hits for a while maybe, but that roar... it complicates my defenses a bit."
Dante scanned the battlefield, his mind racing as he processed everything they'd encountered so far. He straightened up, looking toward the group with a calm but serious expression. "So here's what we know," Dante started, his voice steady. "The Guardian swings slow but with devastating force—he's got power most likely, but his speed's nothing to write home about. He's also confined to this area, doesn't seem like he's capable of leaving a certain radius in the room. His movements are sluggish, so we can capitalize on that. But we have to be careful."
He glanced over at the Guardian, who was still standing tall, unfazed by their previous attempts.
"His shield's a damn problem. Reflects physical attacks we throw at him for a few seconds, so hitting him head-on when that's up is pointless. And then there's that roar... it messes with your mind, your body—speed, defense, even your reflexes. It's like it throws everything out of balance. One moment you're moving fast, the next you're moving like you're underwater."
Dante let out a long sigh, wiping his hand over his face. "This is going to take a hell of a lot longer than I hoped. We're in for a grind, and we'll need to play it smart. We can't just rush in without thinking."
Dante's gaze hardened as he eyed the Guardian. "We need to play the long game—pick our moments, and stay patient. That's the only way we make it out of this hellhole alive. Preserve your energy, too. There might be more to this shitty place afterwards."
Dante narrowed his eyes at the Guardian, his mind calculating the best approach. "Alright, here's the plan," he began, his voice steady but serious. "I'll be the one to push the offensive and draw its attention. Stiles, SteelArm, you two will focus on supporting me and stalling when needed."
He looked at Stiles, who was already checking his twin blades, and then at SteelArm, whose imposing frame seemed ready for any challenge.
"Dante," Stiles asked, "how the hell are you planning to hit it?"
Dante gave a small grin. "I'm going to use Phantom Cleave to weaken it first. That attack hits its soul... if it has one, bypassing its armor and defenses, making it easier for the rest of us to land our blows."
SteelArm cracked his knuckles. "Stiles and I can hold it back while you hit, making sure it doesn't get any weird ideas."
"Exactly," Dante said. "Once I've hit him with Phantom Cleave, I'll use Phantom Suppression to drain its stamina and keep it from using those damn traps too often. After that, I'll activate Phantom Overdrive and we go all in."
Stiles nodded, a smirk appearing on his face. "I like the sound of that, even though I don't really know what the hell any of your skills do, but I'll trust in you for this."
Dante's gaze hardened as he turned to the Guardian. "Alright, let's do this. Move quick and be ready to adjust, the moment that shield comes up, we'll back off. Patience is key. We can win if we repeat this process... No idea how long it'll take but we will kill that son of a bitch."