Chapter 1062
Eivass: you already died
“I’m already dead?”
Count Orléans was startled in his heart.
Rationally speaking, he wanted to dismiss the other party’s words as nonsense… but he couldn’t help the fear in his heart.
Ever since he obtained the Mad King’s Skull and figured out some of its rules, Count Orléans had simultaneously harbored ambition and fear in his heart.
On one hand, he believed that with the Mad King’s Skull, he could defeat any enemy. On the other hand, he knew that he could fail against any enemy.
Was it possible that this time… he had truly been abandoned by it?
Or had the Swan King inside the Box of Nothingness awakened? He realized that he was being used and now wanted to seize the opportunity to kill him?
Or was his previous worry correct… Did Arsen truly cooperate with the Vendome Family and the Eagle Eye organization to uncover the secret of the Mad King’s Skull, and now they wanted to snatch his treasure?
Countless thoughts surfaced and fell within his mind, the fear in his heart making Count Orléans feel incredibly cold.
It was as if he had swallowed a piece of ice, feeling the piercing cold like a knife cutting open his esophagus and drilling into his abdomen.
The moment such a thought appeared, Count Orléans realized it was not an illusion.
…My stomach, why is it so cold?
Why is it suddenly so quiet?
Has Arsen stopped singing? When did he stop?
Count Orléans slowly lowered his head and saw a blood line gradually appearing from his abdomen.
Blood spurted out in streams, splashing onto the ground and walls. As he looked down and clearly saw that he had been cut in half, the blood suddenly gushed out.
It was like the water from a bucket splashed onto the ground, the blood making a “hua la” sound, hitting the ground and splashing up in a semicircle.
His upper body tilted backward, falling to the ground. An unusual fatigue and weakness swept through his heart, making him feel like a mortal, closing his eyes and falling asleep forever…
…Wait.
Speaking of which, would my blood loss be this great?
The moment this thought crossed his mind, he realized something was wrong.
“No… wait!”
Suddenly, Count Orléans opened his eyes.
He was still standing well in the hallway where the fog had just dispersed, and the three of them had not yet attacked.
Arsen was not singing, and the Child of the Moon had not taken out the Winter Demon’s scythe.
“…As expected, everything before was an illusion.”
He breathed a sigh of relief, suppressing the fear and lingering dread in his heart. He forced himself to remain calm and composed, saying, “This kind of thing can’t fool me.”
“Oh?”
Seeing this, the Child of the Moon in front of him suddenly revealed a sinister smile, “Are you so sure that you’ve escaped from the illusion?”
“…What?”
Count Orléans’s eyes widened in shock.
He looked down and found a frost mark rapidly spreading from his abdomen to both sides, freezing him into an ice sculpture in the blink of an eye.
The chilling cold caused his thoughts to stagnate.
He didn’t know how long it had been before he realized something was wrong again: If he had been in the hallway before, it meant they had just started fighting, and no one had displayed illusionary abilities at this time.
He was still in the illusion!
So, Count Orléans woke up again.
The chilling cold had penetrated his very bones—he only felt that his limbs were incredibly stiff. Any slight movement would emit creaking, grinding sounds. It was as if they were not flesh and blood, but a clumsy puppet with joints filled with sand.
He appeared in the cold white fog.
At this time, even Arsen had not yet appeared.
—This must be the source of the illusion!
He had been trapped in an illusion from the very beginning! Everything he remembered was false!
Thinking this, Count Orléans decided not to dispel the white fog this time. Instead, he planned to sneak through it and wait for an opportunity to ambush the illusionist.
But as he thought this, he felt his body rapidly losing temperature and forming frost.
Damn it, when did it happen…
—Which one is real?!
As he thought this, his mind fell into stagnation again.
In a trance, Count Orléans seemed to see countless versions of himself.
Himself burned, himself frozen, himself cut in half.
Himself cut into pieces by shadows, himself purified by holy light…
…And himself, deeply trapped in a dream and unable to break free.
Like a spinning kaleidoscope, countless possibilities intertwined in his heart.
—And at this time.
Outside the illusion, Eivass had already put away his scythe.
He was squatting in front of a halved ice sculpture of the Child of the Moon, which was emitting a rainbow glow. He reached out his glowing right hand to touch the ice sculpture’s head—he was reading the other party’s illusion.
At this time, the short sword Salastro was still lying on the ground, having been knocked far away. Arsen, who had been knocked down, had just gotten up from the ground.
The illusion, as deep blue as the sea, disappeared without a trace as Arsen sheathed the short sword Salastro again.
“You need to practice your swordsmanship, Arsen,”
Eivass said leisurely, “Otherwise, I think your father might have an opinion about you—having the family heirloom sword so easily knocked away. You’d best check if it has any nicks.”
“No way…”
Arsen blurted out, but his voice weakened slightly. He had also considered this possibility.
He uncertainly drew his short sword. “No… right…? Eh… it’s true…”
Although the sword itself was fine, the jewel on the scabbard had indeed chipped off a piece. A bull-headed silver ornament also showed obvious friction marks.
Arsen knew that silver was too soft. It was normal for it to be damaged when knocked away with such impact… but wasn’t this sword reinforced with the Preservation Technique?!
“…What happened to him, Eivass?”
Sherlock, standing beside him, frowned and asked with doubt.
He was unaware of the abilities of Star Ice.
In his view, this battle had ended abruptly and caught everyone off guard—
After Count Orléans casually knocked away the short sword with a single staff, the illusion like a tidal wave enveloped everyone.
But immediately after, Eivass condensed a shield that descended from the sky—if a solid ice wall shining with rainbow light could be called a shield—placing it between Arsen and Count Orléans.
Count Orléans, trapped in the illusion, couldn’t see the ice wall at all.
He fiercely struck at the ice wall—and then, his body suddenly stopped moving. The ice wall, like cut diamonds, spread to his body, engulfing him in the blink of an eye.
And Eivass simply walked forward and swung his scythe with incredible ease—
There was no resistance, no deflecting blades, and no dodging.
Count Orléans, frozen into an ice sculpture, was instantly cut in half at the waist.
And the wound withered and lost its color in an instant, turning into a gray-white stone sculpture. The petrified traces spread into the ice sculpture like crystals precipitating in a test tube.
…Is this Fifth Tier?
The enemy was defeated almost without making a single effective attack?
Sherlock felt a sense of unreality.
“Him…”
Eivass chuckled, his gaze icy and indifferent, “is reliving an endless cycle of nightmares.”
“He’s still alive?”
“No, he is already dead. He just hasn’t realized it yet… therefore, his life was preserved by the Box of Nothingness. As he wakes up from the illusion again and again, he will get closer to reality.
“But before that, he will probably lose the will to live.”
The more frenzied he became, the more he exposed his ugliness, the more he refused death… the more he would be abandoned by the Box of Nothingness, thus approaching death.
But the clearer he was, the closer he was to the reality of his own death—
This was an unsolvable dead end.
“So, he is already dead.”
Eivass declared.
(End of Chapter)
