Ronan: From Illusion, to Reality (Weakened) [HI]

[15:44] Time...
That was what he needed...
That, and the darkness aided him in his venture unbothered -- That was when another beacon in the night garnered his attention.

"It's much easier this way." He murmured to himself, phasing his physical form into a much more broken pattern. He gravitated off the ground as to make his movement silent, and moved slowly -- Wading only to slightly as to emulate the brush of wind against the tree leaves.

Eyes honed in on Eretria, seemingly alone.

"Another potential test subject."
This time, his voice was a bit louder, unconsciously so.
Though, it was masked through the illusionary veil he summoned to the fray:

Faceless, it was not something one could simply point a finger at, for it resided on the metaphysical domain.
--But it was there, and to the trained eye, it could be spotted...
What little of his voice was heard, was warped for a moreomnipresent portrayal.

Whether she saw initial movement in the shadows, to him? Was irrelevant.

(Ronan)
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[15:56] But it was there.

Hidden from sight by darkness and illusion. Even with the beacon they held- A crystalline bottle filled with brightly glowing liquid- It would've been hard to see the man which wandered here.

But it was there. A constant flow of mana, more present than those small bits of life among plants and animals and the like. Enough for the Neries to get a taste, and slow their current pace. Gold-flecked eyes scanned their surroundings.

There was something familiar about it. They couldn't quite put their finger on just where they'd felt such a thing before. But they could certainly point their finger toward it.

While his voice might've come from all sides, the source of his mana was singular. Gold-flecked eyes narrowed, focusing in on where he should be. Seeking a better look at the would-be danger in the night.

"I'd think not. Pick another hapless traveler, I'm not interested in being anyone's lab rat."
(Erétria Fengari)
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[16:07] That voice...
Ronan had heard it before...
Was it from Gehenna? No, the mountain - Certainly...
There were too many places to really pin it.

" That's the issue. " The voice spoke onward, further twisted in its vocalization. Something urged Ronan to condone to it, this persona was too familiar for his liking. It grumbled, and coupled with a legion of voices emulating those he had come across in the past, speaking in tandem.

" So many grow concerned with consequences, but no one thinks about how it could mean the betterment of Agartha. " It claimed, before the shadows themselves around the cast light seemed to warp.
The Illusionary arcane allowed for some to twist the perception of the world, and during the day - Such could be noted to be nothing more than cheap tricks... But in the dark of night? It was the ambiguity of nature encompassing a target that this illusionist sought to take advantage of.

Where one couldn't discern clear details, the darkness wrought movement.
Wildlife? Perhaps...
But from their sides, just outside the ring of gleaming light were crimson hues - Glaring them down.

Either a pack of hunting fauna had stumbled upon her, or these were just mind games. Though, it was only the beginning...
She seemed suspicious as to where he was - Could it be that misdirection was his goal?

From behind her, a silhouette was wrought from the darkness - Devoid of many features, making a silent creep up to her. It seemed intent on reaching out to her, as though to palm the back of her horned head if she did not act accordingly.

… Perhaps, it was simply another illusion, or the acts of misdirection were truly deeper than one originally surmised.

(Ronan)
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[16:30] Another shift. Movement, at the edge of their vision. At the very edge of the light cast by their 'lantern' bottle. Their lips pressed together in a thin line, not quite a frown, but a discomforted expression nonetheless.

They stood a bit taller. The hair on the back of their neck stood on end. But they gave little other sign, outwardly, of the uncertainty they felt. When their head turned, their gaze seeking direct focus on one bit of movement or another, it was slow. Calm.

The faint rattle of chains resounded with the motion. A clatter of golden jewelry attached from horn to ear.

It wasn't quite right. If it were animals where would that voice have come from? Perhaps a sound magi might distort their voice- But to be so obscured, so hidden from the eye.

Finally their finger landed on the reasoning. Of course.

They took a step away from the bushes. Out, into the taller grasses. One hand reached back and drew their stave- A simple thing of mithril and orichalcum, topped with a ruby red gemstone. The faint glimmer of enchantments flared across the surface.

With a thud the base hit the ground. Quicksilver light glimmered at the Neries' fingertips, traveling up and down the lines of orichalcum upon the stave. And though they were not one for proper magic, the latent gifts of their race were something they did understand.

