Lord Sazar raised an eyebrow, amused by his opponent's words. "The devil? My soul? Muhahaha, you talk big for such a tiny man."
Lord Canning's smirk faded, replaced by a cold, steely expression. "I suppose I'll have to shatter that ego of yours before I drag out your soul, won't I?"
Sazar's grin widened. "Do you even know who you're dealing with, you little—"
"You're Lord Sazar," Canning interrupted, his voice sharp as a blade. "A bandit who bought his way into nobility. I won't judge you for that—everyone has their reasons for chasing titles. But I will judge you for the lives you've destroyed, the people you've enslaved.
"You didn't just create orphans; you turned them into slaves as if stealing their families wasn't enough. You sold men and women like cattle. And when that wasn't enough, you handed them over to a madwoman who experimented on them to create a poison."
Sazar's grin didn't falter. "A poison that won this kingdom the war."
"A poison that killed my sister and countless innocents!" Canning's voice rose, his rage unmistakable.
He had found the evidence in Elsie's logbook, detailing her twisted experiments and the victims Sazar had provided. The truth had haunted him—her diary revealed her love for his brother-in-law, but even without explicit confirmation, the pieces fit. His sister had died because of Sazar's greed.
Sazar stroked his chin, still grinning. "Wars are won with sacrifices. So, this is personal, huh?"
"Wars are won with sacrifices. So, this is personal huh?" Lord Sazar asked, stroking his chin with a grin.
"Is it? I don't know. I think I told myself that it wasn't any of my business just to help myself sleep. I pointed victims of the war in your direction and you made a business out of them.
"Even then, I still told myself it was none of my business no matter how much it bothered me. I guess I am scum too because it was only after finding out of your involvement in the development of the poison that I acted. So maybe it is personal. But you know what? Only scum can deal with scum.
"I know I cannot correct my mistakes, but I am here to put an end to them. You're a product of an environment I fought so hard to protect, an environment I let continue to exist no matter how toxic it became. In a way, I made you and let you grow to cause more misery to the defenseless. So right here and right now Sazar, I will end you"
Sazar immediately broke out into rage-filled laughter. And to think he was worried about upsetting a powerful noble.
"Don't make me laugh," he said when he was done laughing.
"Someone really did their homework, muhahaha. If you know so much then you know how many allies I have too right? Well, I guess it is true that fools die young. My condolences about your sister too; perhaps you should reunite with her soon. I'm sure she misses you. If she was a slave of mine, I hope I made her suffer enough that she gladly accepted to get poisoned in the experiment," he provoked.
"See not once have I considered myself a product of my environment. I'm an opportunist, an visionary… No, I'm a hero. I gave Elsie the tools she needed to contribute to saving this kingdom. Your kingdom neglected the victims it caused and I helped distribute them. You may call it slave trading, but I'd rather call it payment for my services.
"You lowlifes should worship me, kowtow at my feet, and lick the very ground I walk on. Where your own king has faced problems and wracked his tiny brain for a solution, I have constantly provided one. I am above your king and can do what he can't because he cares about his image!
"Like a god, I do whatever I want and no one can do anything to me. But in the end, maybe we are both just scum like you said. We both created orphans, even if it was for different reasons. I made a business out of it, you did it in the name of fighting for your kingdom, but you don't see me judging you, do you?
"You made me?!!! No b*tch, I made you! I created the self-righteous conflicted piece of sh*t you are that fights off guilt and demons every time you blink! I turned your acts of chivalry into agony and look where it brought you… Back to me, your creator. So come on then, little one; come to me your merciful god! Let me end your suffering!" Sazar shouted with an angry sinister grin.
With that, Sazar began conjuring his Tier 8 spell, Land of the Damned. The ground dimmed as an eerie darkness engulfed the battlefield, spreading like an inescapable dome. A thick, fog-like substance rose from the cracks, shrouding the area in a suffocating gloom. It was as though they were trapped within a sphere of despair, the oppressive blackness pressing down on all within.
Noma's blazing Desert Sun hung above, its fiery glow cutting through the shadow and providing the only source of light. Yet even its fierce brilliance seemed dulled, struggling against the overwhelming tide of darkness.
The ground beneath them groaned and split, jagged cracks spreading like veins. From the depths, thousands of spectral hands erupted, clawing their way to the surface. Charcoal-black and otherworldly, the hands twisted and writhed with unnatural movements, reaching hungrily for Menzine and Lord Canning, their malevolent intent palpable.
For Menzine, the hands were no match. His sword danced through the air, slicing through them as fast as they emerged, though their regeneration was relentless. He cut a path through the field of grasping limbs with practiced precision.
Canning, however, didn't move an inch. The hands slammed against an invisible barrier surrounding him, unable to reach their target no matter how hard they tried. His calm, calculating expression remained unchanged.
Menzine eventually stepped beyond the range of Sazar's spell, his sharp gaze locking onto Noma, who had followed him out. Her movements were deliberate, her twin blades gleaming in the dim light. It was clear—she sought a duel, a clash of swords against an equal opponent.
With a faint sigh, Canning's voice broke the tense silence. "Perhaps one day, I too will face judgment. But today, Sazar, is your reckoning."
He clasped his hands together and began moving them with lightning speed, conjuring a spell of his own. In an instant, the battlefield shifted.
A Tier 8 field spell took shape—Mirror Mirror.
Hundreds of mirrors materialized around them, their surfaces shimmering and ethereal. They varied in size, some as large as doors, others small and jagged, and they filled the space at seemingly random angles. The mirrors hovered in the air, stood upright on the ground, and even floated high above, creating a maze of reflections.
The chaotic brilliance of the mirrors distorted the battlefield, but their true danger lay in their power.
Noma's Desert Sun fractured as soon as it struck the mirrors. The blazing orb split into dozens of smaller suns, each ricocheting off the mirrored surfaces at unpredictable angles. The battlefield became a blazing inferno of reflected fire, the intense heat magnified with each bounce.
Sazar's Land of the Damned suffered a similar fate. The spectral hands multiplied as they struck the mirrors, twisting and colliding with one another before bouncing toward new reflections. The disarrayed hands now targeted indiscriminately, even lashing out at Sazar himself.
Sazar stood frozen in shock as one of his own conjured hands grabbed his arm, while another punched him squarely in the stomach. He staggered, coughing, unable to comprehend how his own magic had turned against him.
This was the brilliance of Canning's field spell. Any magic weaker than his own that touched the mirrors was reflected and amplified, acting as though it had been conjured by Canning himself.
This was the power of Mirror Mirror, and the arcane fox who wielded it.