Ra'garoth halted, his fiery eyes narrowing as he scanned the field. He sensed something off. The hulking monsters surrounding him didn’t move to attack. Not a single claw raised, no fangs bared. Realizing something, his lips twisted into a snarl.

"Wait… why aren’t they attacking?" His voice rumbled. His gaze darted around, analyzing the creatures. "No," he murmured, realization dawning. "I’m mistaken. They cannot attack me… because they don’t exist, do they?"

His voice climbed, filled with dark amusement. "These monsters… they’re all illusions!"

Ra'garoth’s aura exploded outward, a violent wave of heat and pressure that rippled through the valley. The ground beneath him cracked as he stomped with enough force to shake the earth. A growl escaped his lips as he slashed his claws through the air, releasing beams of dark energy that cut across the hills like scythes. One by one, the glowing magic circles fractured and shattered, their light fizzling out into nothingness.

As the final circle crumbled, the monstrous army disintegrated like smoke in the wind. The valley was empty once more, silent except for the demon’s triumphant laughter.

"I was right!" Ra'garoth bellowed. "They’re illusions! All of them!" His laughter rang out.

Lyssa’s hands trembled, beads of sweat dripping down her face. Her chest tightened with fear as the demon's voice cut through the silence. Making illusions was all she had. It was the only trick she knew. And now, it had failed.

Ra'garoth turned his blazing gaze toward her, his lips curling into a smirk. Slowly, he began to stride forward, his towering figure blotting out the stars above. "What now, little summoner?" he mocked. "Do you still have hope left to cling to?"

Lyssa’s heart raced as she summoned every ounce of courage she could muster. She thrust her hand skyward, calling forth another spell. A magic circle appeared above her, glowing ominously. From it, a colossal serpent materialized, its scales shimmering with an eerie light as it lunged toward the demon with its gaping maw.

Ra'garoth didn’t flinch. With a single wave of his hand, the serpent shattered into shards of light, dissolving into nothingness. He let out a derisive chuckle. "Useless!" he roared. "I don’t know what you were planning, but you’ll never defeat me with illusions."

Lyssa stumbled back, her breaths shallow and panicked. Her mind raced for another strategy, but nothing came. Her power felt insignificant before the demon’s overwhelming might.

As she faltered, a shadow streaked past her. A massive wolf, its fur bristling and its glowing eyes locked onto Ra'garoth, charged forward with incredible speed.

Ra'garoth laughed again, shaking his head. "You still don’t understand, mortal. Even if I didn’t destroy it, an illusion can never harm—"

His words stopped mid-sentence. The wolf’s claws tore through his chest. A fiery glow spread from the wound as Ra'garoth staggered back.

"This… this is not an illusion?" he choked out, his voice wavering. His molten eyes flicked to Lyssa, seeking an answer.

The wolf’s claws twisted, and Ra'garoth’s body began to disintegrate. His form crumbled into ash, scattering in the wind. As his remains fell to the earth, a single object clattered to the ground—a magic artifact, a book bound in blackened leather and etched with glowing runes.

Lyssa stared at the book, her breath catching in her throat. She had won, but her hands still trembled. This victory, like the ash in the air, felt unreal.

The wolf growled softly, then turned toward Lyssa. Its body shimmered with silvery light before it began to shift and transform. Fur receded, bones cracked, and limbs reshaped until, standing tall before her, was a man. His wild, untamed hair cascaded past his shoulders, and his piercing golden eyes locked onto hers. A sharp grin spread across his face as he crossed his arms casually.

"Yo, master," he said.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Lyssa blinked, her legs wobbling beneath her. "Who… who are you?" she asked.

The man chuckled, his grin widening. "You didn’t think your family would sit back and let you fail at the demon-slaying ritual, did you? I’m here to assist you."

Lyssa’s eyes widened in shock. "My family… sent you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded confidently. "Yeah. By the way, you’ve done a fantastic job, master. If it weren’t for your illusion, that demon wouldn’t have let his guard down. Smart thinking." He gave her a thumbs-up.

Lyssa blinked rapidly, her cheeks growing warm. Her heart thumped against her chest, a strange mix of emotions swirling within her—relief, pride, maybe even something more. She couldn’t quite place the feeling, but it felt… good. Clearing her throat, she steadied herself and asked, "What’s your name?"