Starting from the very center, a drain opened up. Plantlife started to wither and grey, the very life seemingly pulled from the air around. Within a growing sphere of influence, mana started to fail. Dampened by the Neries' power.

Shallow circuits gained a taste of mana, at last. Quicksilver spread from their fingertips, up their arm. Across thin lines.

The intent? It should be obvious enough. They meant to drain whatever magic was effecting them. To rid the night of his illusory veil and leave them both in a mana-drained field.

If it worked, then perhaps they could trust their senses again.
(Erétria Fengari)
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[16:44] This was... Strange.
There were some that would outright try to break the illusions cast on them, thus, his solution to the dilemma was to cast around them. Surely, they'd have to resort to their senses then, right?
No, it seemed as though this horned individual was different.

There was an odd ebbing from his person -- Much like the last horned individual he faced.
That was when a connection was made, perhaps that was it!

These horned individuals had the ability to siphon energy from him! That was why he was getting tired passively through the last encounter - That was why his conjuration required him to funnel more energy than just seconds prior.


" Interesting. I'm starting to pick up a trend in the people I come across... But I need to learn more. "
As apt as his assumption was, this time it felt different.
This one was... Weaker? No, perhaps it was just lesser application - Too soon to judge power levels just yet.

The crimson eyes slowly began to blink, one after the other -- Never to open again.
Though the silhouette persisted, glitching in its image and closing the proximity from behind Erétria. It reached out, so close to resting its hand upon her head -- But as though to warn her of pending danger its presence radiated an abrupt chill, intent on drawing her attention just before it could clutch its ebony digits across of head -- Or if lucky enough to have her turn around, her face.

Though, unlike a more driven persona, it was sluggish -- Easily avoidable.

Ronan on the other hand was forced to make his move. This initial assault was wrought for a distraction, for Ronan followed suit in his dive.

What once appeared to be wading tree branches and bark came to life, breaking from the tree to rapidly close in on the Neries -- A static image, of a broken pattern molded into humanoid form: The source - The illusionist. It was his hope that the conjured shadow that reached out would either have its mark, catching her off-guard, or at least turn her around for him to make the first move unabated.

… But he had no idea as to her capabilities...
Guard was up, prepared to retreat at a moments notice.

"I don't want you scathed, just 're-educated', for the greater good."
(Ronan)
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[17:02] One by one the distractions winked out. Eyes closed to the world, having never truly seen in the first place. Thus pockets of mana were dispelled. The somewhat confusing web of illusions untangling before their eyes.

Or, before their.. What? It wasn't quite sight that they used. And they could distinguish a 'flavor' for different magics, but they didn't use their tongue either. Nor did touch seem the right sense, nor hearing, nor smell.

It was a sixth sense of sorts, then. One far more refined the less mana there was around them. It was easier to pinpoint a certain spice when it wasn't mixed in with the soup. Or something like that. They didn't care for analogies at the moment.

They cared for what was left. One pocket of mana lingered behind. One shifted and grew closer in front. The neries was uncertain which required more attention. Which they should face, and which they could, for the most part, ignore.

A chill picked up behind. A dive straight for them in front. Their solution, then? In the heat of the moment they didn't even have time to think. They simply acted.

The bottle they held was latched to their belt. They lifted the stave they held, taking it in both hands. For the being behind they swung the butt of their staff, intent on forcing whatever it was back and away- And a split second later the top of the stave was pointed toward him.

What mana they'd gathered from their surroundings flowed in reverse, all at once. Runic engravings once dull quicksilver abruptly sparked azure, as a beam of pure energy fired off toward their attacker.

Not energy from within, but energy stolen from him.

The message then should be loud and clear, but they reiterated.

"I'm. Not. Interested. In your 'greater good.'"
(Erétria Fengari)
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[17:14] That... Was new.
They seemed to be stealing his mana, not merely from his reserves but his conjurations... Then, throwing it back at him in raw form!
It was fascinating - Unlike anything he had ever seen before!
Unfortunately, the demonstration was the beam of mana that caught him mid-charge, sending him sprawling back for the tree he dived from.

