Vexion stood before the seven noble combatants, her eyes filled with determination. Though each of them possessed Epic Tier skills, she could immediately tell that only three of them , the archdukes pose any real challenge. The rest were just rather annoying obstacles.
A sharp snap echoed in the air as she felt the mana stir where she stood. Without hesitation, Vexion moved, taking quick steps and activated her skill Phantom Dread. In an instant, a clone shimmered into existence behind her, mirroring her every move. In the blink of an eye, a swirling maelstrom of wind-fire erupted from the space where she had stood. The volatile mix raged like a tempest.
The archdukes, Ollie and Gaven, were adept in elemental skills. Ollie wielded two Epic Tier skills—Firestorm and Oxygen Deprivation—a lethal combination that, despite the vast gap between their levels, he had somehow managed to optimize through instinct and relentless practice.
Meanwhile, Gaven was a master of hit-and-run tactics, his signature skill Phantom Blitz granting him swift evasive maneuvers and brutal melee strikes. Whenever Vexion used Phantom Dread to elude an attack, Gaven would appear in a flash behind her , since her speed was quite lower then Gaven's causing her a headace when he used his high physical stats attribute to aid him and closing distances whenever he lost her and appeared at a nearby vantage, launching sudden melee assaults.
His disadvantage, however, was his inability to detect her precise movements, as much as he was faster it wasn't like he could detect where she would appear after she used her annoying ability—a shortcoming that meant he could only hope to exploit his physical advantage. And when Ollie ignited the ground beneath her with bursts of searing fire, it often left Vexion with a splintering headache.
Vexion muttered curses under her breath, frustrated at the skill level gap between herself and her adversaries. In response, she activated Dreadstep Distortion. As the skill took hold, her nearest enemy felt an inexplicable pull—as if invisible strings were drawing him toward her. In a meaningless bid to evade, he activated his own skill, suited only for long-range assaults. But as his attacks neared her, they warped, swerving like errant arrows caught in a vortex. Before long, he found himself drawn inexorably closer.
In a sudden, heart-stopping moment, a sword swung down at the spot where Vexion had just been. It cut through empty air, striking nothing but a fleeting mirage, or that's what should have happened.
Gaven, realizing in horror that his blade had not met his intended target but had instead connected with an ally—causing the unfortunate soul to lose his head—he erupted in curses against the ineptitude of his comrades. Frustration and chaos reigned as he scoured the battlefield in search of Vexion once more.
The battle had only just begun, yet a subtle shift had already taken place: both he and
Ollie had heard the young master's decree. Dante had spoken of a higher-tier skill at Vexion's disposal—a skill that would obliterate even the most formidable adversaries if unleashed. But as long as she refrained, they believed, they might find a momentary respite.
If she possessed a Legendary skill and chose not to use it, then now was the perfect opportunity to land a decisive blow. The dukes, strengthened by this possibility, believed that a single, well-placed strike might end her threat—though they doubted that such an act would please the young boy who watched their struggle while casually whistling from his perch atop the chandelier.
Meanwhile, the clamour of the weaklings—those who were far too feeble to matter— continued to disrupt the flow of battle. It was the third time Gaven had launched an assault, and by sheer luck, the other two weak opponents managed to dodge, granting him a moment to retract and adjust his sword mid strike, however, Vexion's tactics were truly annoying.
She would flee using her ability to create clones that mimicked her actions, appearing wherever she took a step, and something about them made them way to lifelike disorientating all their senses. When he got frustrated and decided to just attack a clone, she used another skill that would pull his nearby allies to the area she or her clone, he wasn't sure stood. And his blade would be about to end a comrade's life .
As he scanned the battlefield, his eyes fell upon half a dozen idiots whose skills couldn't even reach the Epic tier. Their ineptitude made them easy targets, yet it also complicated the fight by drawing unwanted attention. For every attack he launched, the weaklings became constant distractions.
On the other hand
Vexion's frustration, however simmered into a twisted excitement. She could feel the raw power of her Epic Tier skill growing with every passing second.
The System, confirmed that she was gaining 'Mastery Experience Points'—MEP, as Dante called them. From his seat on chandelier, Dante observed her with a mix of detached amusement and calculated interest. He noted, with precision how each clash and dodge added to her combat experience, refining her skill mastery.
