The sun hung high in a pale blue sky, softened by thin drifting clouds. The air was mild rather than hot, with a gentle breeze stirring the leaves and carrying the faint scent of grass. Light lingered comfortably, casting soft golden hues over the landscape.
In the sky, Lancelot, who was invisible, watched as Taiyor swung his sword, cutting down the four clones that had just attacked.
His eyes glowed faintly. Everything happened so fast that if he hadn't been paying close attention to the battlefield, he wouldn't have noticed how the clones faded into the air.
Stonecliff's narrow streets lay broken under flickering arcs of electricity. Fragments of stone still rolled from shattered walls. Smoke drifted lazily upward, illuminated now and then by dying sparks that crackled before fading into nothingness.
High above it all, Lancelot hovered in silence, his cloak fluttering gently, untouched by the chaos below.
Four clones fused with lightning attacked in perfect synchronization. They struck from the left, right, above, and behind but Taiyor easily countered them with a single swing of his blade.
Taiyor stood above the fallen clones, his sword humming softly in his grip. Wisps of electricity dissipated around his boots as the last fragments of clone essence dissolved.
Lancelot narrowed his eyes.
A weapon that controls the body… impressive.
It must be a support-type Feral Soul, he thought.
"Captain," Taiyor said calmly, rotating his wrist as the blade subtly changed shape, thinning along its edge.
"I know," Aisha replied.
She stood several steps behind him, one hand raised slightly to maintain the transparent heat barrier she had created.
Aisha lifted her gaze.
Above them, rooftops groaned, the air screamed, and lightning tore through the sky as the first true wave descended.
Thirty clones fell at once.
They dropped like spears, their bodies wrapped in roaring blue-white electricity. The ground shattered on impact as they landed across the streets, rooftops, and alleys surrounding the Nigerians, blocking every path out of the village.
Each clone accelerated instantly, lightning bursting beneath their feet as they closed in with terrifying speed.
Taiyor stepped out of the heat barrier protecting them.
His sword liquefied. Steel flowed like water, reshaping into a long curved blade as essence surged from his spirit core, flooding the weapon until it hummed violently.
Taiyor struck.
The blade cut through three clones in a single motion.
The clones collapsed into sparks that scorched the ground.
Another clone lunged.
Taiyor pivoted. The blade shortened mid-swing, transforming into a stabbing weapon that pierced straight through the clone's chest. Before the body could dissolve, Taiyor twisted his wrist.
The weapon reshaped again.
A blunt hammerhead formed at the hilt. Taiyor smashed downward. The clone detonated against the stone road.
Lancelot, who was watching the scene from the sky, twitched his fingers.
How is he predicting my clones' every move?
That realization sent a ripple through his thoughts.
Does he have a Feral Soul that can predict the future? No… that's not it.
He is simply becoming one with the blade, allowing the blade control every part of his body.
Or… he has a third eye.
A faint smile appeared on Lancelot's face.
More clones surged forward.
They came from below. The stone beneath the Nigerians cracked open as invisible clones erupted from the earth, their forms perfectly concealed until the moment of attack.
Taiyor reacted instantly.
His blade thinned into a wire-like edge, slicing backward without him even fully turning. Two invisible clones split apart mid-strike, their forms unraveling as lightning scattered into the ground.
A single clone manage slipped passed Taiyor and get to Yoma before it could strike, the air twisted. The clone's hand passed through her body.
"An illusion…" Lancelot frowned as he observed.
The real Yoma stood three steps to the left, her eyes glowing faintly as her spirit essence pulsed.
Reality around her fractured subtly, overlapping layers of false positions, false movements, and false intentions.
Lightning blades slashed through afterimages.
Clones collided with one another, mistaking allies for enemies. Others struck empty air, their attacks phasing through illusions that dissolved like mist.
High above, Lancelot's unease grew.
This is getting out of hand.
He prepared his newly created combination move.
Spirit Core Combination Move: Light and Dark Men.
The name reflected its nature.
The clones remained invisible, existing in darkness. The moment they attacked, they became visible, stepping into the light.
The sky lit up.
Dozens of aerial clones surged forward, electricity roaring as they accelerated. Wings of compressed wind and lightning carried them like bolts. At the same time, more invisible clones rose from the ground, while others clung silently to walls and ceilings.
Taiyor's sword split.
The weapon separated into multiple segmented blades connected by flowing spirit essence. Each segment moved independently, snapping and striking like a serpent.
Taiyor's blades lashed outward in all directions.
Flying clones were cut down mid-air, their bodies breaking apart in flashes of blue light. Grounded clones were severed at the joints as they attacked continuously.
But the numbers kept increasing.
One clone broke through the barrier.
It landed near the carriage.
