Under the shattered dome of flame and dust, Solène gritted her teeth and pushed herself to her feet, one hand clutching her abdomen. The impact still echoed through her bones. Her dragon-clawed fingers dug into her ribs as she coughed and snarled under her breath.

"Damned old man…"

She growled, narrowing her eyes, gazing at the still figure ahead. The machine stood motionless, red coat unruffled, hands calmly at his sides, watching her with an expressionless face. The insignia on his chest — a gear wrapped around a humanoid skull with a mechanical eye — gleamed faintly through the smoke.

Solène spat onto the ground. This was bad. Incredibly bad. That thing had shrugged off her best opening assault against another user, and worse, she could feel it. A truth pressing into her spine. Her dragonfire, her lava, her blood-fused energy… it wasn't enough to even dent it. Her claws clenched tighter.

Without a word, she surged forward, fire wrapping around her limbs as her other hand transformed into a second dragon claw. The air rippled with heat as she rocketed toward the enemy, her entire body igniting like a living meteor. Both claws extended, she brought them together in a spiraling, serrated lunge straight at the machine.

Mecha Sung Ja-In raised both arms and caught her assault head-on… Their hands clashed, claw to palm, metal to scale. Solène pressed forward, teeth bared in fury, her muscles straining as she tried to overpower him. But it didn't move. Not even an inch. Its limbs didn't even shudder, and her face twisted in disbelief.

"What kind of abomination are you!?"

She screamed.

"I'm an A-rank potential user, for f*ck's sake!"

The machine replied without delay.

"Your frustration is irrational. Explanation: My power source derives from a key S-rank entity of a prior scenario cleared by my creator."

The woman's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What?!"

She narrowly twisted her neck away as a rising kick came for her jaw, the strike so fast and brutal it split the air with a thunderclap. Even without direct contact, the sheer pressure carved a sharp line of pain across her cheek, drawing blood. Solène spun in mid-air, her body flipping with explosive force as she bit back a curse and retaliated without pause.

Her back ignited with a violent surge of dragonfire. From that inferno, a massive, snarling head of a dragon burst forth, connected to her spine by a burning tether of living flame. The beast's fangs stretched open, glowing with molten heat, its roar silent but full of murderous intent as it surged toward Mecha Sung Ja-In.

But the robot didn't flinch. Instead, he caught both jaws mid-bite with his bare hands, his feet digging into the earth as the two forces clashed.

The pressure was immense. The draconic head pushed downward, gouts of molten fire dripping from its maw, but the robot didn't yield. His arms held steady, unmoving, despite the beast's tremors. It was clear to anyone watching — even this weaponized summon was not enough.

Then, a glow began to pulse inside the mouth. Dayana's voice rang in the distance, out in alarm.

"It's charging something—!"

Mecha Sung Ja-In lifted his gaze at the last moment as a torrent of flame burst out of the dragon's throat, engulfing him in a column of annihilation. The flames flooded the square, licking up the walls, surging into the air like a volcano had just detonated.

Dayana and André shielded themselves instinctively, the girl crying out as the shockwave reached them. But within the eye of the firestorm, Solène stood untouched, the flames dancing around her, wrapping her like a blanket. Her burns faded. The inferno welcomed her, healing her. But then, through the wall of fire, a voice spoke.

"Analysis complete. Skill recognized. [Dragon Queen's Call]. No significant threat detected."

Before she could react, the draconic head's maw snapped shut. Or rather, it was forced shut — the machine's hands gripping both jaws and wrenching them together with sudden violence. A thunderous boom cracked through the plaza as the summoned construct was slammed into the stone with such force that the dragon's head shattered. Fire scattered like broken glass.

Solène stared in disbelief, her breath caught in her throat as the smoke began to clear. The scorched ground hissed beneath the lingering heat, but at the center of the destruction, Mecha Sung Ja-In stood tall and motionless. Not a single scratch marked his frame. His arms hung steady, wisps of steam rising from his fingers, the remnants of the dragonfire fading into nothing.

Before she could fully grasp what she was seeing, the machine moved. A blur of red and silver lunged forward—no pause, no warning. His fist came for her face like a missile… But the impact never came.

