There was a rumor that surrounded Eren Astelion, the Star-Drowned Mage.
It was said that when the sun set in the farthest reaches of the sky and darkness rolled over the heavens, he would be unstoppable.
None had ever seen the man fight under the stars—or at least none who would come forward to testify; however, some assumed that he was linked to the reports of twinkling supernovae that appeared far beyond the atmosphere on several occasions.
The man had a subcontract with the God of Illusions, a low-level deity without a mass religious following in the Dimension of Waves.
Through the medium of his soul, they had forged a connection rarely made between a human and a god.
With the powers of a Marshal at his side, that man now stepped into the freshly repaired arena, his eyes glistening with an illusory hue as he watched the woman in front of him.
It had taken a total of five hours to fix the arena after Aaron Grimstall's fight, but in the end, the combined efforts of Cauron Thorn and Alex Lispentine brought the stage back to a usable state, allowing them to proceed with the matches as scheduled.
Thus, the second battle of the day was ready to start, and this time, it was a part of the Marshal bracket.
Tavira Lunestra, the Silent-Shoal Marshal who was known to have never lost a one-on-one duel in her twenty-year career, stood against Eren Astelion in the stadium.
The purple-haired man straightened his posture, waiting for the booming explosion that would signal the start of the match.
The dark-skinned woman across from him unsheathed her twin blades that were attached to thick strands of metallic thread coiled at her waist.
Her fierce eyes resembled those of a lioness, her bloodlust leaking out in oppressive waves that silenced the audience.
Looking straight ahead, at her opponent, a thought crossed her mind.
The so-called Lord of Falsehoods…
Tightening the grip on her weapon, she braced herself, listening intently for the sound of the firework that would mark the beginning of the fight.
BOOM!
Light exploded in the sky, and her feet launched across the rebuilt arena floor with the power of a charging beast, squeezing out any last remnants of water from the still squishy surface.
She ejected her first blade from its sheath, and the sound of the coil unwrapping and cutting through the humid air echoed throughout the stadium.
The projectile weapon slashed against the pale man's cheek, his starry eyes shooting over in surprise as he ducked, slamming his hands into the sand below him.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a magician's cane appeared in his palm, his fingers wrapping around it in a tight grip as he swung it.
Twisting her wrist to pull back her wire, Tavira dodged the severing strike that would've snapped it in two, successfully recovering her weapon.
Exhaling quickly, she bolted around the man at incredible speed, the world blurring and his figure becoming clearer.
Clenching her fist, she prepared to fire the weapon again; however, her eyes caught on a particular pattern the man had begun to draw in the air.
『Illusory Web』
His body vanished, turning into colorful dust that floated within the air like pollen, glimmering in all hues of magenta and blue.
The woman instantly stopped, scanning her surroundings in high alert before launching one of her swords at the dispersing particles.
Unfortunately for her, the dust scattered like fog, reappearing in various places around the arena as if to taunt her.
High above, the evening sky was gradually consumed by darkness as the glistening stars shifted their positions to align with Eren Astelion's will.
Where is he?
Standing in the center of the stadium, she turned her head left and right as she slowly spun in a circle, watching and waiting for anything that would give her a clue to his location.
However, there was nothing, only absolute silence that radiated through the strange void that she was now trapped within.
The crowd, her opponent, and even the humidity in the air had vanished, leaving her completely isolated from everything else.
"Tehehe"
Child-like laughter rolled throughout the dreamlike world, the woman's attention instantly drawn to the sound.
However, trying to locate its source felt like looking for a needle in a haystack, the voice coming out like an echo from all directions, confusing her senses.
Where is it coming from?
The noise volume increased, the infernal giggles making the woman unusually rageful, a strange reaction for the Silent-Shoal Marshal, who was known for her coolheaded, introverted personality.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, resisting the illusions that covered her mind in a thick fog.
This isn't real. He's trapped me within one of his spells.
Biting her lower lip, she held out her arms, blades hanging loosely from their threads as the childish laughter boomed like cannonfire all around her.
Crossing her arms, she clenched her teeth tightly, a bead of sweat coming down her forehead as she prepared for a strike.
Click!
The weapons shot out from her hands at their fullest of speeds, their perfectly sharpened blades colliding with the illusory arena walls that outlined the false world.
The moment the weapons pierced the walls, she dug her feet into the floor and pulled with all her strength, the world around her fusing and warping into a chaotic whirl of irregular shapes.
KRKRKKRKR!
A sound like breaking glass rang through the illusion, drowning out the unknown child's laughter that now turned into something closer to screams.
CRACK!