The crash into the base of the tree sent a spray of wood chips and splinters every which way, briefly clouding the camouflaged aggressor.
Perhaps, he still had to recover some bit from the battle earlier, or this individual was more unique than he'd like to admit.

The subtle traces of fear irked at him - There was danger in encounters like this. In encounters plagued with the unknown -- But without exploration, how would anyone evolve beyond ignorance"
This was Ronan's justification.

"If I keep my face hidden, then I should be able to carry onward after this encounter without hinderance." He thought to himself, slowly easing himself back up his feet.
It was cloaked, but not truly invisible.
The illusionary mastery he had come to grasp thus far wasn't proficient enough to muster that much.

"Unfortunately, your interest isn't a variable in the matter."

They stood upright, unmoving -- Prepared for the worst that may follow.
It was as though, he was attempting to predict her next move - Course of action.
How would she deal with him?
How could he close the proximity without falling victim to another technique such as what she showcased?

… Could she have proven to be, a successful test subject if he pushed onward?
(Ronan)
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[17:37] The natural laws of this mystical world wouldn't allow something as pathetic as Ronan to prove capable alone.
Which is why, the very fundamental boundaries of the metaphysical had to be warped to change these laws... To rewrite a reality in which he broke from the stature of weakness.

Oddly enough, he felt more energy returning to him from the last battle versus what had drained him during this one.
Certainly he struggled, but soon a pattern was catching his eye.

"Your talent is restrained to your light. That, and what you cast is where your vantage lies."

The oddly transparent person leaped from the luminated area under the Neries' control.

"So, I will take it away."

There seemed to be a subtle draft -- A breeze? No, it had to be just another illusion cast within the fray.
… But then, why did it draw at one's hair? Their clothes? Rocks, foliage... Even the awful sound of wood churning in on itself, bending, and splintering in reverence to a superior suction.

Alas, the terrain began to quake, crackling akin to shattered glass, to rise in chunks for the heavens.
It was the skies, where the stars seemed oddly absent that they ascended to. Compiling violently into one another, in a mash derby of the battlefield's inventory.

Soon, the lavender gleam of the circular event horizon could be spotted: A black hole, conjured from the shadows. What little light glimmered from above seemed to twinkle away?
Even the mood seemingly faded.

No... This man was not omnipotent, there was another explanation - There had to be. Light was being bent, between the collaborative usage of Gravity and Illusion around this alternate Black Hole technique, stretching out the visuals of those at the battle scene.

"... --and like that, you are vulnerable."
Color was stripped away...
To gray...
And alas, to black...
Silence.
But pressure that compounded from all angles.
As though, to exhibit true oblivion.

That was when a sharp stinging sensation clung at the Neries' chest, a hard prod with the butt of... A staff?
Light had abruptly returned, vision and senses in tow.
The irritated gurgle of reality rattled bass in acknowledgement to the expired spell.

Ronan leaped back for a safe distance, attempting to examine his foe.
Was she dispatched yet? Was it safe to approach? He wondered, but wasn't sure.
(Ronan)
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[18:05] Within that sphere of influence the world made sense. Beneath their feet plantlife dried up and greyed out. Animals knew better than to stay where the light touched. Faint as the drain was, the intensity of battle called for much mana to be gathered.

And thus the neries need pull from any and every source at their disposal. Even still, it was slow. They could not fire off those brilliant beams of azure light constantly. And in the downtime they had little they could do but try to drain more mana from him.

Little by little the power which encroached close enough drained away. And for a time it was enough. It kept them on somewhat even ground. But he learned quickly enough.

Beyond the light the world grew dim and blurry. The semi-transparent being they fought disappeared into the night beyond, and though they sought to bring him back into the light they found keeping up difficult. They found their reserves waning.

Like a breeze. An updraft. Unnatural. They did not feel the same mana which came from illusory effects- And so it must be real. But then. What was it from?

They had the thought to follow the motion. To glance up where the moon should have watched their battles from on high. Yet the stars had winked out of sight, and the pale face of the moon hid amidst pitch-dark.. Something.

One hand lifted upward. Quicksilver at their fingertips, as they sought to pull upon what drew in the lights of the sky. They sought to dampen whatever grand effect he'd created- Yet it was too little, too late. Color was already fading out.

