From the viewing stands, Warden Étienne de Villeneuve leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Clever boys," he murmured, stroking his beard. "Smoke to hide, traps to pressure… they're thinking like hunters already."
Beside him, Basil, the Warden of Constantinople, smirked faintly. "Thinking, yes. But they still underestimate Isabella's strength. Illusions and speed like hers can tear apart a team before they even blink. Unless…" His gaze sharpened, following the shifting haze below. "Unless they have something more."
The gong echoed again, and another wave of smoke surged across the arena—thicker in the center, thinner at the edges. This time, the fog was not endless; it was a focused veil.
Four silhouettes of Isabella circled the mist like predators. Her mirages flowed like dancers, closing in on the hunters inside.
And the real Isabella was somewhere around.
"Time to crush their little trick," Basil muttered.
But then Juan stepped forward inside the fog. His sabre gleamed wet, water dripping down its edge. With a fierce grin, he shouted:
"Down! Now!"
The group dropped flat as Juan spun, his blade whistling through the air. A circle of compressed water erupted outward like a slicing disk, shredding the fog into ribbons. The blade of water cut through all four mirages at once—nothing but scattering phantoms.
The real Isabella was forced to block, her rapier flashing to deflect the deadly arc. For the first time, her posture shifted, her calm elegance replaced with a sharp, focused glare.
From the thinning smoke, Matteo leapt forward, bowstring snapping as a volley of arrows streaked toward her. At the same time, Lucien and Ino closed the distance.
Lucien hurled a dagger, blood glistening on its edge. The weapon unraveled mid-air, threads of crimson webbing snapping toward Isabella like living veins. She slashed through the arrows, parried the shining threads, and spun away—only to realize, too late, that one of the threads had coiled around her right leg.
Matteo released another flurry, arrows hissing in quick succession. Isabella lifted her rapier skyward, and a sudden flash erupted—light bursting like lightning, blinding the group and spectators.
The stands gasped as the combatants staggered back, blinking in the brilliance. Basil chuckled darkly. "And there it is. Her Mirage Flash. They'll be blind for precious seconds."
But even in the blindness, Lucien acted. His second blood-dagger sliced through the air, colliding with her rapier. She smirked, thinking it another attempt at binding—until it detonated.
A violent crack of blood and steel burst into a cloud, a crimson storm exploding around her legs.
"Now!" Juan's voice cut through the chaos.
The hunters dropped low again. Isabella, half-blinded by blood and smoke, crouched instinctively, expecting another circular strike. Her eyes narrowed, searching the haze.
But nothing came.
Instead, water surged beneath his feet. With a roar, Juan propelled himself upward on a rising wave, his sabre gleaming as he soared three meters into the air. From above, he crashed down like a tidal wave, driving his blade in a furious thrust.
At that same instant, Isabella's knees weakened. Her breath caught—poison. She glanced at the arrow still buried in her thigh, realization dawning too late.
Her rapier wavered, her illusions faltered.
"You little devils…" she whispered, voice soft, almost proud. "Such clever boys."
Then Juan's blade descended.