"Absolute Mandala!"

In an instant, a radiant shield formed between Solène and the incoming strike. The barrier shimmered with intricate mandala patterns, each one glowing with sacred geometry, absorbing the impact of the fist that had been aimed directly at her skull. The energy rippled outward, steady and solid, as Mecha Sung Ja-In's blow was halted just short of its mark.

Solène blinked in shock, her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze shot skyward just in time to see Meera descending gracefully from the air, her figure poised, calm, and sharp. She landed beside her leader without hesitation, her arms outstretched as two massive chakrams of spinning light and metal materialized in her hands. The air around her buzzed with the intensity of her arrival.

"Solène! Are you alright?"

Meera's voice was firm, but there was concern beneath it. Still catching her breath, the redhead nodded and forced herself upright, brushing dust from her side and gritting her teeth. Her garra de dragón clenched tightly, trembling faintly.

"Y-yeah!"

She muttered, her voice hoarse.

"Just… just a bruise to my pride."

Her eyes narrowed as she stared again at the figure standing in front of them. It hadn't moved. Not even a step. Solène scowled.

"This doesn't make any damn sense. How the hell did I fall for something so basic? A body switch? A decoy? Damn it, I didn't even notice… and now we're both stuck here with this mechanical freak."

Meera didn't move, and her expression didn't shift. The chakrams rotated silently in her grip.

"Don't worry, the others will wrap up their fights soon. Once they're done, they'll come here. It won't take long. After all, everything else is going exactly as planned."

Solène took a deep breath. Her shoulders rose, then fell. Slowly, she nodded.

"Yeah. You're right. We just take this piece of junk apart, and we're good. Let's not drag it out."

Meera gave a small smile and answered.

"Exactly. Everything is going… according to plan."

Solène didn't see it—the flicker in her comrade's eyes. The slight shadow behind her voice. The smile that curved Meera's lips held a weight not spoken aloud, a calm that did not reflect the fire burning in her thoughts. There was a pause in the air, a silence filled only by the mechanical hum of the warrior standing before them, waiting for the next clash.

Under Celestia Sanctum's cloudy sky, within one of the outer plazas, Konrad Weiss stood calmly, his fingers coiled around the gnarled wooden shaft of a scepter that looked more like a cursed root than a weapon. An orb of deep void shimmered faintly at its top, throbbing with foul energy.

At his feet, the shadow spread wide like a living entity, pulsing with dark rhythm. The moment Emir and Chloe stopped moving, the shadow bloomed beneath them. Its texture wasn't like natural darkness—it was fluid, like tar infused with curses, and it clung to the cobblestones as if trying to pull everything into its depths.

"Don't bother running."

Konrad said with a sigh, his tone as if he were scolding a child.

"This miasma is cursed. Every inch of it. The very air here would turn your soul brittle if you stayed too long."

From the depths of the black pool, figures began to rise. One by one, skeletal knights emerged. They wore rusted black armor dripping with smoke, and their eyes glowed red within hollow sockets. Their swords, twisted and blackened, exhaled a faint vapor of malice. Chloe took a single step back, visibly tense. Emir stood frozen.

"Their armor is forged from binding rituals. Their blades carry every malediction I've ever collected. You, little boy... You won't absorb anything here, or you'll only suffer more."

Konrad said, his voice patient, almost bored. He raised the scepter slightly, and the soldiers roared without voices. A hollow command passed through the miasma, and the cursed knights charged. Weapons raised, the air around them twisted with hostile magic. Chloe and Emir didn't move.

Then something strange happened… The knights slowed. And one by one, they stopped as they neared the kid. Some trembled. Others simply froze mid-charge, swords still raised but motionless. Konrad's eyes narrowed. He gestured with the scepter again, this time with more force.

"Go! Attack them!"

He ordered, but the army did not move. The black energy roiled beneath their feet, still alive and vicious, but the soldiers remained rooted. Their heads slowly turned—confused, hesitant.

"What trick is this? You're standing in my territory. This shadow belongs to me."