Sight. And sound. And senses all, offering naught but oppressive weight. Pressure from all sides. Smothering. Making it ever so hard to even breathe.

The neries couldn't say how long that state lasted. With no external reference it could even be said that they had died, and passed into oblivion. And so despite the pain, when that prodding came, it was a relief to know they had not failed just yet.

Despite the fact they were sent sprawling. It meant they were still alive. It meant they still had a chance.

Blurred vision gazed upon the sky. There was little movement from them. Each breath was drawn swift and shallow. Their grip upon their stave so tight one might think it their only lifeline.

Soon enough, quicksilver glimmered again. Around the plantlife stirred, as though a breeze disturbed it. Their dampening aura picked up again, pooling what mana they could steal- And from the earth itself roots wrapped over their shoulders. Their torso. Their legs.

In direct contact with the plantlife they felt a jolt of energy. A channel more easily made through touch. It meant, for a time, they could not move. But they were free soon after.

Free to leap to their feet. Revitalized.

Free to slam their stave into the ground, and force a shockwave through the grass. Where in a radius the plantlife withered, in the center a sapling sprouted up. A little gnarled tree reaching toward the stars above.

The petals of fallen flowers. The dried wisps of dead leaves. Rot and decay, fungus quickly taking root in what the neries killed off. Those things began to swirl around them. A cloud of sickening spores and decaying life.

They had grounded themself within nature, to push through the illusory veil. Now it was simply a bit more literal.

Their stave turned on him once more.
(Erétria Fengari)
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[18:09] Ronan says, "< Interesting... It seems though there is a direct parallel to the environment and their reserves. >"
[18:09] Ronan says, "< Something I will have to deal with before I can hope to get close. >"
[18:39] It made a world of difference.

Everywhere the light touched, nature bent to their whims. Grasses withered and decayed, and in the place of such, fungi sprouted up. Strange little things, in vibrant, poisonous colors of reds, ambers, yellows, and even the odd few blues or purples.

Soon their battlefield became a veritable forest of fungus. Mycelium webbed across the ground, constantly pulling mana inwards. The neries was using the very earth as a conduit to draw mana more efficiently. To pull and direct and fight against his attempt to disorient.

With their fingers on the pulse of the world around them, they could easily distinguish what was real, and what was illusory. The plantlife as their aide, Eretria kept their wits about them this time.

They raised a grand, central 'tree' from the earth. That gnarled little sprout reaching toward the sky, soon blossoming vibrant azure and gleaming with luminescent spores. 'Leaves' miniature caps of the massive dark-stemmed mushroom which resided upon the field.

In its presence the Neries seemed less vulnerable. Each strike which landed against them dampened in effect. They bounced back from the pain quicker each time, drawing more and more mana from him in the process.

And when they fought back it was no longer purely beams of brilliant azure. It was death and decay. It was toxic spores released from the strange plantlife all around.

They clung to his skin. Got into his airways. Lit him up, like a beacon in the night, with bioluminescence. And with that guiding light upon him they could not easily miss.

Quicksilver flared at their fingertips again. It glimmered through the runework on their stave, trailing up and down its length. Gold-flecked eyes glistened in the night, focused solely on the semi-visible man. And rather than pure mana, they fired quite the opposite toward him.

A blast of anti-magic. Whatever power it was that allowed them to dampen the mana around them. Concentrated into a single strike, which burst outward in an attempt to overwhelm. To force what mana he had left to drain.

"My interest is in keeping myself alive and unharmed. So whether you like it or not you've got to deal with that variable now. Unless you'd rather back off. Turn your interest elsewhere."

One step, they backed closer to the 'tree' which illuminated the field now. Their stave lifted once more, the point still aiming toward him like they were holding a spear instead.

"Because if you continue this, the odds most certainly will not be in your favor. And these are certainly some high stakes. Are you feeling lucky"
(Erétria Fengari)
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[18:51] Never had he thought that this would twist so drastically in such a short amount of time.
The spores stung at his eyes, and forced him to cough. He couldn't keep this up for very long.

How good would the art of delusion operate against something that could deteriorate his ability to deceive? It came to wearing him down and keeping him from robbing her of her previously defined weakness.

