The man vanished.
Andrew's eyes widened in shock as he hit the sand and almost tumbled forward because of the momentum.
For a moment, there was nothing but the rippling mirage of heat on the sand. Then, to Andrew's left, the man reappeared.
Or so it seemed.
"Got you!" Andrew shouted, darting forward, his sword cleaving through the air.
But the figure dissipated like smoke, revealing empty space where his blade struck. The man emerged from behind Andrew, his boot landing a sharp kick that sent him stumbling forward.
"Fighting me like this?" the man sneered, his voice echoing unnaturally. "You'll have to do better than guessing."
Mella responded with a sharp gesture, an iron spear materializing and launching toward the figure. It passed through him harmlessly, the illusion flickering as though it were nothing more than a poorly tuned projection. A moment later, the real man emerged, stepping from the shadow of one of his clones. His movements were seamless, his illusions weaving him into an impossible dance of deception.
Andrew barely dodged the incoming strike, his slippery secretion aiding his sudden lunge to the side.
The man laughed coldly, his shifting visage never settling in one place.
With each strike, he seemed to multiply, his distance and angles constantly shifting. "You're not doing so well. You should give up. We are not after you because you are special. It's because you're a nobody."
Andrew gritted his teeth, ignoring the man's barbs as he lashed out with his sword. He struck what he thought was solid, but the figure melted into sand, reforming just a step away.
The man's laugh rang out again as he pivoted, his illusions crowding the battlefield with an unsettling sense of menace.
Mella's iron spears launched in rapid succession, aiming at every flickering target, but none seemed to hit their mark. "He's everywhere!" she hissed, frustration mounting.
Andrew feinted a strike toward the illusion nearest him, pivoting sharply to the left where the real man had just appeared. His blade collided with solid metal, sparks flying. The man grunted and staggered back, but his illusions surged again, multiplying and swarming toward Andrew and Mella.
"Where is Hames?" Andrew demanded, forcing himself to stay upright as the battle pressed on. "Do you think I'm afraid to take you on alone? What's the point of all this if I'm just going to end up feeding him?"
The man paused for a moment, smirking as he sidestepped another iron spear. "Mella, you little traitor," he sneered, his real form briefly visible as the illusions flickered. "You told him everything, didn't you? Now he's asking all the wrong questions."
Andrew's sword arced toward him, but the man's illusions exploded outward in response, a dazzling flurry of shifting forms that overwhelmed Andrew's senses. He struck at nothing, the man's laughter ringing in his ears.
Andrew cursed under his breath as he ducked a swipe of the man's illusionary blade, only to feel the rush of wind from one of Mella's iron spears whistling past his ear.
"Damn it, Mella!" he barked, frustration mounting. "You're going to kill me before he does!"
"Then stop moving like a target!" she snapped back, another spear materializing in her hand and launching toward one of the flickering forms. It struck nothing, the illusion dissolving into smoke.
"How about you draw him in so I can actually hit him?"
Andrew dodged to the side as the man emerged from a clone, striking with precision.
Their weapons clashed, sparks flying as Andrew blocked the blow, but the man's strength sent him stumbling backward. A second spear grazed his shoulder, almost hitting the man.
"Watch your aim!" Andrew shouted, his voice cracking with exasperation. Sweat dripped into his eyes.
"Maybe if you stopped dancing in my line of fire!" she retorted, her tone sharp but wavering. Her frustration was evident as her spears became increasingly erratic, skimming too close for comfort.
The man laughed, his voice echoing as his illusions multiplied again. "Look at you two—so disorganized, so helpless. Do you really think you can win like this?"
Andrew gritted his teeth, turning his focus back to the enemy. "You think you can get away with what you've done?" he growled, parrying another strike. "How many people have Hames killed? How many lives ruined, just to feed your twisted goals?"
Andrew talked, trying his best to distract the man.
The man's form flickered as he sidestepped another of Mella's spears. "Morals, accountability… Who cares?"
He leaned in as another illusionary blade swiped past Andrew's cheek. "Stronger Hames is, the more powerful monsters we can kill, the higher quality cores we can sell... you get the logic? Think of yourself as a monster."
Andrew lunged toward the real figure, feinting left before slamming his blade into solid metal. Sparks flew as the man grunted, staggering, but his illusions surged back, surrounding Andrew once more.
Mella hurled another spear, the iron weapon slicing through one of the illusions and narrowly missing Andrew. "Andrew, you've got to stop letting him bait you!" she yelled, panic creeping into her voice.
"And you need to stop trying to kill me while helping!" Andrew shot back, spinning away from another clone. His grip tightened on his sword as he scanned the battlefield, looking for the faint shimmer that gave away the real man.
