The distorted reality twisted around Northern, folding and unfurling like waves of dark waters, each shift blurring the line between illusion and truth.
The colors clashed violently, shapes rippling with jagged unpredictability, and even his Chaos Eyes struggled to pierce the veil.
For the first time in a long while, Northern felt the faint touch of doubt creep into his mind.
This was different.
The creature wasn't just weaving illusions—it was rewriting the rules of the space entirely.
"Trapped, anomaly?" the creature's voice oozed from every direction, dripping with malice. "You've danced long enough. Now you'll be unmade."
Northern exhaled, forcing the doubt down. The Void Aura around him pulsed faintly as he anchored himself mentally and physically.
He couldn't allow this illusion to consume him. He wasn't the prey here.