"This was simplier when she had a glaring weakness." He thought to himself, attempting to parry the oncoming strikes with debris he launched around from the environment. Though, he was growing fatigued -- It was obvious. Try and hide all he liked, he was being tagged too many times...
But that's when he noticed.

"Wait, she's not simply trying to strike blindly anymore!" He noted internally, turning to his now illuminated hands.
It was a strategy that he didn't see coming!
It was a glowing mess - in the most literal sense.

Bioluminescence defiled his nigh invisible image! She, could see him.
"She's been using her nature magic to tag me, this entire time!"
It was during this startling realization that he snapped back to reality from this thoughts. He was open, exposed... vulnerable.

That was when the stream came -- The next attack in her arsenal was not a beam of his own mana. No, this was something else.
It washed over him, taking him and siphoning what it could en passing.
The glow was purged, as was the veil that shrouded him: It was opaque again.

He was...

Back on his hands and knees...
Again.

Perhaps, it was to be expected, that this would be his default stance - Was this simply a sign from the divine?
Was this what he was to be equated to?

Their burned arm rose, hand balled into a fist - and driven into the earth for an explosive shockwave of gravitational energies en flux - A bass rattle trailed the impact, but only preceded a constant quaking of the earth.
A small crater was bestowed unto the shattered earth to encircle the fallen Ronan.
Their breathing could be heard:

Labored.
No, not just that... There was something else.
Anger.
Fury.

Pebbles and rocks were captured in the summoned gravity veil, picking up the fallen trees, boulders and remnants of the battle surrounding the combatants.
Erétria demonstrated that she clearly was stronger than she originally let on... But now? Ronan seemed to be revealing that more was buried beneath the surface than one would've initially suspected.

A tweeting zap sounded off from the illusionist, cackling out with the first stream of contorted mana taking shape outside his body. Through his radiant wrath, birthed a visual mana-bound conceptualization of time in its most malevolent form.
What debris floated in his immediate presence was torn asunder in a flash of lavender light.
A steady stream of mana discharge burned away his image for a shadow, leaving the white-hot light to encase him fully.

The eruption of energy sung an unearthly howl summoned from the depths of the shadows and conjured gales abroad to shred in circular fashion abroad their battleground.
It was the utilization of magics to emulate Time, Space and Reality all at-play.

The explosive epicenter of this unraveling spewed a ray of lavender to the skies above - Ascending disks took form at its girth, gyrating up its length to drill for the heavens themselves!
The sound felt akin to thousands of shrieking children and chirping birds. The bass rumbled for the earth as Ronan's aegis carved out a larger crater, etching it away into dust.

What foliage proved too close to this display, would be aged into oblivion: This was the solution.

" Enough, games."
The warped voice exclaimed, now a standing shadow amidst his manifested aura.
The white-light subsided, though what little of the aegis remained, took the form of fulmination that'd dance across his now-levitating form.
He may've lost his transparent appearance, but he was still hooded: This was still, too risky for his own good though.
If anything, now he felt forced to follow suit for his original intent.
(Ronan)
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[19:31] Space.
Time.
Reality.

In Ronan's weakened state from the wounds he compiled from battles before and now, he used them to reign domination over the battlefield.
Where a beam of sapphire energy would strike, his image would glitch out of reality, and another doppelganger would turn out to be his true person.
From the shadows, two, three... Four images of his body would arise, all of which intent on closing the distance for the Neries -- All, oddly determined to get their hands on her.

Though, it was the command over nature that kept her at bay, the summoning of the oddity dubbed: Anti-mana that siphoned these images out of existence. An image of Ronan managed to get in close, reaching out for a punch that barely made its mark -- Moreso a brush against her cheek.

… But to this failure, the true Ronan grinned...
That was all it took.

The physical senses were abruptly turned 'off' in an instant:
Sight: Rendered to Darkness.
Feeling: Burned to a dull numbness.
Hearing: Silenced for an absolute mute.
Smell: Snipped, as though she was rendered unable to breath.
Taste: Vanquished outright.

It was, -that- doppelganger that got the touch, that was the true Ronan then.
The Neries' physical body was separated from its controller, trapped within their own mind at the work of mastered illusionary prowess.

