HP: god of potions

Chapter 87

Then, without a word, Gray straightened, his presence commanding. A shift in the air signaled something greater. Suddenly, his form began to expand and distort, his body transforming into his Animagus form—a giant white lion with piercing golden eyes. His mane shimmered with an almost celestial glow, and his roar reverberated through the air, striking fear into his opponents. The transformation was seamless, and Gray wasted no time asserting his dominance. His massive paws crushed the earth beneath him as he leaped forward, immediately instilling terror in the hearts of those who dared to face him.

The battle was unlike anything witnessed before. Gray's fighting style as a lion was brutal yet calculated. He moved with predatory precision, blending raw power with an unnerving grace. His claws raked through the air, slashing his enemies with lethal efficiency, while his powerful jaws snapped with unrelenting force. Each movement was a deadly dance, a combination of feral instinct and strategic aggression. His opponents, caught off guard by the sheer ferocity of his Animagus form, scrambled to regroup. They were skilled fighters, but Gray's overwhelming strength and speed gave him the upper hand.

The first wave of opponents attacked cautiously, attempting to surround him. Gray responded with a deafening roar that paralyzed them momentarily, using the opening to pounce on one of the leaders. His claws tore through armor like it was paper, and the leader's screams were drowned out by the chaos. Another fighter tried to strike from behind, but Gray swiveled with lightning speed, his tail sweeping them off their feet. Without missing a beat, he lunged, pinning the attacker to the ground and ending the fight with a crushing bite. His golden eyes burned with intensity, his gaze alone enough to make some opponents falter.

As the battle raged on, Gray's opponents attempted to adapt. They coordinated their efforts, launching simultaneous attacks in an effort to overwhelm him. But Gray was relentless, using his immense strength to scatter them like leaves in a storm. He darted between enemies, his movements too swift for them to track, and he capitalized on their mistakes with brutal efficiency. One opponent managed to land a glancing blow, but it only seemed to fuel his fury. Gray turned on the attacker with a growl that shook the ground, his claws raking through the air and sending the fighter flying.

Gray was not done—no, he was far from it. As he emerged from his Animagus form, his hand lifted high into the air, and immediately, starlight began to glow brightly. The atmosphere shimmered with energy as Gray decided to unleash his star powers fully. Against the now-diminished forces of the mages, elves, Nilfgaardians, monsters, and the Northern Kingdoms, Gray stood alone but resolute. With a simple motion, he released a Star Blast that tore through their ranks, and any objects, items, or surfaces he overloaded with star energy exploded at exaggerated rates. The sky seemed to echo his power, and the forces of the continent could only watch in shock and horror.

The forces attempted to regroup, their fear turning into desperation as they tried to fight harder. Gray, however, moved like a walking, exploding star, his very presence tearing through their armies with relentless precision. Soldiers, mages, and monsters alike fell before him, unable to withstand the devastation he wrought. Each blast illuminated the battlefield, leaving scorched earth and shattered resolve in its wake. By the time their numbers had been greatly diminished, the air was heavy with the stench of defeat, and the forces hesitated, unsure if they could continue.

Then, the White Flame, the leader of the Nilfgaardian army, yelled, "He is out of powers! Attack!" His words seemed to reignite the courage—or perhaps the desperation—of the united forces. Monsters, humans, and non-humans all surged forward as one, a tide of fury and fear directed at a single man. But Gray was not done, not even close. Though his star energy faded, he was far from exhausted, his steps deliberate as though bidding farewell to each power he wielded. It was clear to all that this was no surrender—it was a transition.

Much to the dismay of the forces, Gray had one last thing to show them. His final act was to embrace his demonic form. The moment his transformation began, the battlefield fell silent. The once-chaotic charge halted as the armies watched in frozen terror. Even the mindless monsters stopped in their tracks, their instincts recognizing a power far beyond their comprehension. Gray's demonic form emerged, shrouded in dark flames and emanating an overwhelming aura of malice and destruction.