...,,,
The supersonic boom from Kurael's devastating punch had barely finished echoing through the white bone coliseum .
Where Shiunoko had been standing , was now a brilliant constellation of fractures spreading outward across her figure.
The cracks were webbed and luminous, resembling the surface of a frozen lake that had just taken the weight of a dropped boulder.
For a fraction of a second, the glowing fractures held her exact shape, outlining a pale torso and the precise angle of her crossed arms braced for impact.
Then her figure shattered and collapsed as she vanished .
Shards of what looked like pale, translucent glass scattered outward in a wide arc, catching the shifting phosphene-light from the Eigengrau sky above before dissolving into pure nothingness before they could touch the stage floor.
Kurael slowly lowered his fist. He looked at the empty pocket of air where the shards had gone, his expression completely unreadable.
High above, the coliseum crowd, consisting of all five hundred thousand identical golden human faces, went briefly and collectively silent.
"My... you're quite the gentleman." Her voice drifted from somewhere across the stage, entirely composed.
Kurael turned smoothly on his heel to face the origin of the sound. Shiunoko was standing a considerable distance away, casually holding both of her heavy iron folding fans. She tilted her head slightly, making her rectangular red-and-white talismans sway against her pale cheeks.
The serene smile on her face carried a distinct quality of mild amusement.
Kurael straightened his posture, his dark eyes narrowing. The faint, irritating warmth that had crept into his face during the introductions had not entirely left the flesh. He chose to ignore it entirely.
"A mirror substitute, huh." he said, his tone flat.
"Perhaps it was , perhaps wasn't," she replied pleasantly.
If he had struck a mirror substitute, it would indeed explain the complete lack of physical resistance a normal body held.
The moment she broke like glass was a tell he had filed away a half-second too late. Real flesh did not shatter into luminous fragments, nor did real bone dissolve before it hit the ground.
He had struck something intricately constructed from either her inate techniques or her soul-bound artifact, mistaking it for the real thing because the duplicate had moved with her exact grace and carried her exact presence.
Which meant her faded, elusive presence applied to her reflections as well. He could not distinguish the original from the copies by tracking her battle style alone.
It is either a perfect copy of herself or a mirror displacement, Kurael summarized the theory silently in his thoughts.
'But how can I be certain which is which? I am no oracle, nor do I possess a basic appraisal skill.' He lampooned the situation inwardly before a sudden realization struck him.
'Wait. An oracle, appraisal... It is so obvious.'
He catalogued the flaw in his approach.
During the entire opening exchange, he had been operating almost entirely on sight . He had tracked her movements visually, anticipated her attacks visually, and reacted only to what his eyes saw .
When the reflection had broken like glass, he had known it only because he could see the shards.
He had been fighting an opponent with only one sense when he had immediate access to several. This was a glaring gap, not within his innate authority ,tho, but somewhere much lower down in his basic combat foundations.
The crowd erupted into a fresh wave of cheers as Shiunoko took three quiet steps to her left. As she moved, the air around her body warped strangely.
It distorted like the surface of a still pond disturbed from several directions at once, and from those spatial ripples, multiple figures emerged.
Precisely three of them.
Each duplicate possessed the same white robe, the same dark silk fringe across the forehead, and the same polished iron fans held at the exact same predatory angle. They all carried that identical faded presence, that alternating quality of being vivid one moment and almost forgotten the next, flickering through each form in a perfect rhythm.
Four identical Shiunokos now stood on the bone stage, spaced at even intervals around Kurael.
Kurael turned slowly in place, casting a cold eye on each one in sequence. He could not distinguish the real body from the illusions with his vision alone.
Atleast not anymore, anyways.
"Let us proceed," the one directly in front of him said. All four of them spoke simultaneously, utilizing the same voice at the exact same volume.
Kurael exhaled slowly through his nose, a faint white mist trailing from his lips. The temperature of the white bone coliseum plummeted by several degrees, turning bitterly cold.
'Alright...' He had four targets with identical presences, identical battle styles, and identical acoustic profiles. All he needed now was a completely different layer of information.