The man straightened and gave a small bow, his grin never fading. "My name is Thalric from the Silverfang clan. At your service, master."

---

Saria Kaelthara resided in a grand mansion perched on the outskirts of the quiet town. The vast hall within was dimly lit by flickering candelabras, casting long shadows over the stone walls. She reclined in her ornate throne, a smirk playing on her lips as she watched the spectacle before her.

A blonde-haired girl clad in a pristine priestess uniform, her battle axe gleaming under the candlelight, stepped forward. The demon Saria had summoned—a hulking beast with crimson skin and jagged horns—roared in defiance, but its end was swift. With one clean stroke, the girl brought her axe down, severing its head. The demon's body crumbled to ash, leaving behind a faintly glowing dagger.

Saria's smile widened. This was the ally she had chosen to aid her in the deathmatch. She leaned forward slightly, her ruby-red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

The girl wiped the blood off her axe. She then walked to the pile of ash, retrieving the magic dagger left behind, and approached the throne. “I present this magic artifact to you, Lady Saria,” she said, handing the dagger to Saria.

Saria accepted the weapon with a nod, studying the girl before her. Her true identity was Aveline Stormrend, daughter of Duke Garrick Stormrend and the Saintess of the Heralds of the Skyfather. Aveline was no ordinary priestess; she was a force to be reckoned with, one of the most formidable individuals she could find under level 20.

Saria believed that other candidates likely worked alone. She was different from them. Collaborating was the key to success. Thus, Saria had sought out a partner to aid her. After all, there were no rules against alliances, provided their strength remained within the bounds of the deathmatch’s restrictions.

Saria glanced at the ash-strewn ground and back at Aveline. With the Saintess by her side, her victory felt inevitable.

Aveline broke the silence. “Don’t forget our agreement, Saria.”

Saria chuckled softly, twirling the dagger in her hand. “Naturally. I’ll help your faction sneak spies into our cult. That was the wish of the Heralds, wasn’t it?”

Aveline shook her head slightly. “That’s the Heralds’ wish, not mine. I have a different goal.”

Saria raised an eyebrow but then laughed knowingly. “Of course, how could I forget? You wish to guide the cult’s members onto the right path. Truly noble of you, Aveline. Rest assured, our goals are aligned. I also seek to reform the cult, to bring it out of the shadows and onto the surface world. Together, we’ll achieve what neither of us could alone.”

Suddenly, Saria and Aveline shivered as a chill ran down their spines. An aura, oppressive and sharp, swept through the air like a cold wind. Both of them froze for a moment, their senses heightened. The source was unmistakable—it emanated from the heart of the town.

Saria’s breath caught as recognition struck her. This aura signature wasn’t unfamiliar; she had felt it once before. It belonged to none other than Eryndor, the enigmatic candidate whose presence had always felt like a looming shadow.

She turned to Aveline. "Stay here. I need to see what’s going on." Without waiting for a response, Saria stepped outside, her eyes scanning the town streets as she moved toward the source of the disturbance.

---

Kaelion drove his blade into the demon’s back, the weapon piercing through with a clean motion. The creature let out a cry before its form crumbled into ash, scattering into the air like a fading shadow. Left behind was a spear, its dark metal gleaming ominously. Kaelion picked it up, turning to Valen, who stood near the window, watching the scene unfold.

Kaelion approached and extended the spear to Valen. "Here," he said.

Valen took the weapon, his grip firm. "I’m sorry that you had to take down my own demon too."

Kaelion bowed his head slightly. "It’s fine. I naturally have to serve you with all my soul after what you’ve done for my family."

Valen nodded, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. "After this deathmatch is over, I promise that your family will be bathed in glory for as long as I live."

Kaelion allowed a small smile to surface. "Then that means you’ll have to bathe yourself in the grandest glory, Master. For me, you are family."

Valen was caught off guard but chuckled suddenly. "Thank you," he said.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but both of them froze as a surge of overwhelming energy washed over them. The air around them grew heavy, tinged with a foreboding power.

Valen’s expression darkened. "This aura… it’s Eryndor’s," he said.

Kaelion straightened, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his dagger. "I’ll check what’s going on," he said.

Valen nodded, his eyes hardening. "I will go after you."