Adam’s palm brushed against what he assumed was the solid chest of the middle-aged man.

He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second and spoke the spell “Dispel” under his breath, expecting the dark magic controlling Brand’s servants to break apart.

But instead of the expected resistance, his hand passed straight through the man’s body, as if he were nothing more than a ghost drifting in midair.

For a long moment, Adam stood frozen, his eyes widening in stark realization.

“An illusion!” he thought, his heart pounding in disbelief. The shock of his failure to feel flesh made him step back quickly.

The chill in the air, heavy with the scent of damp wood and distant smoke, seemed to emphasize his error.

He wiped his hand on his tunic, the fabric damp with his rising sweat, and turned his gaze sharply toward Brand.

Brand stood just a short distance away, his posture relaxed and his head tilted slightly as he observed Adam’s struggle with a quiet, amused smirk.

His eyes, green and glimmering with mischief, betrayed his satisfaction. “So, you are not as infallible as you thought, are you?” Brand taunted softly, his voice carrying over the hushed murmurs of the villagers who still gathered uncertainly below.

Adam clenched his jaw, his mind racing with anger and determination.

He would not allow Brand’s trickery to shake him. With a swift movement that spoke of practiced precision, he drew in a deep breath and cast the spell once more, this time enunciating clearly in English: “Dispel Illusion!”

The effect was immediate and dramatic. The world around him seemed to tremble and shudder.

The very fabric of reality cracked like fragile glass under an unseen force, and shimmering fragments of the illusion began to break away.

Adam watched in awe as the false images shattered before his eyes, the distorted, unreal world dissolving into motes of light that scattered into the darkening sky.

When the fragments faded and the air cleared, Adam saw the truth. The middle-aged man was no longer in the position he had been before—he was already mid-air, having leaped backward in an instinctive effort to create distance.

His powerful arms hung at his sides, tense and ready for the next move, as if he were poised to launch an attack at any moment.

On either side of this old warrior, two younger companions had also taken positions. Both had quickly moved to support their leader, positioning themselves in battle-ready stances.

The air around them crackled with an electric tension as if charged by the magic that had just been shattered.

They launched themselves into the air with coordinated precision, their determined expressions hidden behind the blank masks of those still under Brand’s control moments ago.

Seeing this, Adam braced himself. He planted both feet firmly on the ground, feeling the rough texture of the dirt and broken wood beneath him.

Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared for his next move.

Adam pushed off the ground and leaped into the air to meet his airborne opponents. For a fleeting second, the world seemed to slow as he soared upward, his eyes locked on the figures that charged toward him.

But as he reached the midpoint of his jump, something strange happened. The young fighters who had been leading the attack suddenly vanished from his view, leaving an eerie void in their place.

His heart pounded louder in his chest, and confusion mixed with fear. “Another illusion?” he wondered aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper. The possibility that Brand was still manipulating reality hung over him like a dark cloud.

Before he could fully react to the disappearing figures, a sharp, searing pain exploded in his abdomen.

A brutal force struck his stomach, and he felt as if he had been hit by a sledgehammer.

His breath caught in his throat as agony surged through his body like a tidal wave.

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The force disrupted his airborne momentum completely; he tumbled backward, flipping over twice as he spiraled out of control.

Time seemed to stretch in those moments as dust and dirt scattered around him.

Finally, he crashed onto the hard ground with a resounding thud that echoed off the nearby trees. For several heartbeats, he lay there motionless, the taste of blood in his mouth and pain radiating from his injured abdomen.

Slowly, as he regained his senses, Adam realized that this time the illusion had not shattered like glass—it had dissolved, melting away like mist in the morning sun.

Thick, swirling smoke drifted around him, and as it cleared, reality began to reassert itself.

And in that newly revealed reality, Adam saw the truth with painful clarity. Standing before him was the nineteen-year-old fighter who had attacked him.

The young man’s expression was blank, his eyes glowing an unnatural green that now seemed devoid of any emotion or life.

A fresh wave of pain coursed through Adam’s body as warm blood seeped from the wound, darkening his clothes. His mind raced with a mix of shock and indignation.

“No…” he thought, his fingers twitching in anger. The pain was sharp, but it was the betrayal of his own senses that stung more deeply.