Konrad muttered, frowning. At that moment, a thick spire of miasma erupted beneath Emir's feet. Chloe jumped back to higher ground without a word. Emir remained where he stood, consumed momentarily by the rising darkness. The necromancer exhaled deeply.

"This might be too much for a child... but don't worry. Once I extract what I need from you, I'll end your life quickly. You won't suffer too much."

He lifted his scepter, black tendrils writhing around it, ready to finish the job. However, the miasma torrent split apart violently, scattered like smoke by an unseen wind.

A small hand had swiped through it with a casual motion. Konrad took a step back, visibly shocked.

"What...?"

The boy stood there, unharmed. His expression was calm, completely unaffected by the darkness that had been intended to cripple him. Something was wrong. Something was out of place.

"I don't know what this place is."

Emir said softly, lifting his gaze.

"But I've never felt better."

Konrad's lips parted slightly. That made no sense. Then, a system alert flashed in front of Emir. A small line of text, glowing bright.

[Skill [Chameleon Skin] has worn off!]

A second notification followed from Chloe's direction. Her figure shimmered where she stood on higher ground, a faint distortion rippling around her.

The false layers began to fall away. Skin peeled like paint. Clothing faded. The outlines of their bodies were reshaped.

Where Emir had stood, now stood Adam, and where Chloe had hidden, now stood Angela with an unsettling yet happy smile.

Konrad's eyes went wide.

"What?!"

Angela raised a hand, her posture firm, a smirk forming on her lips. Adam remained completely still, absorbing the energy in the air, letting the aura of the cursed domain wrap around his limbs like armor.

"You know, I've never felt this comfortable in a battlefield."

Adam said, his voice steady. Konrad's mouth moved, but no words came.

The boy stepped forward, the shadow beneath him pulsing with new intensity. Then he lifted one hand and made a single gesture—sharp and deliberate.

The cursed knights turned. Their skeletal faces rotated in perfect unison, no longer gazing at Adam. Instead, they looked behind him, toward Konrad. Slowly, every one of them raised their weapons.

Their loyalty had shifted. The domain no longer answered its master, and Konrad Weiss, still gripping his staff of shadows, took an unconscious step back. His curse-infused army had betrayed him in the silence of a single signal.

Adam's voice came once more.

"Your domain belongs to me now."

The battle between Katya and Tenzing pushed ever closer to the sacred grounds of Celestia Sanctum's cathedral. The air shimmered with divine pressure, the cobbled stones below their feet humming faintly with consecrated energy. Yet despite their proximity to the city's heart, the clash between the two was anything but divine. It was raw, relentless, and entirely grounded in technique.

Tenzing moved with a rhythm that mirrored breath itself. His body flowed from one movement to the next with no wasted motion—every strike was measured, every stance purposeful. His fists struck like hammers, and his feet cut through the air like blades. He was a monk forged by repetition, his foundation immovable. Yet no matter how many strikes he launched, Katya remained untouched.

She danced backward through alleys and courtyards, her black uniform fluttering behind her. Every time a palm came for her chest or a kick swept toward her side, her body leaned, twisted, or ducked just enough to let the blow pass harmlessly. It wasn't luck, she simply moved as if she'd already seen it coming.

A palm strike aimed at her diaphragm missed by a breath. A spinning elbow meant to catch her neck met only the air beside her jaw. When Tenzing tried to sweep her legs, she hopped over the attack and landed light as a feather, the ground barely reacting to her presence. It was enough to cause a momentary twitch in his brow. The only visible sign that he acknowledged her skill at all.

But it didn't last.

He snapped into a low stance and shifted again, this time feinting a low jab, and when Katya moved to her left to avoid it, a sharp upward kick followed. This one landed—or it should have. The blonde reacted at the last possible second. Both of her hands flew forward in a tight spiral, catching the attack and redirecting its energy along a circular path. The force that would have snapped her jaw was absorbed and redirected around her body, dispersing into the air.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The two took distance. Tenzing's arms lowered slowly. His face, as always, remained calm, but his brow furrowed slightly deeper now.

"I didn't expect you to have proper martial training."

He said, voice neutral but edged.

"But it doesn't matter. You're still an amateur."

He breathed in… That single breath silenced the world.

