The others had reached their designated Guilds and found themselves in a situation very similar to the one Raze had faced. The air in the North was thick with the scent of spent mana and cold steel.
In particular, Liam had just finished a grueling encounter. He stood in the center of a large, theater-style room, his sword gleaming with a faint residue of Qi. One of the local guilds used to hold their formal meetings in this place, but the rows of velvet seats were now shredded and scorched. All of the guild members had already been eliminated before he arrived, and Liam had only just managed to take down the three Noble Guild members responsible for the massacre.
"These guys are tough… really tough," Liam panted, wiping a streak of blood from his forehead. "They had an artifact that could create after-images of themselves. They were so perfect that not even my system could tell which one was the real body and which was just light."