Gritting his teeth, Adam forced himself to stand. His breath came in ragged gasps as he felt the ache of his injury, yet his body moved with stubborn resilience.

He could not afford to falter now—not when so much was at stake. His eyes, determined despite the pain, shifted downward to the knife embedded in his stomach.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he gripped the handle tightly, his muscles straining as he yanked the knife out in one swift, controlled motion.

Blood splattered onto the ground, mixing with the dirt and creating a stark contrast against the faded light of dusk.

Before the searing pain could fully take hold, Adam muttered a single word—a word that carried the promise of restoration: “Heal.”

A soft, gentle glow began to emanate from his wound. It spread quickly, as if time itself were reversing, knitting the torn flesh back together with miraculous speed.

In mere moments, the injury was completely gone, leaving behind only a faint, lingering ache that reminded him of its existence.

He took a shaky breath, steadying himself. His eyes hardened as he looked up, scanning the battlefield and the shifting surroundings with a wary gaze.

From a short distance away, Brand had been watching every move. His smirk, once confident and mocking, had now faded as his amusement turned into a mix of curiosity and subtle concern.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, and a low chuckle escaped him. “Incredible…” he muttered under his breath, as if in disbelief at what he had witnessed.

Brand extended his hand forward, preparing to cast another spell to regain control of the situation.

His voice, once steady and taunting, now held an undercurrent of uncertainty as he began his incantation.

But before he could complete the spell, something unexpected happened. Adam, instead of bracing for another assault or immediately countering, simply closed his eyes.

For a moment, Brand’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “What’s he doing now?” he thought aloud, his tone betraying a rare hint of uncertainty.

Yet, dismissing the thought quickly, Brand pressed on with his plan. With a confident wave of his hand, he began to weave another spell.

As he chanted, the world around Adam started to shift once more.

The colors of the sky, the outlines of the trees, and even the ground beneath them began to distort, twisting into shapes that defied the normal order of reality.

It was as if the entire scene were being repainted by an unseen hand, forming yet another illusion that sought to trap Adam in a fabricated reality.

Within seconds, Adam found himself surrounded by a brand-new world of deception. The air shimmered with distorted hues, and shapes flickered at the edges of his vision.

But this time, Adam was ready. With his eyes still tightly shut, he ignored the deceptive visuals forming around him.

His focus turned inward, every sense straining to discern the truth amid the shifting mirage.

A sudden rush of movement shattered the silence. The old warrior, who had earlier leaped away, now charged toward Adam once again.

Behind him, the other two fighters—Brand’s younger servants—sprinted forward, their weapons gleaming in the distorted light as they readied themselves for another strike.

The old man raised his heavy iron staff high above his head. Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared to bring the weapon down upon Adam with a force that promised to crush anything in its path.

The weight of the staff was evident even from a distance, and the sheer power behind the swing made it clear that if it connected, it would cause devastating damage.

Brand, watching from his lofty position, seemed to lean forward with eagerness. “This time, you won’t dodge,” he sneered, his voice thick with derision. His eyes glinted with malicious anticipation as he expected Adam to falter under the assault.

But then, in a flash of movement that defied the chaos, Adam shifted to the side at the very last moment.

The iron staff, aimed directly at him, missed its mark by a hair’s breadth.

Instead of striking him, it sailed past, leaving behind only a rush of displaced air.

Seizing the opportunity, Adam raised his leg in a fluid, precise motion and delivered a powerful kick straight to the old warrior’s chest.

The impact was brutal—a sharp, explosive force that sent the old man hurtling backward. His body, caught unprepared for the sudden deflection, collided with his two companions.

The three fighters tumbled together in a tangled heap, rolling across the ground with a series of harsh impacts. The sound of metal and flesh meeting the earth mingled with the cries of exertion and pain.

Brand’s expression, which had once been a mask of confident amusement, twisted in surprise as he took in the unexpected turn of events.

“He avoided it… without even seeing it?” Brand muttered, his tone a mix of disbelief and reluctant admiration.

His smirk returned, albeit now tinged with genuine intrigue as he observed Adam’s every move.

Even as Adam landed on the ground, his body still recovering from the impact of the kick, he knew that the battle was far from over.