Across the burning span of Aesmirius's domain, the storm of battle stilled for only a breath—just long enough for Liam to understand the truth that had been stalking him since the moment he stepped into this realm. The solution wasn't another strategy. It wasn't another counter-calculation or another layered feint. It wasn't intellect at all.
It was the abandonment of it.
Reason—his lifelong compass, his blade sharper than any weapon—was precisely what chained him. The illusion didn't simply predict him; it mirrored the logic behind every move he made. Every thought, every deduction, every conclusion… the illusion had already reached it. That made his greatest strength his ultimate downfall.
So the only path left was the one that no logic could follow.
Instinct. Pure, feral, untethered instinct.