The background noise of the city faded away. Katya blinked in confusion. It was as if her ears had been covered. Only one sound remained, and that was the movement of the monk.

Tenzing shifted his feet and fell into a posture that drew pressure from the earth. His legs widened, knees bent like stone columns, fists pulled tightly at his waist as he exhaled. Katya felt the air begin to spiral around him, like a growing storm centered in the stillness of his stance.

She responded, calling forth her weapon. A flicker of energy rippled across her arms as her scythe appeared in her grip, its edge pulsing with ethereal menace. But before she could adjust her stance, Tenzing's eyes closed with disappointment.

"A Tulpa is a mental construct, powerful in the hands of a strong mind, but fragile in the hands of the unstable. You are neither stable nor mentally trained. Worse, you use a projection created from knowledge you never earned. Against someone with absolute clarity, like me, it is meaningless."

He said calmly before he vanished… No dust. No sound.

A thunderous crack followed, and the air itself seemed to break. A flash of cloth and muscle crossed the space, and his fist was already in motion before it was visible. A strike that moved faster than sound. A blow meant to end the battle instantly.

But it missed. Pain bloomed on his forearm as he stopped moving and looked down.

A thin, precise cut traced a crimson line across his arm. Not deep, but undeniable. It shouldn't have been possible.

He turned his head slightly, just to see that behind him stood Katya—or what remained of her. Her figure shimmered, flaked, and cracked. Like drying paint peeling away from glass.

A system message appeared in midair, pulsing brightly.

[Skill [Chameleon Skin] has worn off!]

In the next second, the illusion broke entirely.

The girl was gone, and in her place stood a man with sharp eyes and a formal, clean attire. A single long sword forged entirely of Ki pulsed in his hand. His blond hair was swept back, and a golden aura shimmered across his skin… Drake smiled slightly.

"So, Shaolin techniques, huh?"

He said, rotating the sword once in his grip.

"It's nostalgic."

Tenzing looked at the cut on his arm again, then lowered it. His expression didn't change.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

He asked, voice as quiet as before.

Inside the Mausoleum of Heroes, the laughter of distorted specters echoed through the stone halls. Li and Adam ran down the central corridor, ducking and weaving past the swarms of ghostly wolves that hurled themselves at them. Each beast was a twisted, cartoonish mockery of real predators—wide, exaggerated grins, grotesquely bouncing eyes, and limbs that bent unnaturally. Their barking was not animalistic, but hysterical, like a chorus of mad jesters. Their transparent bodies phased through columns and walls, snapping at ankles and heels, snarling with glee.

Behind the chaos, Ernst von Adler followed at a casual pace. His coat fluttered behind him, his hands in his pockets, and a wide grin stretched across his face as he watched the young duo struggle.

"Come on now, boy."

He said to Adam with a chuckle, his voice echoing behind them.

"Where are your ghosts? Aren't you the necromancer prodigy or something? Summon something already! My pack's getting hungry. They feed on spirits, you know—I can't wait to see them tear through yours."

They didn't stop to answer. Adam and Li darted through the enormous arched threshold that led to the Grand Crypt of the Empire, a chamber said to house the tombs of the greatest human paladins. The light dimmed further as they descended, shadows stretching long behind them as they slid between crumbling pillars and rows of ancient sarcophagi. The wolves gave chase, bounding with reckless energy, their claws scratching across the polished stone floor.

Ernst laughed louder.

"You're running? Into a crypt of all places? Are you hoping to find reinforcements? Maybe awaken a few heroic corpses to help you fight me? Or is it that you think tighter corridors give you an edge? Idiots. I told you—my wolves aren't ghosts, but they might as well be. Confined space only makes it easier for them to corner you."

The two continued running through the narrowing corridors, jumping over broken altars and ducking beneath half-shattered archways. Finally, after nearly a full minute of retreat, they stopped at the center of a circular chamber deep beneath the mausoleum. It was cold, silent, and lit only by faint blue braziers mounted on the walls.

Ernst arrived just moments later, still grinning as he stepped past the threshold with no rush in his stride. Behind him, a dozen ghost-wolves flooded in, encircling the chamber like a river of white flame and laughter.

