The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow that would soon give way to the silvery light of the moon. As the daylight faded, the scenery around Oliver began to shift dramatically.
Suddenly, cracks materialized across the endless plain, resembling shattered glass, expanding and splintering until they seemed to consume the sky itself. With a thunderous "bang," fragments erupted around him, transforming into countless glowing orbs that hung in the air for a fleeting moment before dimming and vanishing entirely.
Oliver recalled his earlier thoughts: without An's permission, he'd never find his destination. The truth was now clear. This entire space was cloaked in illusions, some lifted by the setting sun, others only dispelled in darkness or through specific actions.
He had hoped An wouldn't complicate things for him, but the situation was becoming more troublesome by the minute.
"Are you human?" A voice broke through his thoughts. The speaker, a figure shrouded in shadows, had her head raised, yet she hesitated to look up fully, as if afraid of what she might see.
"Yes, what's the issue?" Oliver replied, his left leg instinctively retreating. He braced himself, ready to evade an attack at a moment's notice. A sense of unease washed over him; he couldn't escape or hide in this strange place.
The door to safety would close once the moon rose. An had granted ownership of this space to the figure before him, meaning she could pinpoint Oliver's location at any moment. He glanced at the imposing silhouette behind her, its arms thicker than his own head, a reminder that one powerful blow could leave him sprawled on the ground.
As the moonlight spilled across the earth, elongating the shadows of the three figures, the mysterious woman lowered her gaze, contemplating something. "If you are human," she said slowly, "and if you are willing to surrender, I promise not to attack you. How does that sound?"
"Can you tell me why?" Oliver seized the chance to delay any confrontation. If he could buy enough time until dawn, he could slip away to safety. Engaging her in conversation might work to his advantage.
"Why?" She looked up, her expression unreadable. "There aren't many reasons. I simply hope that the struggle will continue." Her eyes drifted to the moon. "But I need an answer quickly."
Oliver pretended to ponder, raising his right hand as if to scratch his head, all the while planning to discreetly pull out an arrow. But her next words halted him.
"You want to pull out the arrow, don't you? Many have tried that before, but none have succeeded."
'Before?' Oliver's mind raced. The lifespan of elves was indeed long, but according to his teacher, infighting was forbidden among them. This elf must be facing a human adversary. If she had never succeeded against her attackers, it implied they had been numerous. Yet, he couldn't recall any stories of elves being attacked by humans throughout his life.
"So, you're also a resurrected being?" he asked, studying her closely.
"Yes," she replied, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "Though my sins can never be erased, what I've gained allows me a place among the resurrected, even if my true strength doesn't lie within myself."
More than one resurrected soul, then. And if her true power wasn't hers, it likely belonged to the being looming behind her.
Oliver shifted his focus, scanning her features with newfound intent. Everything appeared unchanged from their last encounter. Was she biding her time, sensing no immediate threat? Or was she waiting for the right moment to strike?
"It's been long enough," she sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Aren't you willing to surrender?"
Her tone was a blend of challenge and resignation, and Oliver realized that his next words could determine the course of their encounter.
It seemed there was no way to delay any longer. Oliver felt a weight in his chest as he spoke, his voice low but firm. "My situation is... complicated. My freedom can't be restricted so easily." He hesitated for a heartbeat before continuing, "I'm sorry to disappoint you." His words hung in the air like a final goodbye before he swiftly drew his bow and shot an arrow directly at his opponent.
His teacher's warnings echoed in his mind. "If you want to survive, never trust completely. Among the elves, there are traitors. If your freedom is taken, you may die before you even know it."
The arrow flew straight, following the path Oliver had carefully calculated in his mind. His target's skin had an odd, stone-like texture, suggesting ordinary arrows might not pierce through. But Oliver knew that no creature, no matter how strange, had eyes immune to sharp steel. 'Eyes are always vulnerable,' he thought as the arrow sped toward them.
But to his shock, when the arrow struck, it didn't find flesh. Instead, it made a metallic clang, like steel clashing with steel. The arrow bounced off the opponent's eye harmlessly, falling to the ground. The man's gaze remained intact, his eye unscathed. Oliver's heart sank. The atmosphere grew thick with tension, awkward in its stillness.
Without flinching, the elf, who stood nearby and watched, gave a quiet command to someone behind her. "Proceed."
Before Oliver could react, his body moved on instinct. He threw himself to the left, rolling fast along the ground, just in time to avoid the powerful blast of wind that exploded where he had been standing. Rocks and dust were thrown into the air, the force of it strong enough to strip the canyon walls.
'This is bad,' he thought, wincing at the memory of the male elf who had beaten him before. The situation was just as dangerous, if not worse.
"I'm curious," Oliver muttered under his breath, trying to regain some composure as he wiped the dust from his face. "What is he? What kind of creature could survive that?"
"He is human," the elf answered coldly, her eyes narrowing. "A dead human."
Oliver blinked, his mind stumbling over the words. "A... human?" He barely had time to process what she meant before his vision blurred with pain. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the dead man's fist flying towards him.
Dust filled the air as his body was thrown back, smashing through a tree before hitting the ground with a bone-rattling thud. Pain surged through him, but somehow, in the haze, Oliver managed to react. He instinctively dropped to the ground, barely avoiding a second blow. Yet, the mere force of the wind from the fist sent him tumbling once again.
Panting, Oliver forced himself up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Human? You call him human?" He spat blood from his mouth. "Do you take me for a fool?"
The elf's voice was unnervingly calm as she responded, "He was human... at least, he was at that time."
'At that time?' The words chilled Oliver to his core. His thoughts raced, trying to piece together what she meant. But there was no time to dwell. The pain, searing through his body, forced him to stay focused. He dodged the next attack, but just barely.
As he stumbled away, confusion clouded his mind. 'Was it some kind of magic? A blessing? Or something else entirely?' He eyed the 'human' pursuing him. If this was an elf, Oliver might have had a chance by forcing a magic surge. But if this was truly a human… it would take more than that. He cursed under his breath. With only four and a half bottles of magical elixir left, he couldn't afford to waste them recklessly.
His gaze darted around, seeking answers, when he noticed something strange. The elf who had been observing the battle had arranged various materials on the ground, carefully placing them in a pattern that vaguely resembled a magic circle. But it was unlike any magic Oliver had ever seen. A dim golden light flickered briefly, and then, as if by alchemical art, the materials fused into a solid form.
'Alchemy?' Oliver's eyes widened. He had thought the elf to be a simple apothecary, after all, he smelled of herbs and tinctures. But this... this was something far more dangerous.
Alchemy was a delicate, dangerous craft; using equivalent materials to create something of equal value, or worse, abandoning that balance altogether to chase powers beyond the natural world. His thoughts raced as he considered the implications.
'Could this 'human' have been an alchemical creation?' The pieces slowly began to fall into place. The human's eyes… they weren't normal. They didn't seem to function like a living being's. Perhaps they had been altered; turned to iron through alchemical means. That would explain why Oliver felt the eerie sensation of only one gaze upon him moments ago.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. 'No wonder my arrow didn't pierce his eyes,' Oliver realized. 'They weren't eyes at all. They were cold, unfeeling blocks of iron.'
With that unsettling revelation, Oliver knew he was in more danger than he had first thought. He needed to escape; fast.