"I've, got you!"

They seemed to idle, weakened drastically from what they were mid-battle. Certainly, there was hardly a chance they could resist now?
...Right?
The magi reached out to catch at the woman's face, levitating to make-up for the height difference and hovering to pull her off the ground.
The further implementation of illusionism upon her now, isolated mind allowed one to warp his very own illusions in tandem with her mental constructs: Artificial memories.

Where his illusions left gaps, the mind was forced to compensate, all in an attempt to fool them into believing it was theirs. The arcane of Time severed the bind between Reality and this conjuration, to create an alternate reality: Ronan's Reality, unbound by True Reality's laws of Time.
He could stretch out her perception of time in comparison to what time -did- pass out in reality!
The illusionist was successful!... Or... Was he? He could feel it.
This battle and the one before it certainly drained him extensively, and what inkling of strength this individual had was making this spell wane in potency. What he could create, wouldn't last long -- But it'd be long enough to get away.


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- In the mind of Erétria Fengari -
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A gasp, and they'd awake once more. This time... In a bed? What about what she experienced earlier? Did this make any sense? Perhaps, it was just a strange dream. At points, it'd feel as though her body was on auto-pilot. Was this her desire? Or, did she really know why she was doing any of the things that she was. Alas, she'd depart from a clinic based in Levengard. The sun was shining, it had only recently broke dawn.

What was going on?

In the centre of town, was Thalia, simply idling as she tended to do, with Ilui in tow.
Few others wandered the streets, from Lea, Sima Kang and Ichida. Other randoms wandered the streets, but it seemed as though... That was it. Was she here the entire time? No, perhaps someone had brought her here.

That was when she was approached by someone: A medic, from the clinic behind her.

"My-my~ You banged yourself up in that sparring session quite a bit." They claimed, attempting to reach out for Eretria's shoulder.

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- In Reality -
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Alabaster light emanated between Ronan's digits, as he held the Neries up by her head. He was attempting to recreate a reality within her head in which she never met him. Though, the effectiveness of such was...
Concerning him.

Would it work?
Years of theorizing and study went behind this.
Just as much examination of his surroundings and travel did as well, to recreate the world to such minute details.

*************************************************************
- In the mind of Erétria Fengari -
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Time had transpired, and the woman would find herself wandering through these same woods as she did in Reality. Though, this time...
It was three individuals passing through the area.

"Oi..." One of them called out to her.
"Thas' her!" The three took pause, whipping out weaponry to their persons.

"Eight hundred, alive, eh? Mus' not be 'dat hard to grab."

The three began their slow encircling around her form, each of which taking to their own element.

Fire.

Lightning.

Earth.

Simple magus bounty hunters that were way-in over their heads... But determined enough to make their mark, or die trying.


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- In Reality -
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Ronan allowed this portion of the illusion to grant more free reign to her actions. Though, it was obvious -- He couldn't keep this up.
His hand lost its grip, as trace amounts of her toxic spores got to him. She was dropped to the ground, making the rest of the hyperbolic illusionism technique play out in her favor, until she'd find herself in a similar state to her true self.
She'd awake, and Ronan had took to his camouflage - fleeing for the woods.

He couldn't keep things up this time, but... Maybe, next time.
Whether she'd question the conflicting memories from opposing realities, or even dismiss one, to believe Ronan's artificially crafted one, was ultimately up to her judgement.
(Ronan)
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[20:40] Beyond the circle of light, it was his reality. Beyond the edges of their fungal sanctuary the battlefield was his, easily altered. Their influence kept them grounded within the light, but that only worked so far.

In the end they weren't truly a combatant. They were working off the most basic of instincts. Where flight would've resulted in losing themself among his illusory veil, to fight was their only option. And for a time it held him off.

They put a drain on each image which dared encroach. Spores picked up on naught but mana, unaltered by the winds nor the draw of gravity. Bioluminescent weaponry attempted to seek out the 'real' Ronan- But he had picked up on the trick prior.

He could easily alter his illusions to match what they expected in reality. It was more difficult than marking a target that was trying to go unseen.

And so aquamarine and quicksilver were their last line of defense. The latter first, as they sought to drawin mana from the constructs which approached. And the former second, turning that mana back on him. Yet that was a relatively slow process.