The man's laughter rang out again. "Tell me, is my manic laughing annoying you? My sister, she's a psychologist, she told me it stresses people out. Makes them make mistakes. Makes them--"
The two attacked, but the results were fruitless.
"You're really struggling, aren't you?" the man taunted, stepping briefly into view. His illusions surged forward, pressing Andrew and Mella further into the defensive. "Is this all you've got, Andrew? Throwing tantrums, and she hurling clumsy spears?"
"Shut up," Andrew responded.
"You're both pathetic," the man sneered. "Clumsy teamwork, empty ideals—you're nothing."
Andrew panted, his frustration mounting as the battlefield became a whirlwind of sand, shadow, and clashing metal. Each misstep felt like a failure, every stray spear a reminder of how close they were to disaster.
"We'll see who's laughing when this is over," Andrew muttered. "Mella. Come to me."
"What?" she snapped. "That's insane—I need range!"
"Just trust me!" Andrew barked. He pressed the attack, deliberately clumsy strikes scattering sand and metal alike. The man's illusions hesitated for the first time, and his smirk faltered.
"What's your plan here?" the man taunted, stepping into view briefly before vanishing again. "Get her killed faster? You were doing better when you were thinking."
Mella hesitated but moved closer, her spears faltering as she struggled to match Andrew's chaotic rhythm. "This better be worth it," she muttered, her eyes darting toward him for reassurance.
Andrew didn't reply, grabbing one of her discarded iron spears and hurling it back toward the illusions. It clanged against an iron spear on the ground.
Andrew's movements grew more erratic, his wild strikes kicking up clouds of sand and creating a cacophony of noise that filled the battlefield.
The man, growing impatient, pressed his attack with a ferocious intensity. His blade lashed out in rapid, precise strikes, each one heavier than the last. "Enough of this game!" he snarled, his voice crackling with fury. "I'm ending this now!"
Andrew's arms trembled as he parried the relentless blows, each strike driving him closer to the edge of his endurance. The force of the attacks sent shockwaves up his arms, his grip slipping slightly on the hilt of his sword.
Mella's spears missed the man and embedded itself in the sand. She was too low on energy. He grabbed Mella by the arm and threw her to the ground.
The man pressed forward, his blade slashing with murderous intent.
"You're both a waste of my time," he growled, his strikes coming faster, heavier, forcing Andrew to stagger back with each deflection.
The man's illusions surged forward, converging and weaving around him as if to mirror his frustration. "You think you have a chance? You're nothing but an insect underfoot!" he bellowed, slashing in a wide arc that barely missed Andrew, carving through the sand.
His patience was gone, and he wanted this over quickly.
"This is bad," Andrew muttered to himself, dodging another strike. Mella tried forming another spear, but her fingers trembled, nothing generating.
If she had more range and wasn't right near them, she could focus on drawing every little drop of energy in herself to create more.
The man's laughter boomed again, cold and mocking, as he loomed closer, ready to deliver a blow to his legs.
Just as the situation seemed impossible, a strange buzzing rose above the chaos. It started faint, like a distant hum, but grew louder with each passing second.
The man's head whipped toward the noise, his illusions faltering for a fraction of a second. "No," he muttered, his tone laced with disbelief.
Andrew grinned through the pain and exhaustion. "About time."
From the horizon, they came—human-sized crickets with razor-sharp scythe-like arms and glistening wings. The buzzing grew louder as dozens of them swarmed toward the battlefield.
The man stared in horror as the creatures descended.
Andrew grabbed Mella's arm tightly. "Hold on," he growled, and with a mighty push, his super-jump propelled them far away from the incoming swarm.
The man had two choices. Run, or fight them! Could he outrun them? Or could he kill a swarm without his team?
The man's curses were lost in the chaos as the crickets descended on him.
Andrew and Mella landed on the sand and rolled in it for a while before stopping. Andrew had put almost everything he had into that jump.
From their new vantage point, Andrew and Mella could see him struggling to fend them off.
Mella turned to Andrew, her wide eyes full of disbelief. "I don't get it. That jumping..."
Andrew panted, his legs shaking as he pushed himself upright. "We can talk about that later. Anyway, I want you to know that was why I wanted you close by me."
The sudden erratic and loud behavior, shouting, it was all to attract close-by monsters.
Pain radiated through Andrew's body. Mella helped him stay upright.
Croen was fighting back, but the crickets' relentless assault was clearly taking its toll. For every insect he killed, another two seemed to take its place, their bloodlust driving them forward.
Andrew wondered what would happen first. Would Croen kill enough monsters to diffuse the realm or will the monsters kill him before that? Of course, there was also the worry of his team rushing to his aid because they heard the commotion.