Damien steadied himself, closing his eyes briefly to focus. He knew he couldn’t keep playing Cassian’s game. Instead, he began to attune himself to the subtle shifts in the arena—the faint ripple of air when Cassian moved, the almost imperceptible sound of his blade cutting through the darkness.

Cassian attacked again, his blade arcing toward Damien from the left. This time, Damien anticipated the strike, raising his sword to meet it with precision. Sparks flew as their blades collided, and for a brief moment, Cassian’s form was fully visible.

Damien didn’t hesitate. He pressed the attack, forcing Cassian to retreat. His strikes were swift and relentless, each one designed to disrupt Cassian’s rhythm. Cassian parried and dodged, but Damien could see the subtle shifts in his stance, the faint signs of exertion.

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“You’re learning,” Cassian said, a hint of approval in his tone. “But let’s see how you handle this.”

With a wave of his hand, the shadows in the arena intensified, coalescing into figures identical to Cassian. Each clone moved independently, their dark blades gleaming with malevolent energy.

Damien’s eyes darted between them, his grip on Ebonfang tightening. He knew the clones were an illusion, but they moved and attacked as if they were real. The first came at him from the front, its blade striking toward his chest. Damien parried, but another clone attacked from the side, forcing him to pivot and block.

The battle became a chaotic blur. Damien deflected strike after strike, his blade a flurry of motion as he fought off the shadowy figures. Each clash drained his stamina, but he refused to give ground. He focused on finding the real Cassian, watching for the slightest difference in the clones’ movements.