"You've reached the end of the line."

Ernst said, spreading his arms.

"So what now? A final heroic stand?"

His words hung in the air for a beat, then a growl echoed through the stone. From one of the nearby columns, a wolf phased straight out of the rock itself. Its mouth opened wide, a ridiculously large jaw stretching farther than anatomically possible. In a flash, it lunged forward and clamped its jaws over Adam. There was no scream, no resistance. The creature swallowed him whole in a single exaggerated gulp, then landed on its paws and licked its lips in satisfaction.

Li stumbled back in shock. His eyes flicked between the spot where Adam had stood and the monstrous wolf now panting happily. Ernst only laughed again, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Pathetic, that was honestly disappointing—"

He muttered... However, the wolf's eyes bulged.

It let out a strangled whine and began to shake violently. Steam poured from its mouth. Sweat—comically rendered in giant droplets—formed across its brows. Then, without warning, its entire body began to collapse inward, sucked into a spiral of darkness that erupted from its stomach. The howl it released sounded almost cartoonishly exaggerated—before the body was consumed entirely, leaving nothing but a puddle of drool and shadow on the floor.

In the center of the mess stood Adam. His clothes and skin melted off him in flakes of paint-like residue, revealing the small figure beneath.

"Ha! It worked!"

"Adam" shouted, still covered in thick saliva, and as the last remnants of the disguise fell away, the system messages appeared in glowing red before them.

[Skill [Chameleon Skin] has worn off!]

Ernst's smile vanished.

In place of Adam stood Emir, short, firm, his expression locked in an unreadable satisfaction. And beside him, Li's features had also begun to peel away. The tall, cold spellcaster dissolved into a towering figure clad in ceremonial Roman armor—Thabo Mthembu, his skin dark, his frame broad, and his eyes locked onto Ernst with measured intensity.

The laughter died instantly. The wolves stopped moving. A wave of pressure rolled through the crypt. Ernst's breathing slowed. He stared at Emir with wide eyes that were no longer amused. Then his body tensed, and the veins on his neck bulged. His shoulders cracked as his posture began to shift.

"You!"

He growled, his voice now guttural.

"What did you do to him!?"

Hair sprouted across his arms. His spine curved unnaturally, and his fingers twisted into claws. His muscles swelled beneath his clothes, tearing through fabric and snapping seams. His teeth sharpened and elongated into fangs.

"Where is he?! What have you done?!"

His growl became a roar. The wolves began to snarl in unison, the air heavy with the scent of bloodlust.

The situation was becoming increasingly unstable. Kazue, Angela, and Drake had engaged Lautaro with a direct assault, hoping to overwhelm him before his antics could escalate. Angela struck first, moving with sharp footwork and lashing out with fast, precise attacks. Kazue followed up a heartbeat later, using the reach of big mechanical gauntlets to try to trap or restrict his movements. Both of them kept their focus tight and expressions hard, pushing with all their physical force.

But none of their efforts connected. Their blows passed through Lautaro as if he were made of mist. His body floated lazily just out of reach, posture relaxed, a grin playing on his lips. Their strikes sliced only air, and the clown made no effort to retaliate. He floated, spun, and hummed a tune only he seemed to know, as if the battle didn't concern him at all.

Drake attempted to dash behind him with a wide arc, but his attack also failed to find any purchase. His foot slipped slightly on the stone ground as his sword passed harmlessly through Lautaro's waist. The clown-like boy tilted his head and finally let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Alright, alright."

He said, stretching both arms as if waking from a nap.

"You've had your fun. Now it's my turn."

With a casual snap of his fingers, everything changed. Kazue, Angela, and Drake felt their bodies lift from the ground against their will. Their arms and legs twisted awkwardly in mid-air, rendered motionless by a force that did not indicate where it originated. They floated like dolls, suspended several meters above the ground, completely vulnerable.

Lautaro clapped gleefully, kicking back in the air as if resting on an invisible chair.

"Look at this!"

He laughed, spinning Drake upside down with a finger gesture.

"You guys move so funny when you don't have control. Hey, Blondie, why do you keep grabbing your waistband when I flip you? You got a skirt under that suit or what?"