Closing his eyes, he let the darkness take his sight just as a flurry of omnidirectional attacks followed sequentially.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
The roaring noise of the five hundred thousand spectators dropped away from the front of his attention. The light behind his eyelids vanished. In that dense darkness, he focused entirely on what he had been failing to truly feel since the battle began, which was the constant, low-level pull of the surrounding Ryoku as it migrated across the stage, through the arena air, and through the bodies of the spectators above. He felt the macro-distortion of space saturated by the influence of an ancient and enormous entity.
He had been using his 'Authority of Convergence' strictly as a physical hammer throughout the fight, compressing his own density, accelerating his descent, and loading his fists with momentum.
He had been treating it as a weapon for combat alone , rather than a utility for information .
One of the absolute fundamentals of advanced Auramancy was creativity in the application of one's own core abilities.
Why wouldn't he use convergence to filter out distractions within the environment?
As he expanded the passive pull of his authority, he noticed something ,rather, intriguing.
One of the four presences on the stage was subtly pulling at the ambient field around her , nudging the surrounding Ryoku slightly closer to her vessel.
It was an incredibly minute action, not entirely dramatic enough to trigger alarm, but it was still there. The copies merely displaced the air; the original actively nudged the surrounding ryoku.
Kurael snapped his eyes open and locked his gaze onto the figure to his left.
...,
The clones dashed toward him in perfect unison. Kurael plunged into the fray, dodging, blocking, and evading a relentless cascade of omnidirectional iron blades. The metal ribs moved like silver wings, drawing a fine network of crimson lines across his skin as he navigated the dazzling storm.
Finding a brief opening, Kurael caught one of the approaching figures with a swift low sweep, bringing his boot down hard to crush its head against the floor.
The duplicate exploded with a sharp bang, producing a sound remarkably like a heavy stone shattering a thick sheet of glass.
The remaining figures did not falter; instead, they immediately empowered their own movements. It was as if each copy possessed a sliver of independent sentience, reacting to the loss of their companion. They began attacking in distinct, unpredictable patterns, tho their fundamental martial style remained perfectly mirrored.
Kurael ignored the distractions, keeping his focus entirely on the single figure that was subtly distorting the ambient space around her.
One step forward, he raised his forearm to block a lethal high kick coming from one of the graceful duplicates.
Two steps forward, he countered a secondary strike with a brutal, heavy kick of his own, the impact ringing out like iron on stone.
Rumble.
Suddenly, a massive wave of debris and a violent tremor originated from the opposite side of the stage, shaking the bone tiles beneath their feet and sending a massive, billowing cloud of dust across the arena floor.
Ryo's duel had clearly escalated.
Kurael smirked inwardly, drawing immediate inspiration from the chaos on the other side of the battlefield.
With his third step, he utilized his authority to converge not just raw Ryoku, but mass and an immense volume of momentum directly into his right leg. He slammed his heel down into the stage floor with tyrannical force.
The kinetic impact was powerful enough to completely shatter the travertine bone surface of the arena.
The ground buckled and tore apart, launching all the combatants into the air along with thousands of jagged, floating rocks and massive boulders. Shattered monoliths of stone broke away from the earth, levitating into the air like broken teeth .
Perched precariously on the ridge of the largest floating boulder, Kurael braced himself in a low, white-knuckled crouch, his eyes narrowed as he stared directly through the rising dust at Shiunoko.
Standing directly upon his broad shoulders for a split second before the spatial divide took them was one of Ryo's indifferent clones, its conical hat tilted low as its ring of paper talismans spun in a frantic, defensive blur .
To the left, the pale, translucent female warrior plummeted headfirst through the chaos in a controlled, elegant dive. Her straight-cut dark hair streamed upward toward the Eigengrau sky while her fingers tightly gripped her folding fans, ready to unfurl them into a deadly arc aiming directly for Kurael's throat.
Opposite her, the towering, single-eyed form of Malakor Vael-Oryn drifted upward on his own isolated block of stone, his lone eye wide and unblinking before Ryo's main body vanished alongside him, continuing their private slaughterhouse on the far side of the ruined stadium.
Kurael kept his eyes on the real Shiunoko, who was suspended a few paces away.
Crossing the void between them in two powerful strides, he lunged from boulder to floating boulder.