With so many closing in they ran out of mana before they could blast the last one back. Their stave raised between them. An attempt to keep it at a distance. With their superior height, superior reach was also theirs.

So it was unsurprising the punch was more a light tap against grey skin. Unsurprising there was little immediate damage done to their physical form.

But all at once, now. The world was gone again.

The last thing they felt was the 'tree' against their back as their balance suddenly failed. Their last sight, a sly grin beneath the shadow of a hood. What they heard- Their own voice crying out in a sharp yelp of surprise and fear.

Their taste that of blood, when they'd managed to bite their tongue. And the scent before that too failed- Rot. Decay. And iron.

Then for several moments, nothing.

. . .

A jolt. A gasp.

Gold-flecked eyes opened to meet the ceiling of an unfamiliar building above. Their back ached, a bit, but they were lying on something quite soft. Slender hands tapped against bedsheets. Odd. Hadn't they just been out in the fields?

They felt a need to get up. An urge which pushed them to stand. They weren't quite balanced, but they forced themself to walk. Moving with a sense of purpose, in a direction they weren't sure why they wanted to go.

Ilui. Thalia. Two they'd seen around.. Levengard? Why were they here? It had been the closest to where they'd fought, but who would bother carrying a neries all that way?

At the sound of a voice they jumped, one hand lifted defensively as their gaze met with an unfamiliar person. A medic, by the uniform they wore, but that was all the more they could tell. They'd never seen this person in their lifetime.

And they claimed it was a spar? The neries stepped away, out of the medic's reach. A frown rested upon their lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The last thing they said, before walking away.

. . .

He could hear the mumbled words they spoke.

Their body still reacted, to some degree. Slender grey fingers held a death-grip upon their stave. Gold-flecked eyes, blind to the real world, flitted back and forth. Wild, and most certainly afraid.

Around them the fungal forest slowly lost its luminescence. The 'tree' at their back no longer glowed, yet it remained standing tall. A gnarled remnant of the battle that had transpired between them.

Each breath slowed from their frantic pace. The thrill of battle had left them, and confusion took its place. They'd calmed to a degree, over time, but confusion still remained seeded within their mind. The illusory voice of one ortwo brought a twitch to their fingers.

Quicksilver started to glimmer again.

. . .

Bounty hunters. For eight hundred coins?

They must've truly been desperate. Or stupid. Or perhaps both. The neries narrowed their eyes at the lot, gaze flicking from one, to the next, to the next. A faint smile tugged at the corner of their lips.

Each was weak enough on their own. Together they might've posed a threat. Maybe. If Eretria hadn't had a particularly brilliant idea.

Quicksilver flashed across the runework of their staff.

Quicksilver flashed across the runework of their staff.

In the immediate vicinity, mana started to fade out. To drain away and dampen. Pulling away what powers they possessed and gathering them within shallow circuitry. Forcing the magi to waiver, their strength waning.

And forcing him to use far more mana to keep the illusion going.

It was a clean sweep. Faster than any fight they'd taken part of prior. Taking the powers away from magi seemed to fray their nerves, usually. And in the face of their nullifying magic the trio would certainly flee. Soon enough they'd run off. Right?

As the sphere of influence spread fires flickered out. The earth ceased its rumblings. Sparks fizzled and died. The illusion waivered, as they made note of the taste.

It hadn't changed. Each magi held the very same mana.

. . .

The world seemed to shatter.

What lingering illusory imagery he forced into their mind was drained quickly the moment he turned to run. They could easily mistake the silhouette of him running off for one of the thugs which fled. They didn't see the others, though. And they felt far too tired to try and chase him down.

They fell to their knees upon the mycelium field. Their stave hit the ground before them, their head bowed forward. Their eyes fell shut. Each breath slow, calm.

Fungal fauna still littered the world around them.

Eretria paid little mind to that. To anything but the confusion within. Two memories which tried to take precedence. They were uncertain which to believe. And for the moment, they did not allow themself to believe either.

Something had happened. They didn't understand what, exactly. So for the time being, they decided to give themself time to process. Eventually they'd figure it out.

.. Right?
(Erétria Fengari)
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