Lily was right.
Konrad couldn't let his ego distract him, not when he was this close to glory.
He would have lost long ago without her insights—and that crazy surplus of luck.
He never even expected to win this duel in the first place. He had hoped to stand his ground—to convince the tribe with the boost from the adamantite to follow him. But now?
The unexpected success was getting to his head.
Konrad, of all people—he, who hated crowds or performing for them—wanted to impress the tribesmen. He had a goal, and he intended to push his luck as far as it would take him.
Cleaving that massive earthen beast into fragments gave him a huge confidence boost.
He set the duel's pace now—but being in control wasn't enough. He also had to keep it.
Konrad couldn't be sure he was the only one with nasty tricks up his sleeve.
He couldn't let his focus waver, taking a deep breath. Neutralizing the elemental as fast as possible was his priority. He aimed at the joints—slashing through them without resistance.
The monster crashed back into the earth, shaking the entire village.
It still clung to life—if earth and stone could even live—but it was no longer a threat.
Easy. The once-scary giant lay at his feet, charred, helpless, and halfway disassembled.
He tried his best not to let it go to his head—and sure enough, Nimrod was ready to ruin his victory lap. He recovered from the shock, peppering Konrad with even more sharp pebbles.
They were tiny now, doing little—almost as if his twin was finally low on mana.
But the flying shards could still have blinded him. The scepter alone wasn't enough for Nimrod to win, but he couldn't underestimate it.
No letting his guard down—no dying to a thousand cuts.
He needed something permanent, an almost static defense against the frustrating little attacks.
Casting a fireball for each wave felt like a waste. It also risked something slipping through.
Apart from becoming careless, the returning dizziness and his nosebleed didn't help, either.
His accuracy suffered, so he summoned fire in the shape of a thin wall to melt the projectiles. It wasn't as effective as his twin's wind magic, but it was all he had.
And unlike air—or say, water magic—fire was a double-edged sword.
He wasn't immune to his own flames like some lucky folks in the movies of his previous life.
If he made them hot enough to melt the projectiles, he had to keep them at a safe distance.
It made fueling them with mana twice as taxing, but having them track Nimrod's every move made it worth the effort. Unconventional for a shield—fire and forget—but it worked.
Adding illusions made it even better; Konrad couldn't help but smirk at the effect.
For the outside observer, he turned himself into a fearsome fire-warrior.
Even if he didn't have Welf's and Lily's fiery red hair, he could still appear like one of the Blood Moon's. The gasps and murmurs told him it was a hit with the tribesmen.
But it was only an aesthetic.
'Don't get too cocky, meow,' her voice echoed in his head. 'You've yet to land a hit on him.'
Ouch. Yes, that was true, but seeing his twin tremble and backing away—
"Watch out," the girl yelled.
Too late.
He should've listened.
His defense was gone, blown away by the wind in a split second—a real tornado, pushing him back. The illusion remained intact, the outside viewers wouldn't notice anything—yet.
But a lightning bolt in the chest sent him flying.
It felt more like a taser strike than arcane energy, yet the pain paralyzed him.
He couldn't rise back up. Even a weak strike was overwhelming without proper defense.
And now, his sword flew off, landing far out of his reach.
Overconfidence must have been the bane of his second existence. How could he keep falling for the same thing? Nimrod approached with a sneer, and Konrad couldn't even sneer back.
In this pathetic state, even the broken elemental could've crushed him. But his twin dispelled it.
Did he retract the mana that held it together? This wasn't the right time to run his analytics, but he couldn't do much else in that position, except—
The rage simmering inside him took the shape of a fireball—or rather, a dozen of them.
Despite his control slipping, he refused to accept his loss.
Casting didn't need him to move, and even Nimrod's wall of wind couldn't deflect everything. Not when Konrad calculated the direction and speed at which it operated.
His twin caught fire and screamed—the stench of burnt flesh filling the air—though he put them out right away.
Responding in kind, another barrage of lightning struck Konrad.
Without the sword, he couldn't hope to stop them—so he did his best to ignore them.
It was easier said than done—his muscles contracting in pain.
His lungs burned, but he was too stubborn, clinging to consciousness.
So what if his twin could divert the fires and put out the flames?
Konrad had an isekai microwave.
He summoned infrared light with half his mana, enveloping Nimrod in waves of searing heat.
Blow that away, he thought, as his twin curled up, screaming.
Their magic duel started as a show of force, turning into a battle of wits—and now it had devolved into a mindless brawl.
Nimrod summoned water and wind to keep himself cool, but his skin started to peel off.
Konrad reached his limit, his brain shutting down, and he could no longer focus.
The muffled voices of the crowd became frantic, and he saw fire and freckles—no, Lily's face hovering over him.
She looked both annoyed and worried—spreading gentle warmth across Konrad's body.
It was familiar—her healing magic—which could only mean one thing.
The duel must be over.
Had his twin won? No, he lay motionless by his side, tribal healers surrounding him, too.
A draw then? It couldn't be, he still had mana left, if he could regain his focus—
But no matter how much his pain eased, he sank deeper into the darkness.
His eyelids were too heavy, and for once, Lily's face seemed dark, too.
None of her usual, chaotic energy. No confidence in her hazel eyes.
"Konny, don't fall asleep—fight it," she pleaded, but her voice came from underwater.
Fight what? He was a bit tired—he'd be all right if he got some rest. Then he'd sort out this mess he had gotten himself into with the draw, and—
Strange, colorful lights flew around him now.
No, not around the body Lily was clutching in her delicate yet strong hands.
It was as if he saw that scene through a window—watching it from the darkness. And these lights, these spirits orbited him in a chaotic pattern—from within.
He turned, and the darkness gave way to blinding white.
It killed even the thought of sleep, but he still couldn't escape it.
An endless, white void. Could it have been the purgatory?
Lu had shown him a vision of it on his deathbed once before—so, had he died?
"No, not yet," and right as he thought about him, Lu appeared by his side. "But this'll complicate things."