The cold, synthetic voice echoed, and the surviving Destroyers froze in place, as if unsure of what to do.
Their heads turned in unison toward Orson's position, blind and lost.
So they had limits.
Orson's lips curved in a knowing smile. These strange machines weren't omnipotent. They couldn't copy everything. At least not the S-tier forbidden magic or the soul-brand techniques. Their bodies simply couldn't withstand it.
Meanwhile, the knight-form Destroyer that he had killed was knitting itself back together at frightening speed. Its maximum health, though, was thirty million lower than before. Resurrection, yes—but not without cost.
With the enemy's weakness in hand, Orson stopped playing around. He rained long-range fire down, hammering their health into kill range before shifting into Chaos Rogue and diving in to fight them up close.