He reached out with blinding speed, targeting her wrist. Physical contact would tell him immediately whether he had caught the true flesh or another surface void of substance.
His fingers clamped down on her wrist. He felt the unmistakable texture of firm skin and the faint, natural warmth of a living body.
Instantly, the three other maidens hovering in the air began to flicker violently, fading in and out of existence before dissolving into mist.
Shiunoko looked down at his iron grip on her wrist, then slowly raised her eyes to meet his face. Something within her serene expression finally changed.
The deep composure did remain intact, but beneath the surface layer lay a clear flash of surprise.
"Surprised?" Kurael asked, a slightly smug expression tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"The clones do not distort the ambient Ryoku around them the way your true vessel does."
"Of course," he said after a brief pause, his expression forming smug face . "That is something only 'I' could have noticed."
"...,"
"Color me mildly impressed ," she said with a deadpan expression
She held his gaze for a long beat, assessing the opponent before her.
Then, without any warning or shift in her shoulders, she rotated her wrist inside his grip with fluid, impossible precision. The moment she twisted the joint, webbed cracks appeared around her skin, spreading instantly throughout her entire body like a breaking porcelain vase. Her figure shattered into a thousand luminous pieces.
From a boulder a short distance away, her true form materialized, looking back at him over her shoulder. Kurael released his hold on the fading shards of the copy.
She turned fully to face him, and with a sharp flick of her wrist, her iron fan snapped open with a resonant metallic ring.
"Let us continue."
"Sure," Kurael replied, dropping back into a loose, dangerous stance.
Above them, from the luxury heights of the Pulvinar, an enormous, deafening cascade of delight descended from the half-million identical faces of her father.
...,,,
A few moments prior, on the left hemisphere of the ruined stage, the atmosphere had mutated into something deeply toxic.
Ryo Itsukizu stood perfectly still, his wide sleeves hanging loosely as his narrow eyes locked onto the heavily bound figure of Malakor Vael-Oryn at the center of the monolithic chain array.
The platinum alloy links held fast, groaning under the tension, but the massive vanguard's mocking chuckle had completely faded.
What replaced it was an oppressive, heavy silence, a silence that Ryo found far more hazardous than the bravado had been.
The vanguard's single central eye had not been looking at Ryo for the past several seconds. It was staring inward, focusing on a deeper reservoir of power.
Ryo did not advance ,however. He maintained his distance, his remaining clones continuing their low, rhythmic mumbling of the binding incantations from atop their respective stone spires.
The air around Malakor's pinned frame began to warp and boil. From within the heavy coil of platinum chains, directly above the vanguard's ridge-crested head, an illusory shape slowly coalesced into physical reality.
The outer frame of the manifesting object was composed of polished obsidian, forming a sharp horizontal curve that flared outward at both ends into elegant, needle-like points, perfectly mimicking the silhouette of a stylized, monstrous eye.
Its smooth surface caught the chaotic phosphene-light from the sky eye, reflecting a cold, metallic sheen. At the exact center of the stone frame, isolated by a deep, dark recess, sat a perfectly spherical object that resembled a massive glass eyeball.
The iris within the glass was a flawless, unblinking circle. Hovering just beyond the upper right tip of the obsidian frame, suspended in absolute stillness, was a single, perfect droplet of liquid silver.
The moment the soul-bound artifact fully materialized, the pressure around Malakor Vael-Oryn underwent an absolute, terrifying transformation.
Ryo felt the weight of the pressure register in the soles of his boots first, then as a crushing sensation in the center of his chest.
Rumble.
The platinum alloy chains began to groan loudly, the links vibrating under an immense, unseen load. Malakor slowly raised his head, his single pupil narrowing as he locked his gaze onto Ryo.
"What a vile creature you are," Malakor said, his deep, crackled voice dripping with profound dejection.
"Now I see it clearly, it just confirmed my suspicions about what type of creature you are,"
Ryo remained silent, utterly unbothered by whatever rhetoric the zealot was spouting.
"What you are, underneath that skin you wear..." Malakor continued,
his physical stature beginning to burgeon and expand, his muscles swelling beneath his ribbed armor.