Deep within her, a fierce gratitude for her master began to kindle anew. Vexion truly wanted to thank him, not with words, but with the fierce, unyielding passion that drove her every strike. She refused to unleash her Legendary skill now—if she did, she might win easily but at the cost of losing new insights into her Epic tier abilities.
It would also strip her of the raw, exhilarating control she was only beginning to master. Instead, she chose to harness the power of her Epic skill, reserving the Legendary skill for moments when her other skill would wane and lose out by level and battle experience. In her mind, her master's intentions were clear—he believed in the gradual forging of her strength, and she, in turn, believed in him with every fibre of her being.
Taking a moment to scan her opponents as she retreated with using Dreadstep, Vexion's eyes narrowed in careful calculation. She mentally catalogued each adversary, noting their strengths and predicting their next moves:
Ollie; His combination of fire and wind, capable of surrounding her in a maelstrom of burning flames and explosive heat, posed a serious threat—a mini explosion that could severely damage her if she lingered in its path.
Gaven: A master of hit-and-run tactics, his skills were perfectly suited for melee combat and rapid counterstrike's. He specialized in vanishing and reappearing in the blink of an eye, always ready to launch an ambush.
Wung: A formidable force who manipulated wind with precision. His control over a wide radius allowed him to knock opponents away, compressing the wind into powerful bursts that delivered heavy, concentrated damage.
Kuran: absorbed ambient mana, converting it into explosive lightblue to white bursts. However, his power came at a cost—he required a vast amount of energy to execute his devastating attacks.
The Others: The remaining combatants, she noted, were either already dead or wielded hypnotic and mind control skills. Their attempts to affect her proved futile, a testament to the fact that her mind had been reforged by her master's healing—strengthening her resistance against such feeble assaults. She resolved, silently, to ask him later: What is the limit of this resistance?
As she advanced, she could almost taste the raw essence of her own growth. Each Mastery Experience Point, each increment in her skill, was a silent thank-you to Dante— a tribute to the man whose overwhelming brutality and unfathomable control over chaos had ignited this inferno within her. In her heart, she believed that her master must be thinking exactly as she was: that every moment of combat, every drop of blood spilled on this cursed ground, was a lesson—a step toward something far greater.
Vexion embraced the chaos. She was not merely fighting to survive; she was fighting to prove herself, to honor the promise she had made to Dante. Vexion took a deep, steadying breath and unleashed her skill—a surge of heavy, despair-inducing and hesitation-sapping power that rippled across the battlefield. In an instant, the six noble combatants halted as if gripped by an unseen force. The air itself seemed to still, each of them frozen in a moment of terrified suspension. First to break free of the paralyzing aura were Ollie and Gaven, their training and inherent magical resilience allowing them to shake off the initial shock. Next came Wung, and finally Kuran, though by the time they all snapped back to a semblance of reality, one of the dukes was already in a state of abject agony—held from behind as a gleaming knife was forced down her throat, her muffled screams and choking gasps merging with the sound of her blood mixing with the ground. Vexion had used the slight moment when they were all in stunned motion to grap the knife of Kuran and chose to use the most painful and brutal means to kill her opponent . Gaining huge amount of permanent stat points.
Instantly, Gaven leaped forward with a burst of his signature agility; his body materialized in front of the unfortunate girl with a sword impaled in her mouth, blood spurting freely. He tried to launch an attack against Vexion, but she responded with a soft, almost mocking chuckle as her form suddenly turned transparent, another clone. Gaven's eyes widened in fury and disbelief. Infuriated, he wanted nothing more than to give chase, to hunt down this elusive foe. Yet uncertainty gnawed at him—his detection skills, honed to a high level yet insufficient to track her when she layered her power with that haunting, fear-inducing aura. Her skill, though similar in nature to his own, was mixed with an additional, paralyzing effect that rendered his instincts unreliable.
Vexion, aware of the mounting tension, understood that as the number of her opponents dwindled, their collective resolve would wane. She knew that the fear of facing her alone would override any remaining courage. Once she had dispatched the weaker foes, she used her skill to create multiple phantasmal replicas—mirages that walked when she walked , ran when she ran chuckeld mockingly , though no sound their visual resemblance to the original enough to cause confusion and mayhem as she glided effortlessly toward the fire-wind specialist, Ollie.