Drake yelped, spinning end over end, his hands flying to his waist out of sheer reflex. His face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and terror, drawing more laughter from the clown.

Angela and Kazue floated motionless, still refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Their expressions remained cold, their eyes locked on Lautaro with unshaken resolve. But Drake was not faring as well. He flailed at first, then curled inward, trying to reduce how much of his body was exposed to Lautaro's strange power.

"Geez, the girls are tough."

Lautaro said, pointing a finger at them while still focusing on Drake.

"But you, mystery guy, you're either an NPC or someone really bad at this. I mean, come on. Did they not give you any backbone in the lobby?"

He twirled his fingers again, making Drake spin like a top.

"Look at you! Dizzy yet? Don't throw up in mid-air, you'll ruin the view!"

Angela suddenly moved. While still floating, she reached into her coat and drew out her paintbrush. Her movement was precise and fluid, and the brush shimmered faintly with a different kind of energy. Lautaro noticed and grinned.

"Oh ho! What now? Going to paint me a mural? Maybe summon a little monster to nibble my ankles?"

He mocked. Angela didn't respond. She simply flicked her wrist and hurled the brush directly at the guy's face. He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers again. The brush froze mid-air, suspended inches from his nose.

"Really? This is your big move? Toss a stick at the performer and hope for the best?"

Lautaro said, tilting his head to the side. He was still smiling when the air around the brush began to shimmer.

The floating paintbrush twisted slowly, and then the shimmering turned into hard edges. Lautaro's eyes narrowed as the brush began to pulse faintly. Before he could react again, a transparent cube of glowing energy snapped into existence around it. The clown floated backward on instinct, alarm flashing in his expression, narrowly avoiding the weird jail.

"Woah, what the hell is that?"

He muttered, watching the sealed cube as it vibrated. But it was too late.

The brush—erasing the glowing prison it had created—suddenly shot forward. Lautaro tried to phase through it again as he didn't have the time to snap his fingers, but this time, the object collided directly with his face. The impact knocked him out of the sky, sending him crashing into the ground with a solid thud.

The moment the blow landed, the levitation holding Kazue, Angela, and Drake vanished. They dropped back to the ground, each landing with a rough thud or staggered step. Angela regained her footing instantly. Kazue rolled with the momentum and came up ready. Drake hit the ground on his side, groaning and trying to shake the dizziness from his head.

Lautaro groaned as he sat up slowly, his nose bleeding slightly. He looked stunned, blinking hard as if still trying to understand what had happened.

"What the hell…? What was that?"

The floating paintbrush began to disintegrate into glowing particles. In its place was a spherical object of dense, black energy, roughly the size of a soccer ball, hovering silently above the ground.

Lautaro's eyes locked onto it.

"What is that thing?!"

Then the illusion collapsed. The bodies of Kazue, Angela, and Drake began to flake apart, layer by layer, like old paint peeling off glass. As their disguises unraveled, a system message appeared before Lautaro's eyes, glowing with unmistakable clarity.

[Skill [Chameleon Skin] has worn off!]

Kazue's body dissolved to reveal Katya, her cold eyes and black uniform unmistakable. Angela's form shifted into Gregor, tall and solid, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward. And Drake unraveled to reveal Chloe, who was still recovering her breath.

Gregor looked down at the clown with calm intent, the shadows of his experience and power resting behind his eyes. He rolled his shoulder and stepped forward with casual purpose.

Lautaro's mouth opened to speak, but the soldier got there first.

"That's called bad karma."

He said simply.

Back in the industrial area, the layers of illusory painting had long since peeled away. The moment they had stepped into open confrontation, the false images of Gregor and Takeshi melted. What remained beneath were Kazue and Li, their real appearances now fully exposed to the battlefield.

However, the transformation hadn't helped their situation. The surprise had amounted to nothing. Whatever tactical edge the disguise might have granted was wasted, because the two of them, for all their individual power, were proving to be an absolute disaster as a team.

Kazue was running, trying to attack with her arms raised, mechanical gauntlets radiating volatile energy—one crackling with violent arcs of concentrated lightning, the other searing with molten heat. Her steps were aggressive, unyielding, and every muscle in her body was prepared to strike. Across from her, Li held his spellbook open with one hand, its pages glowing with intricate symbols.

