The clang of steel still echoed in the clearing when she disengaged, vanishing once more into the folds of illusion.
But Lucavion didn't chase.
He didn't need to.
Her vitality shimmered against the backdrop of the world like a heat signature beneath glass—fast, agile, but ultimately human. Not divine. Not something beyond.
Just another contestant.
'Skilled,' he noted, rotating his wrist with a slow, elegant twist as he brought the estoc back into line. 'But she bleeds like the rest.'
Then—she came again.
A flicker from the right.
No—left.
She split, twin shadows lunging in a pincer formation, both cloaked in mirage, the glint of her daggers barely visible through the shimmer of warped light. Her footsteps were silent, erased by mana-infused cloth, but her intent—ah, that was always audible, if you knew how to listen.
