Her attack was quite unsuccessful, with her own illusion so easily seen through. That confirmed at least some of her suspicions though, and gave her some much needed answers to her silent questions. One of the clones of himself made through illusory powers was destroyed, but this man had an army when it came to his opponent’s perception.
Some of the nearby monsters took on the appearance of the shady, mask-wearing man, leading her to believe it was yet another illusion of the mage, and no madness of her own mind. It was clear which one was really him, however. She did not require the use of her physical senses to detect her enemy. Rather, she only needed the solid perception of his soul, in ever constant flux. She was unable to find a solid grasp on just what he was, after all.
Demon, god, angel, holy, unholy, human, mortal, rinse, wash repeat.
Even her own mixed and muddied soul did no such thing. It was not shifting its very nature and essence at inconsistent speed rates. Sometimes, his flux was slow, only to speed up, slow down, slow down, speed up, slow down, and speed up again…
He was no Daemon, like she was. That was not the soul of one who consumed the souls of others to further their own nature. However, his striking soul made him easy to pick out in the crowd of mind illusions.
“Look at who the Magic Council dropped in-- another one of their cats,” Lucie commented, her diamond blade shattering in her hands and disappearing. When it came to the magical politics of Fiore, the Rune Knights were the dogs of the magic council, loyal and almost always chained to a collar and a leash, and a muzzle if needed. Guilds were cats, free for the most part, but still pets reliant on their owners. Lucie took a wild guess that this man was a member of a guild, and assumed he had been deployed by the Magic Council, or at the very least was acting out of some sense of righteousness.
“Playing the hero, I see,” the raven-haired girl continued, staring with stern red eyes at the true masked man. Her face held little to no emotion, other than a stoic look, with a mild hint of curiosity.
“Peace Village is doomed with or without your help. Why waste your time here fighting monsters when the world is already overrun with them?”Given the framing of the Black Rose guild master, as according to the plans of the Savage Skull guild master, there was little left for anyone here to have a normal life. The name of the village was quite the oxymoron now, as it was anything but peaceful. Perhaps ‘Chaos Village’ would be a much more suitable name. Lucie fondly remembered the panic she had stirred the night they framed the legal guild of roses. Now that the monsters were spreading around the world, and were no longer contained to just Fat Monster Land, there were few places that could still be considered safe. Why did anyone waste energy trying to fight against a force that could not be stopped?
Lucie rarely spoke much, and the words she had just uttered were far more than she was used to using in her statements. However, in this case there was no reason to be that normal girl of few words. The floodgates had been opened, and the monsters were still pouring from various circles. While not all of them were still active, the beasts in Peace Village were far from complete extermination. Granted, the beasts here were of a smaller scale than the monsters she had seen in the past, when the Magic Council had called mages to their aid.
A Peace Village guard, seemingly controlled from the inside by one of the hell wasps, rushed towards the Daemon, sword flailing wildly in hand. He staggered as he walked, but still moved at a fairly quick pace. Before Lucie could make a movement against the attacker, a blazing bolt of fire was launched from the sky towards the possessed man. Within seconds, he was consumed by the flames, incinerated into nothing but ash. Following the brief snap of heat, a blue creature with a wild pelt of fluff landed from a long leap next to the raven-haired Daemon. The fluffy dragon gazed with curious and somewhat frightened orange eyes at the small army of masked men, being unable to notice the difference between every illusion. Despite his apprehension, the lion-sized dragon’s thick coat of fur stood on end as it stood in a battle stance, ready to defend his friend if any of the masked men made a move against them.
Rifcha, the Lowland Behemoth Drake, slowly would light his bright primary blue pelt on fire, until the azure hue of his fur could no longer be seen-- covered by brilliant blazing flames. Fortunately, his partner seemed immune to the immense heat he produced. Not only that, but he had discovered that the fire he produced could even aid Lucie, should she consume the flames. If she needed them, he was alight and ready to aid or give action. All he needed was movement before him or a verbal or telepathic order from the Daemon.
Location;; Peace Village
Muse;; 6/10
Word Count;; 885 / 2,019 // 2,000
OOC;;