Faced with Dark Prince Grea's elusive attacks, Vhaeraun quickly found himself caught in a dilemma.
On one hand, he could not contend with Shar, the Night Goddess who controlled the Shadow Weave.
On the other hand, he had no way to extend his Divine Power perception into other times and spaces.
So he had no idea when his opponent would vanish or when he would suddenly reappear.
Before long, more than a dozen holes had been poked into his body.
Moreover, that sword, imbued with the power of darkness and nothingness, seemed to carry a powerful curse that made the wounds extremely difficult to heal.
If Ghaunadaur had not been nearby, launching indiscriminate frenzied attacks that disrupted Grea's rhythm, Vhaeraun would probably have been drenched in his own Divine Blood by now.
Clearly, he had gradually developed the combat style best suited to himself, bringing the powers of darkness and nothingness to their absolute limit.
His use of the Shadow Weave in particular was already no weaker than Raymond's control over the true Weave.
Not only that!
He was also constantly trying to use the Planeswalker's Spark to draw that terrifying energy from the Dark Void, using it to resist and even destroy Divine Power.
Vhaeraun could count the number of times he had personally participated in Divine Wars on one hand. He had spent his entire life playing conspiracies and schemes; when had he ever seen anything like this?
Now he could only be forced into a defensive position, desperately protecting his Divine Spark and spiritual essence while dealing with the Ooze god's indiscriminate attacks. He was in a miserable state.
Watching his eldest son ruthlessly ravage a god, Raymond showed no reaction. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the nearby Dark Maiden and asked with a smile, "Do