Ben swung his dagger downward, its dark edge tearing through the air with a sound like ripping silk. The force of the strike alone carved a deep fissure across the chamber floor. But instead of meeting flesh, the blade passed harmlessly through Belial's figure, shattering him into a cloud of swirling shadows.
"Another illusion?" Ben cursed, pivoting sharply to scan his surroundings.
A mocking chuckle echoed softly around him. Multiple images of Belial materialized, circling him, smirking, adjusting their monocles simultaneously. Each clone seemed identical, radiating the same aura and the same taunting smile.
"Strength is meaningless if you cannot even touch your enemy, Sir Ben?" the illusions spoke in unison, their voices overlapping In disorienting harmony.
Ben clenched his teeth, frustration boiling inside him. "Cheap tricks won't save you, Belial!"