The barrier shattered, the evening sunlight blessing her vision again as she witnessed the magician's cane approaching her chest with a decisive momentum, aiming for her lung.
Shooting her right hand forward and grabbing Eren's hand, she savored his surprised expression before sending a kick straight through his inner thigh.
Falling backwards in pain, he barely caught himself with his staff, a wall of rock appearing in front of him to interrupt her assault.
However, that did not dissuade the dark-skinned woman, who retracted both her blades that were stuck in the arena's sides.
Aiming at the wall that rose before her, she fired her right blade first, piercing straight through the rock as if it didn't exist.
For, as something made by the master of illusions, that wall truly didn't exist at all—it was merely a mental tactic to trick the opponent into giving up at direct attacks.
Feeling her blade strike something, she noticed a trail of blood appearing in random intervals around the arena, the man's speed not enough to mask his wound.
Found you.
Shooting out a projectile in front and behind the man, giving him nowhere to run, she struck his figure, the starry man looking at her in horror.
Yet only a second later, his figure dissolved, as what she struck was simply an afterimage that he had constructed to hide his real body.
NO!
Attempting to whip her wrist around the slash the area behind her, she was a step too late, the warm feeling of her flesh ripping and the base of his cane tearing through her left upper back, making her spit out blood.
Before she could follow through with her half-started strike, he had vanished again, his body reappearing in front of the woman who clutched her new wound, where the cane had pierced straight through.
Crimson blood dripped down her black armor, her hand not able to prevent the spurting fluid from escaping her body.
"Hrkk…"
She coughed up a fragment of her own lung before throwing it away, her opponent still ahead of her—somehow even in worse shape than herself.
His entire right ribcage was exposed, the ghastly scene making several spectators faint and others vomit.
Not only that, but his skin still clutched to the remaining bone and muscles, the sight of his lung breathing slowly, in and out, graced her vision.
She winced as she heard his voice come out in a wheeze, a determined expression across his face.
"This isn't an illusion as much as I wish it was…"
He spoke faintly, his complexion extremely pale, and his words shaky.
"However, this isn't enough to get me down."
Then, he phased away, faster than she could impale him with her weapon, and a moment later, several afterimages appeared in a spiral around her.
Turning her head to keep up with the multi-directional attack, she sharpened her peripheral vision to track and deflect them all.
Unknown to her, this was exactly what the Star-Drowned Marshal was aiming for, constantly moving the illusions around the edge of her vision to thin out her focus.
Therefore, as she slashed her swords in a crescent formation across the afterimages, she missed the most crucial attack of all.
Standing right in front of her, with only half a meter between their bodies, Eren Astelion stabbed his cane into her chest, severing her consciousness and making her collapse into his arms.
Slowly, he pushed his cane down into the sand from which he had pulled it, the tool vanishing like a dream.
Then, as he lowered the woman to the ground softly, he gave the medics a smile, his eyes flashing a midnight black, then returning to their crystal radiance.
Eight healers made their way to his side, placing their hands on his wound to heal him; however, to their surprise, they felt nothing but a light cut, the horrific wound twisting and closing right before their eyes.
"Hehe…"
He muttered out a laugh while staring at the doctors who circled him in absolute confusion.
One of them, a woman in her early twenties, grazed her gloved hand over the small cut before placing a wrap around it.
"Lord Astelion… Was that wound real, or was it not? How are you, alright?"
Her face was laced with concern, yet all the pale man did was chuckle lightly, his consciousness fading quickly.
"A magician never reveals his secrets."
Then, closing his eyes, he let his strained mind drift into the darkness, the healers left aloof as they studied his almost perfectly healthy form.
"Turn him over!"
A senior shouted out to the girl who spoke to the Marshal and was now trying to lift the man, a familiar warmth covering her hand.
"Huh?"
Listening to her elder's instructions, she gently turned the Marshal on his side, a shriek coming from her mouth right after.
While the wound on his side was a falsehood meant to deceive the woman he fought, it was an indisputable fact that he had still been hit somewhere.
His blood coated the arena, something he couldn't easily fake even with his illusions.
After turning the man over, they finally realized how he had fooled the thousands in the audience.
"H-he didn't hide his wound… He transferred it…"
Streaked across his back were long stripes of ripped flesh that stuck upward into the sky like grated cheese.
Dried blood oozed from them as it mixed with the soil, creating an ugly clump of crimson that consolidated beneath the man.
The wounds were so deep, in fact, that his spine and parts of his ribcage were visible, the severity of the wounds taking a high toll on him.
And as they picked him up and carted him off, the announcer could be heard in the distance, faintly, calling out for the next match to begin—one that would finalize the first round of the Marshal bracket.