The Superior Rebirth: A Hero's Awakening

Butterflies of Deception

Now, just as Graviil decapitated Percival, he immediately noticed something strange. Percival's body began to dissipate like timeless, untouched butterflies.

"An illusion?" Graviil thought, instantly drawing Zadkiel back and readying himself. He could feel the faint pressure of Percival's trick gnawing at his senses, but his divine aura held him steady—a safeguard earned from knowing Eternal Illusion too well. "How could I forget... he's a man of complicated prowess."

"I must keep my attention sharp before his ability attempts to fully entraps my mind, perception, and even my sixth sense. If he succeeds, it will be nearly impossible to escape—or even know whether I'm in a false world, striking at shadows, or still in reality."

Percival reappeared once more—but this time, there were several of him. Each moved like the original, so convincingly real that they might as well have been physical clones.

The mirages charged forward, swarming Graviil. He braced himself, cautious and calculating, unable to discern the real one. A sudden kick slammed into his side, forcing him back a step.

Percival pressed his advantage, striking again and again. His blows weren't wild; each one was deliberate, precise, and deceitful, slipping past Graviil's guard with uncanny timing.

Graviil swung his sword in retaliation, nearly grazing Percival's throat. Percival twisted away at the last second, beads of sweat running down his temple, though his cocky smile never wavered.

His eyes lingered on Zadkiel, clearly wary of the blade. Graviil exhaled and calmly lowered his weapon. Zadkiel shimmered, then dissipated into a haze of light.

He would defeat Percival one way or another—even if it meant using his fists.

Percival's grin widened at the sight. "You honor me, my Lord. To face me on equal ground, even when you hold the advantage—how very generous."

Graviil did not answer. His fist shattered the air with a thunderous boom, surging toward Percival. The enemy reacted swiftly, clashing fist-to-fist with equal force.

"I just had to face Graviil today," Percival thought bitterly, tension hidden beneath his mocking tone. "I wasn't prepared for this. Not today."

"My illusions don't work as well on those who already understand 'Eternal Illusion.' It takes far longer to infiltrate their minds, to break their will completely."

"The only ones who truly know my ability... are Lord Graviil."

"And Jonathan." His expression soured at the thought of his brother's name.

"Just my luck."

Their battle raged on, hand-to-hand, each strike reverberating like thunder. Percival muttered under his breath, "No point whining about how the board was set. I'll just have to buy time."

He lashed out with a kick. Graviil blocked it, but Percival flipped backward, gaining distance. His hand reached behind him, retrieving a weapon half-hidden in his belt.

A flintlock.

He fired rapidly. Graviil's eyes narrowed in confusion, struck by the sheer unfamiliarity of the weapon. He had never seen its like.

Dodging came easily—until one bullet slipped past his notice. His gaze remained fixed on the weapon itself, too curious, too distracted. He raised his arm, confident the shot would shatter harmlessly against his skin.

But it didn't.

The bullet shimmered oddly, drinking in a fraction of his ethereal aura as it struck. Its glow shifted to an unnatural hue before piercing the skin of his arm, shallow yet undeniable.