Princess Emilia stirred, her eyelashes fluttering weakly.
"Lan… ce… lot…" Her voice was faint and fragile.
Aisha's eyes sharpened.
She killed the clone instantly then struck the princess.
A precise chop to the side of her neck.
Princess Emilia's vision blurred as she collapsed unconscious.
More clones surged forward.
Aisha raised her arms. Heat poured from the barrier. The nearby clones that slammed into it vaporized instantly, their lightning dispersing harmlessly.
She looked up, her gaze piercing the empty sky.
"Is the Knight of Britannia planning to hide forever?"
Lancelot ignored her.
More clones descended.
Their individual strength weakened, but their numbers made up for it. They charged relentlessly, sacrificing themselves without hesitation.
Taiyor's movements slowed.
His blade reshaped constantly spear, sword, axe, whip etc. Never staying the same for more than a heartbeat. Each form was perfectly suited for its moment.
But as time passed, pressure built.
Taiyor spirit core, which was filled with blade essence, was nearly empty.
Taiyor frowned.
"This battle of attrition… is not my style."
He stepped back into the barrier.
Yoma's illusions intensified.
Space bent. Targets multiplied. Angles shifted.
Entire streets appeared where none existed. Clones struck invisible walls. Others vanished into false paths.
Yoma's breathing slowed as sweat gathered on her forehead.
Aisha was also under pressure, her forehead covered in sweat.
"Mausa and Yoma create a path that leads to the mountain," she ordered.
Her spirit essence surged.
The heat barrier expanded violently, forcing clones back and crushing them into the ground.
High above, Lancelot stiffened.
The scene changed.
Blood splattered across the ground.
Screams echoed.
The carriage exploded.
Princess Emilia's body collapsed onto the stone road.
From above, Lancelot clenched his fist.
He descended cautiously.
The battlefield was silent.
Bodies lay scattered. Clones dissolved. The foreigners were motionless. The princess's body was split only her upper half remained.
Lancelot landed beside her.
Far below, hidden beneath layers of illusion, Mausa slammed both palms into the ground.
The earth softened.
A tunnel formed.
As the Nigerians escaped into it, the illusions vanished.
The battlefield became empty.
Only Lancelot remained.
"…They're gone… how did this happen…?"
"…Dammit… I fell for her illusion."
A rare expression of frustration crossed his face.
Dark clouds covered the sky as night descended.
In the ruined district, Lancelot hovered once more.
No enemies.
No carriage.
No princess.
His eyes narrowed.
He raised his hand slowly. Fragments of fallen clones drifted back toward him like mist, restoring his spirit essence.
Far below, inside the tunnel, the Nigerians ran.
The earth parted before them.
Taiyor walked at the front, his sword returned to a simple straight blade.
"He didn't follow," Mausa said quietly. "It seems the Knight of Britannia is still trapped in the illusion."
Aisha nodded silently.
Cracked stone streets glistened faintly where lightning had scorched the ground. Broken rooftops leaned at unnatural angles, shadows stretched long and distorted beneath the moonlight, and the air itself felt bruised, vibrating faintly with residual spirit essence.
At the center of it all stood Lancelot.
He hovered several feet above the ground, cloak unmoving despite the breeze that whispered through the ruined district. His eyes scanned the battlefield slowly, methodically, taking in every detail.
No enemies, no movement, only destruction and the lingering echo of conflict none of Lancelot clones remained but Lancelot still felt unease..
They should be here.
That was the first thought that crossed his mind.
The Nigerians had fought too well to simply vanish.
Lancelot extended his perception again.
"This...," Lancelot murmured.
He descended slowly, boots touching the fractured stone street without a sound.
Ahead of him lay the bodies of Taiyor, Aisha, Yoma and Mausa.
All sprawled across the ground in varying states of ruin.
The princess's carriage lay overturned nearby, its door torn open. Inside the torn carriage was princess Emilia.
Lancelot walked toward Taiyor's body first.
The man lay face-up, chest unmoving, sword shattered beside him. His green-and-white uniform was scorched, torn, soaked with blood.
Lancelot crouched beside him.
He reached out and pressed two fingers against Taiyor's neck and there was no pulse. He moved to Aisha next, her body lay half-kneeling, frozen in a position that suggested she had tried and failed to raise a final barrier. The ground around her was cracked in a circular pattern, heat distortion still faintly visible.
He straightened and turned to Yoma.
She lay on her side, eyes half-open, blood streaking from her temple. Her expression was peaceful almost serene.
Too serene.
Lancelot stopped walking, then he laughed softly.
"Well played," Lancelot said.
Lancelot replayed the battle through his clones' memories.
Minutes passed.
His expression darkened slightly.
"I need to be careful when dealing with these people…"
"…they are no joke."