Ollie, quick on his feet, summoned a gust of wind to push back the noble who was being drawn toward Vexion, and immediately countered with a burst of manipulated fire to scorch the area where she had just stood and where he expected her to vanishe. True to his expectations, she disappeared, only to reappear near another of the weaklings who had managed to linger in the fray. Her skill once again took hold, pulling the hapless target into her proximity as she stood motionless, eyes glinting with cold amusement. The remaining nobles wished to assist, but they were hamstrung by their own limitations. Ollie and Kuran, whose abilities favored wide-area attacks, knew that any effort to intervene might inadvertently harm their own allies.
Gaven, burning with anger and irritation, longed to shout rebukes at her for her despicable "fighting style" , if her shameless use one skill to pull weaker targets towards her , flee and replace her figure with a clone mirroring her actions , flee again and kill when she saw an opportunity , her style wasn't in any way proper or even noble as they were used to , yet he could only seethe in silence. He recalled how the little boy atop the chandelier had watched the chaos unfold with a relaxed, almost indifferent air—as if the suffering of his own kind was merely part of the spectacle. Gaven's own participation in the enslavement of his people had not prepared him for this level of ruthlessness; despite their numerical advantage, their collective skill had become a crippling disadvantage.
Ollie attempted to use his wind skill to separate the noble being drawn toward Vexion, but the pull was unnatural, as if dictated not by mere gravity or wind but by an intrinsic power emanating from her very core. The force was irresistible, and the only recourse was to use his own skill to tug the noble back, even as he himself was carried aloft by swirling currents. He could not cry out to his comrades—he knew they were not foolish enough to ignore such subtle cues—but all he could do was hope his actions were understood as he soared through the air, striving to counterbalance the unnatural pull.
Meanwhile, Vexion's lips curled into a mischievous chuckle as she disabled her current skill. In a flash of dark energy, she vanished, leaving behind a carefully crafted mirage to absorb the incoming damage. She reappeared immediately behind Kuran, who was visibly drained, having expended a large portion of his energy to maintain his own assault. Just as she neared him, Gaven materialized right behind her and swung his sword with wild, ferocious veracity toward her head.
For a split second, it seemed as though Vexion had been caught—her mirage skill faltered, and she clenched her hands in frustrated despair. In that critical moment, she smirked, a wild laugh bubbling from her lips. Activating her skill once more, she released that same fear-inducing aura, a pulse of dread that granted her an extra millisecond. In that infinitesimal span, her form was replaced once again with a mirage—a phantom echo of her true self. Gaven, still reeling from his momentary lapse of focus, swung his sword, only to find his attack colliding with Kuran instead of his intended target.
Desperation mounted. Gaven tried hard to redirect his swing, to alter its path, but the timing was too precise for him to salvage. Fortunately, Wung, ever vigilant, caught on and summoned a powerful gust of wind to shove Gaven away, forcing his blade to miss its mark. His sword merely grazed Kuran's neck—Kuran, already trembling under the oppressive influence of Vexion's aura, hesitated, and a sharp sting shot down his neck as he dodged frantically.
In the ensuing confusion, the battle took a darker, more grotesque turn. Amid the chaos, a loud, gut-wrenching shout pierced the air. The nobles discovered, with mounting horror, that one of the weaklings—whom Wung was meant to protect—had lost an arm and a leg. All eyes fell on the wounded woman, who now clutched a severed arm in one hand and a leg in the other. The stunned murmurs that followed were unanimous: "Why did she not kill him outright? Does she enjoy torturing her enemies as well?"
A twisted, blissful smile spread across Vexion's face as the scream of the dying noble echoed in the distance. With a flourish, she casually tossed the ruined limbs to Kuran, who only turned slightly, his shock evident. As despair seeped into the ranks of her opponents, it was as though the very air vibrated with the sublime cruelty of her technique. Each activation of her skill was perfectly timed, seamlessly transitioning into another.
They simply didn't know how to fight such a shameless oponent
Dante, watching from his lofty perch on the chandelier, scratched his ear with a bemused chuckle. His eyes glinted with cold satisfaction as he observed the battlefield.