The forest was amiss with the sounds of battle. The clanging of metal weapons against another hard object reverberated throughout the vast expanse of the forest. Marcus blocked one of the oncoming vines with his fist, pulverizing the nature weapon, but to no avail. As soon as it got destroyed, it would only regenerate itself, forming a new vine that is much stronger and sturdier than the one before it. It's like when callouses form on a person's hand due to repeated training, only to make your hands tougher and sturdier. The same applies to these tree roots.
But what does it matter? It doesn't mean anything to Marcus if his opponent is a deity, or an immortal being with infinite lives. As long as the creature breathes and bleeds, it can be vanquished. That was his way, his mantra, and it wouldn't be changed no matter the opponent he faces.
"[Cascade]".