"...is nothing more than a vile mass of corruption."
"You have hidden it quite well," the vanguard growled, the chains around his torso groaning increasingly louder and faster.
"Far better than most corrupted abominations I have encountered . If not all of them."
The central iris of the floating obsidian artifact began to pulse with an eerie, blinding crimson glow.
"I possess a particular, loathing for disgusting things with your likeness."
"Is that so," Ryo replied, his tone laced with his signature, frozen indifference.
The chains groaned a final time, and with a violent metal snap, one of the primary links binding Malakor's left arm cracked wide open.
Ryo was already moving, stepping backward in a measured, defensive arc while his hands folded deeply into his wide sleeves.
He attempted to analyze the Artefact rapidly. From what his experience could glean, the device acted as a tyrannical multiplier of the user's base constitution. The most immediate and obvious clue was the exponential surge in the vanguard's physical strength.
Another chain link cracked. Then two more broke in rapid succession. Malakor's massive right arm tore completely free from the stone spire's restraint.
In that exact moment, as the vanguard's single, crimson-tinted eye locked onto Ryo, the Auramancer saw something within that gaze that he had never anticipated.
The physical silhouette of Malakor Vael-Oryn seemed to blur, overlaying directly with the mental image of the one man Ryo considered his greatest, most absolute enemy.
The face that the vanguard's illusionary pressure was beginning to manifest was not that of a stranger.
It was a face Ryo knew intimately, a face etched into his soul with pure hatred, a face that had looked down at him with that exact same serene indifference it showed everything else in creation, because to that entity, Ryo and everything he had painstakingly built was merely dust to be swept away.
'The King of Bestowment. The Evergiving Child.' The entity that had stripped everything from Ryo's life while wearing the casual expression of someone who was simply passing through.
The ancient, blessed adorer,was utilizing the vast perception of his artifact, and was actively reshaping the air into the image of Ryo's own worst psychological terror, projecting the face of the King onto his own form.
Ryo's hand froze entirely inside his wide sleeve. He stayed completely still for the duration of a single breath.
Then, he discarded all tactical caution entirely.
His remaining right eye burned with an unextinguishable, deep-rooted hatred and pure malice.
The cold, professional wanderer vanished, driven by seeded vengeance.
Seven premium, highly restricted paper talismans instantly materialized behind his back, turning from illusions into solid, glowing parchment.
They arranged themselves in a perfect, arching array behind his shoulders, forming a wide, floating halo .
Each individual talisman bore a single, unique, ancient runic symbol that hissed with lethal power, shimmering with an incandescent, blinding golden glow.
Snap.
The remaining chains snapped simultaneously with a deafening metal bang, the heavy links whipping wildly through the air as Malakor Vael-Oryn tore himself completely free from the spires.
The tension between the two combatants stretched razor-thin across the ruined, cracked stage.
From a low, wide cinematic perspective, the wandering warrior stood as an unyielding, dark barrier in the foreground, his back turned to the stadium's horizon as he faced down his colossal opponent.
A few paces ahead, the single-eyed creature sat perched in a menacing, low crouch, its massive eye locked onto its challenger like a predator waiting for the whistle.
Above the creature's head, the abstract, eye-like artifact floated in absolute stillness, its heavy stone brow casting a dark shadow over its glowing spherical center.
Neither moved, yet the very air between them vibrated with a silent, lethal intent that deformed the surrounding dust clouds.
Bracing his weight firmly onto his lead foot, Ryo twisted his torso, pulling his right arm back in a fluid, sweeping arc.
As he threw his hand out toward the flank, his floating halo of seven rectangular talismans snapped into immediate tactical motion, trailing behind his wrist like a fan of razor-sharp golden cards.
Caught in the sudden, violent momentum of his pivot, the zig-zagging paper charms dangling from the interior of his wide conical hat whipped sharply through the air.
Across the divide, the single-eyed entity remained completely unfazed by the sudden, terrifying display of golden force.
It maintained its eerie, compact posture, balancing its massive bulk effortlessly with one knee drawn tightly to its chest. Its long, segmented head crest gleamed under the , eye-like sky above as the phosphene clouds swirled in anticipation.
Round two was about to begin.