Chương 52: Delusion

It felt like time had crawled to a stop as Alexandra's gaze was enthralled by the red flower shining deep inside the cluster of roots that had swallowed Lanterne. Another beast blessed by the Yshant. Unless… She squinted. That beast, she was pretty sure, was a Perub. Could it be an illusion? She could tell from her first encounter with a Perub that they drew upon her memories to create their illusions. This time, she'd seen through it, but who could say if she was really out of the monster's spell.

Alexandra gritted her teeth. That had to be it. This couldn't be real. A regular Perub was only supposed to be at the Iron rank. Maybe an old one could reach Bronze, but even with the Yshant's blessing… Her quest! It wasn't completed. Which meant that she hadn't actually reached Lanterne. She sighed in relief. Then she ran. She didn't have time to get bogged down with a random Perub. Not without knowing what had happened to her friends. The beast tried to stop her, moving its roots to close off her escape path.

Alexandra didn't flinch, the combination of Combat Sense, Sure Footing, and Running making it so not a single root could reach her. Even a Bronze rank Perub couldn't stretch its illusion forever. Soon, she left the roots' range, and stepped onto the path leading out of Lanterne. The packed earth and gravel continued south through the plains. She kept running. As long as the path was still there, the illusion wasn't gone. But the path wasn't disappearing. She ran until the roots were a dark smear behind her.

The plains rolled on either side, dry grass and pastel flowers bending in the wind. That was the problem. She fixed her eyes on the packed earth ahead and kept her breathing even. The Perub was still in it. Had to be. The figure appeared at the crest of a low rise. Alexandra slowed. She knew a Perub's illusion could deal real damage. He was standing in the middle of the path with an axe in his hands. His face contorted in rage and hatred. Those eyes… Just as she remembered him. John. She stopped.

For three seconds she just looked at him. Then she almost laughed. Of course. Of course the Perub had found that. She started walking again, straight toward him. He didn't move as she closed the distance. His eyes tracked her. His chest heaving up and down.

"You did this," he said. She didn't answer. Raised her sickle. There was no point in talking with a fake. John's face contorted further.

"I fuckin' knew it. It's all you." He raised his axe, stepped forward.

"Die! For Lanterne!" Combat Sense showed her where to stand to avoid the strike. His axe dove into the dirt. John was a Silver, like most adults. But he wasn't a fighter, and this wasn't even the real him. Just a projection created from her memories. She lunged, aiming to hook the tip of her sickle on his shoulder. He ducked. Her blade caught nothing. Alexandra stepped back. John raised his axe again. He was already panting. Stupid plant, wasting energy trying to make him look real.

He came at her again before she'd reset her footing. She got her sickle up in time to deflect the axe but not redirect it. The force drove her arm back into her own chest and she stumbled. He was faster than she'd built him in her head. The Perub was working from more than surface memory. John pressed forward. No technique. Just weight and momentum, axe swinging in wide arcs that ate up the space between them. Alexandra kept retreating, reading the pattern. She waited for the wind-up and cut inside it.

Her sickle raked across his forearm. She flinched. He bled, but grabbed her wrist. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The grip was iron and she knew immediately she wasn't breaking it clean. She dropped her weight instead, twisted down and under, pulled her wrist toward his thumb. It cost her the sickle, it spun out into the grass, but she came free. She retreated fast, putting five meters between. John turned to face her. He looked at the scratch on his forearm.

Then at her.

"I should have done this sooner," he said, his voice unsteady. She didn't answer.

"Then they'd still be alive. You monster." He moved. Same destination: the sickle. Just as she was bending down to grab it, he swung his axe down, forcing her to jump to the side to avoid losing her hand. She rolled in the flowers, and pushed herself up. Just in time, John was already closing in with another strike. Too fast. She unstrapped her own axe from her belt, and swung it. The two weapons collided mid air, blade against blade. Both she and John were sent recoiling, but she took the worst of it.