"[Ganzu Metalo]"

Shouted the man. Behind him, massive iron spheres covered in vicious spikes emerged from thin air, hovering with ominous intent before rocketing forward like cannon fire. The wind howled with the force of the combined assault, and for a moment, the overwhelming sound and pressure gave the illusion that something was finally going right.

It didn't.

The spiked projectiles surged forward, aimed directly at the enemy pair with destructive precision. But Im Hae-rin and Reginald moved in perfect synchrony, their coordinated evasion swift and effortless. The spheres passed harmlessly through where they had stood an instant before.

The real danger, however, came from proximity—Kazue had already closed the distance to attack, and one of the projectiles tore through the air dangerously close to her. She twisted her body just in time, barely avoiding the iron spike. The explosive impact behind her rocked the ground, sending sparks and shards of stone outward. She stumbled, skidding to a halt, her glare sharp and furious as she turned toward Li. Smoke curled through the air, and the ground beneath her still vibrated from the near-miss.

"What the hell was that?! Are you blind?!"

Li didn't flinch, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his frustration.

"Maybe if you didn't charge like a brainless idiot, I wouldn't have to adjust mid-cast!"

"You almost hit me!"

"Don't you even know how to evade!?"

Before Kazue could fire back, a sharp kick slammed into her side, sending her tumbling to the floor. She rolled, groaning. Just as Li turned in alarm, a flash of movement blurred into his peripheral vision, and a cane cracked into the bridge of his nose with a loud crack. He stumbled back, blood already trickling.

On the other side of the field, Reginald Pembroke straightened his posture, twirling his cane with one hand as he adjusted his lapel with the other. His voice remained as polished as ever.

"Well then, that was unexpected… or perhaps not. I must say, even with the disguise lifted, the coordination is as abysmal as before. Quite the letdown."

Next to him, Im Hae-rin exhaled quietly, one hand on her hip, the other relaxed at her side.

"This is pathetic."

She muttered. Kazue pushed herself up, growling.

"Why don't you say that again to my face?"

Li shook his head, wiping blood from under his nose.

"Silence! You already did enough damage for both of us!"

"Oh, you want to start this again?"

"I'm not starting anything. I'm stating facts. You are horrible!"

"No, you're terrible! You nearly blew my ribs out!"

Reginald and Hae-rin exchanged glances. The two stood silently for a moment, watching the argument unfold. Then, with a heavy sigh and a flick of his cane, the gentleman raised his arm.

"I do believe this has become dreadfully boring."

A swirling sphere of wind gathered above his head, compressing tightly into a miniature storm. With a lazy underhanded throw, he sent it spinning forward.

"You two—please, do carry on your bickering. But at least do it from a respectable distance."

The wind sphere whirled through the air, roaring with tightly packed force. Kazue and Li turned toward it in horror, their argument dying in their throats. The girl was the first to react. She began to move forward and inhaled sharply, her lungs filling with pressure. Lightning crackled from her gauntlet as she prepared to unleash one of her new skills.

But before she could unleash the howl, Li raised his hand and muttered a single command.

"[Aagasu Winda]"

A protective dome of wind expanded around them, shielding the two from the incoming projectile. The storm sphere struck the barrier and detonated harmlessly outside it, but the abrupt expansion of the dome sent Kazue slamming face-first into its inner curve. Her skill [Storm Titan Howl], misfired from the pressure of the collision, erupted in a vortex of wind that bounced inside the dome, dragging both of them into a controlled chaos of their own making.

The inside of the dome turned into a blender of wind and limbs. Kazue screamed as her own attack threw her around like a ragdoll, and Li couldn't even form words as he was hurled against the inner curve. Finally, the dome dissolved, the air dispelling in a harmless breeze.

Kazue and Li collapsed onto the ground, coughing, their limbs twitching from the disorientation. Their faces were red from the anger, and their expressions drenched in humiliation. Neither could speak.

Reginald lowered his cane and shook his head slowly.

"This is no longer funny… It's just sad."

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