A woman in crimson robes shot toward him, her fists glowing with primal energy, her presence heavier than the rest—a cultivator, high-level, her speed outpacing the others.
She swung her strike a blaze of raw power. Kael tilted his body just enough for the blow to graze past his temple, the air hissing with its force.
He didn't react, didn't flinch. Stepping into her blind spot, he let Abyssal Fang whisper through the air in a small, deliberate arc.
Her arm dropped, severed at the elbow, and she spun to counter—but Kael was already behind her. A single strike to her core, and she vanished into the mist, her energy dissipating like a fading ember.
Kael's eyes widened, a realization dawning. "They're not real…" These were no mere enemies—they were memories, illusions woven from the battles of his past.
Some bore the faces of constructs from earlier trials, others the scars of mercenaries and guards from Vel'tar Fortress, their features blurred by the fog but achingly familiar.
