The scoreboard quickly changed once again, and my name reappeared in large letters beside the man in his thirties.
Our names were chanted by the crowd as I made my way toward the arena.
I could feel the adrenaline beginning to overpower my fear.
As I took my position in front of my opponent, a thought crossed my mind despite the adrenaline.
Now that I had made it this far in the tournament, I could no longer say that my talent for combat was inferior to the other contestants.
That would be disrespectful to them. I had to believe I had a chance.
Believing otherwise would be betraying myself.
"Begin!"
The referee's booming voice echoed through my ears.
Fueled by the rush of adrenaline, I immediately charged at my opponent.
Just as my sword was about to make contact with his chest, the man in front of me smiled.
A forced smile.
I felt a strange tingling in his gaze that instantly shattered all of my confidence.
My sword made contact with the man's stomach, but he didn't seem affected in the slightest.
At the same moment, I felt an enormous blow crash into my stomach, instantly knocking the breath out of me.
I was launched backward by the force of the impact.
I curled into a ball, clutching my stomach as I rolled several meters, leaving a cloud of dust behind me.
My stomach hurt terribly. The blow had been so powerful that if I took another one like it, I would probably lose consciousness from the pain.
I slowly got back to my feet, using my sword for support.
My opponent, meanwhile, was still standing motionless in the center of the arena.
However, he was no longer smiling like before.
This time, his face wore the expression of a twisted man who took pleasure in watching others suffer.
Once I was back on my feet, I charged toward him again.
He still didn't react.
I had to figure out what kind of technique he was using.
As I started my attack, I changed direction at the last second, transferred all of my ether into my legs, and vanished from his sight.
Appearing behind him, I struck his back with all my strength.
The instant my blade seemed to connect, I received a violent blow to my lower back that sent me flying sideways.
The crowd erupted.
I coughed up blood as I got back to my feet.
How had he moved so...
My train of thought was interrupted by something strange.
Something wasn't right.
The man was still standing in the center of the arena and hadn't moved an inch.
Even if he had moved at incredible speed, his footprints should have remained visible in the dirt. Yet since the beginning of the fight, he had stayed in exactly the same place.
I quickly swept my gaze across the arena.
No wires.
No traps.
No hidden weapons.
Nothing.
Then...
My pupils contracted.
The hits.
Every time I thought I'd struck him...
I slowly lowered my eyes to my sword.
There wasn't the slightest trace of blood on the blade.
I had never touched him.
Not even grazed him.
My heart began beating faster and faster.
"So you've finally started thinking."
His voice was calm.
"I was afraid you'd keep charging until you passed out."
An even more sadistic smile appeared on his face.
"Even though that was my plan from the very beginning."
I clenched my teeth.
Why was he telling me his strategy?
If he really needed me to attack first before he could hit me, then all I had to do was wait for him to make the first move.
No.
My gaze shifted to the clock above the arena.
Fifty-five minutes remained.
Even though no match was supposed to last that long, there still seemed to be a time limit. If neither of us won before then, we would both lose.
So why was he revealing it?
There were only three possible explanations.
1. He was so confident in his strategy that revealing it wouldn't compromise it in the slightest.
2. His strategy required me to understand it in order for it to work.
3. He was a psychopath.
But even knowing that, I still couldn't understand how he was attacking me without letting me touch him.
If it were only a visual illusion, I would have sensed the absence of his aura. Yet his mass of ether was clearly present in the center of the arena.
So why had I been so certain I'd struck him the first time?
I closed my eyes for a brief moment.
I let my ether flow through my telluric channels, deliberately ignoring my sight to focus on my other senses.
After a few seconds, the mass of ether in front of me felt strange.
Unlike my own aura, which gently rippled, his remained completely motionless.
As if frozen in space.
As if it wasn't alive.
I abruptly opened my eyes.
The man was still standing motionless before me, the same sick smile at the corner of his lips.
"Looking for something?"
Something was wrong.
As if...
Suddenly, a detail caught my eye, as though something had unlocked inside my mind.
His shadow.
It was perfectly still, even though the wind made his coat flutter slightly.
His shadow looked like a dark shape painted directly onto the ground.
As if...
At that moment, a flash of realization crossed my mind.
Without thinking any further, I poured all of my ether into my legs and leaped—not toward the man, but to the side.
At that exact moment, a fist tore through the air precisely where I had been standing a fraction of a second earlier.
The shockwave brushed across my face.
I immediately turned around to face my attacker.
Behind me stood a second man.
The real one.
His fist was still extended through the air.
He slowly clenched it, savoring the bitterness of a failed strike.
He had exactly the same face.
The same clothes.
Even the smallest wrinkle.
Only his eyes were different.
They no longer held the theatrical madness of his clone.
His gaze was cold.
Calculating.
Without giving me time to catch my breath, he disappeared.
A sharp pain exploded through my ribs.
Then another in my shoulder.
Then a third behind my knee.
I couldn't see a single one of his movements.
Each impact came from a different direction.
I gritted my teeth as I endured another blow that made me stagger.
Think!
If the first one was only a decoy, then why not use it to fight alongside him?
In the middle of combat, I would never be able to focus on their eyes long enough to tell them apart.
No.
It wasn't just a decoy.
He wanted me to look at it.
He wanted all of my attention focused on it.
Meanwhile, the real fighter could attack from any angle.
I slowly raised my sword.
Then, completely against all logic, I turned my back entirely on the fake man.
Whispers immediately spread through the stands.
"Has he gone crazy...?"
"Is he giving up?"
My eyes swept only across the dust on the ground.
The real opponent could hide his presence.
He could be faster than me.
But he couldn't make invisible either his footprints...
...or his aura.
I closed my eyes, plunging myself into darkness.