The crowd could not believe their eyes.
No, rather, it was more like their brains simply refused to process the sight before them.
There, the Keeper's Apprentice stood in all his wounded glory, his mangled side leaking more and more blood as he set his sights on the illusionist. Yet, he did not seem fazed by the fact that his lifespan was being reduced with every moment that passed; every crimson drop that stained the earth.
It was as if he was in a trance.
A deep, unfathomable stupor.
At first, it did not seem that strange to ignore the wound. He was currently in the midst of an intense bout - it made sense that he couldn't pay much attention to it. But, as time passed, the white-haired young man's movements did not become hurried or frantic as one might expect.
If anything, they seemed to become sharper.
…As if he was evolving directly in the middle of battle.
"M-monster…"