The illusion had better attributes than her. Not a surprise if the Perub was indeed Bronze. It was also heavier, and faster. Running would be hard. She frowned, racking her brain for a solution. She swung again. John caught it on the haft of his axe and shoved. She absorbed the redirect badly, stumbling sideways. The axe felt wrong in her hand. No skill. She tried anyway. Three exchanges, and each one left her worse off. She couldn't find the angles she was used to.

Her strikes were readable, and the Perub was doing just that. She broke off, circling. Her breathing had gone ragged without her noticing. The plains offered nothing. Flat ground, no cover, the path cutting straight south behind her. John watched her circle.

"When will you call Valudipan? Go ahead, I have nothing left to lose." Her axe hand was trembling slightly. She gripped tighter and it didn't help. She couldn't win this way.

"Your master won't help?" John pushed, a distorted smile on his face.

"Show me your dark powers." She gritted her teeth.

"You don't want me doing that." Neither did she. Would casting Dark Bolt on the illusion even hurt the Perub's main body? John laughed.

"So you finally admit it."

"Fuck it." Life Curse. Dark Bolt. She put as little power into the spell as her control allowed her to. A pitch black needle condensed on her fingertip. She released it, and it flew straight for John, not leaving him a chance to dodge. It penetrated straight through his chest. Alexandra felt it in her own. The edge of her vision blurred. Then she felt it. Bile was climbing up her throat. She swallowed. John spat.

"Is that it?" He stepped forward.

"Is that all the power a fuckin' demon can muster? Nausea?" Alexandra took a step back. She miscalculated. It was still a Bronze monster, Dark Bolt probably needed more. She hesitated. The price was too much. John closed the distance before she'd made up her mind. She blocked on instinct, caught his axe on hers, and this time leaned into it instead of absorbing. It bought her a second. She used it to move laterally, keeping the sickle in her peripheral vision. Still in the grass, four meters to her left.

He adjusted faster than she expected. He struck low, and she had to skip back hard to keep her leg. Her heel caught uneven ground and she went down on one knee. John raised his axe above his head. Now. Life Curse. Dark Bolt. The needle left her fingertip and her sense of smell with it. John flinched left on reflex, but the bolt hit his stomach anyway. She pushed past the growing nausea and lunged, fingers closing around the handle of her sickle. Then she rolled to her feet before John had fully gathered himself.

She moved inside his next swing without thinking. Her sickle found the back of his knee, the blade caught a tendon. John buckled. His axe went wide. Alexandra groaned in pain. That fucking sickness. She stepped past him as he dropped, hooked the tip of her sickle over his shoulder from behind, and pulled. Her lungs emptied as she bore the pain. She had John on his knees. Without removing her blade from his shoulder, she moved around him and met his gaze. He smiled.

"Do it. We both know you were dreaming about this time."

"Who cares about a stupid illusion?" John opened his mouth.

"Haha." A short, sharp sound.

"Hahaha." Faster this time.

"An illusion." She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out her sickle, and ran the spine of her blade along his throat in one move. John's body fell limp, face first at her foot. She turned around, and ran, her grip on the sickle slackened. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulder, and a veil off her mind at the same time. Pain and exhaustion weren't gone, but she felt stronger than ever. The path kept going. She ran faster. How far could this damned Perub reach?

She ran until the fight was a hundred meters behind her, then two hundred, then more. The Perub's roots were long gone. The illusion was gone. It was done. Then why was the path still there? She slowed down. It was the same packed earth she'd seen since her first day in this world. The same path that linked Lanterne to Esmera. She stopped. Hands trembling, she summoned her journal, and flipped it open. You are suffering from the curse of edgefade. You are suffering from the curse of anosmia.

Combat Sense 5 -> 6 Sickle Mastery 8 -> 9 Life Curse 3 -> 4 Running 4 -> 5 You've achieved a feat: Insurrection II Insurrection II: Slay a Silver rank while being at the Iron rank. +10 all stats. Her hands went stiff, and her book slipped through her fingers, landing on the ground before her. She didn't move. Her mouth opened slightly. It wasn't that she hadn't put enough power into Dark Bolt. It wasn't struggling against a Bronze beast. Dark Bolt was struggling against a Silver rank human. John.

He wasn't an illusion.