[Ren Hilton's POV]
Year: 1738
Date: 6th
Month: Embera
Time: 3:32
"And this counts as last....nah you are still there," I muttered, my voice a hoarse whisper as I surveyed the aftermath of the prolonged battle.
The fight had taken its toll, not only on my mana reserves but on the very fabric of the chamber itself. The corpses of smugglers and the remnants of my clones lay strewn across the once-pristine floor, transforming it into a gruesome mosaic of blood and shattered bones.
I peered down at the mystical orb, its luminous glow flickering like a fading star. Cracks marred its surface, signaling that it had reached its limit.
"Tud*Tud*," the echoes of the two surviving clones collapsing punctuated the chamber's newfound silence.
Is this the extent of my control over these illusions? My mana was nearly depleted, and the fatigue weighed heavily on me.
