And in the next instant
Razeal’s consciousness flickered.
He blinked. Then
He was no longer in the shop.
The air slled like flowers. He stood in a sprawling garden, vivid and blooming, petals dancing in the wind, sunlight shimring through golden leaves. It looked... peaceful.
"Illusion, huh?" Razeal muttered, rubbing his temples lightly. He could feel it imdiately. This illusion was too weak compared to his ntal resistance. SS-rank ntal stats weren’t just for show. He could shatter this illusion with brute force alone, without needing any counter-skills or techniques.. which ofcourse he doesn’t know.
But still he didn’t.
So he watched, waiting. Maybe there was so hidden complexity. Sothing suspicious. Sothing that might try to tamper with his thoughts, or slip in and manipulate him quietly.
But there was nothing.
Just... nothing.
"This isn’t how illusions are supposed to work," Razeal muttered under his breath.
He stood in the middle of a beautiful garden. Flowers blood in neat rows. Trees swayed gently. It looked familiar. Too familiar. He rembered this place vividly. But this image... it shouldn’t be shown like this. Like its an mory of his.. not of caster or thing he could know.
Illusions weren’t just visual tricks. They were psychological weapons ant to dissolve your ntal defenses, blur your mories, confuse your thoughts. They crept inside your mind, rewrote your perceptions, made you question what was real but showing so clear things like this which aren’t ant to be known by other in any way? just how.
Also Razeal could tell right away this wasn’t real. It wasn’t how a illusion should be. That alone broke the first absolute rule of illusion craft:
Make it real. So real that everyoneand anyone believes it is real.
And this? This didn’t even try to hide. As if the caster didn’t care or just wanted him to know it was fake.
How stupid, Razeal thought, already certain this was done deliberately by Levy. For what reason, he didn’t know. But as far as the knowledge he had about illusions studied from a young age at Virelans this was a major flaw. A clear misuse of illusion art.
Anyways, shaking his head, Razeal stepped forward, already expecting what this illusion was about.
He walked deeper into the strange space, his boots making no sound on the soft, glowing ground. The air shimred faintly with warmth unlike the cold hostility of battle, this place felt almost holy, serene. Too serene. That alone was already suspicious.
Ahead, a gentle scene unfolded. There, sitting in a small, sunlit adow, were three children.
A tiny girl with platinum hair sat among blooming wildflowers, her delicate form glowing faintly as if wrapped in the golden afternoon sun. She looked no older than four or five. Flowers floated gently around her, so caught mid-air, suspended in the warmth of the scene.
In front of her sat a teenager, maybe sixteen, with deep royal purple hair cascading down her back. She was watching over the other two, a calm, gentle smile on her lips.
Then, from the side, another child also about four years old skipped forward. She had radiant golden hair, styled into loose curls, and a crown of daisies sat atop her head like a mark of innocence. Her body exuded a soft, ethereal light, as if she were a being of warmth and light itself.
The golden-haired girl looked straight at Razeal and sprinted toward him with outstretched arms, her giggles like the chiming of bells. Without hesitation, she leaped to embrace him..
but passed right through him.
Razeal didn’t flinch. He kept walking.
The little girl, oblivious to her intangible state, laughed and continued running around him in playful circles. anwhile, the two older girls turned their heads, mouths moving as if speaking to him. He saw them. But he didn’t stop.
His face was emotionless, unreadable mask.
"How... does he even have these mories?" he muttered to himself. His footsteps slowed slightly.
To show illusions of this detail... this precision... these weren’t just guesses. These were real monts intimate, fragile mories. Ones no ordinary person should have access to.
Even for the sake of an illusion, one couldn’t create sothing so accurate without having seen it firsthand or without being inside the person’s mind.
High-tier illusions can do it but requirea either direct access to mories, or an intricate blend of illusion arts, mind-reading, and deep psychological imprinting. Razeal’s mind stat was SS-rank. That level of access shouldn’t be possible especially not for Levy.
And yet, this illusion felt real. Every movent, every scent, every emotion it was too precise.
"Then how did he do it?"
Still walking, Razeal kept his expression still, but his mind spiraled through possibilities like a machine trying to decode a paradox.
The illusion changed.
Scene after scene flickered around him. Days from a life long gone. Laughter. Gas. Small hands tugging on his sleeve. Innocent smiles that ant the world. Monts he never thought he’d see again, now paraded before him like bait on a hook.
He didn’t react. Not even once.
But then everything stopped.
Now, the flowers faded. The children faded. And in their place stood a tall woman with royal blue hair, her back turned to him.
Razeal froze.
He knew ..this won.
His mother.
She turned slowly, her face glowing with the sa loving warmth that haunted his earliest mories. That smile. That voice.
"Ahh... my little featherball is here," she said sweetly, extending her arms as if to embrace him.
Sothing inside him twisted. It wasn’t pain. It was... irritation. The sharp, familiar sting of sothing.
His lips tightened into a thin line.
"This is annoying," he said under his breath.
Razeal raised his hand, fingers clenching the empty air in front of him. With a sharp tug, he ripped through the very fabric of the illusion, tearing it apart like wet parchnt.
The dreamlike world around him shredded and collapsed in on itself, dissolving into static.
Back in the real world, he stood face to face with Levy. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes told a different story. If soone had been close enough to see behind the mask, they’d find a deep, cold annoyance flickering in his gaze.
Levy flinched.
Clutching the left side of his chest, he winced slightly as if struck by so invisible weight.
"You are heartless..." Levy murmured, his voice low and pained.
Razeal smirked.
"You know nothing," he said, his tone dry, dismissive. "It’s black now. And not the sa heart either now. "
Levy’s brows furrowed. He didn’t catch the reference.
But Razeal didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to
Still he stood there, arms loosely at his side, eyes half-lidded with curiosity. "Though I must say, I’m curious," he muttered, watching Levy with faint amusent. "Such a stupid way to use illusion. You basically ignored the first universal rule of illusioncraft."
Levy’s head snapped up, his tone cool but unshaken. "I don’t believe in that rule. I believe an illusion should be so beautiful that even when soone knows it’s an illusion, they still choose to live in it."
Razeal’s expression twitched, a flash of intrigue in his eyes. "Interesting philosophy. And quite interesting. I’ll give you that. Want to show you mine?"
Levy blinked. "Huh?" instinctively taking a step back. Sothing felt wrong.
Too late.
"Killing Illusion," Razeal whispered.
Ti around Levy seed to halt. His movent froze mid-step, arms suspended gegbody froze mid-step It was as though the world locked around him.
---
Inside Levy’s mind, the illusion took form nothing like the warm garden from earlier. This was mory, raw and untad.
An older version of himself was kneeling, one hand resting over his heart, the other placed gently on the shoulder of a child who shared his eye colour.
"This isn’t a sacrifice, my son," the older Levy said softly. "This is a gift. From your father"
The child sniffled, then wept. "I knoow.."
"No crying. This is our fate. A curse we carry..."
His eyes dimd, not with fear but with mory. He had once stood in the boy’s place. Felt the sa grief.
The boy broke into full sobs, collapsing into the older Levy’s arms.
The illusion bled grief, but it was the future?.
---
Outside, a single tear rolled down Levy’s cheek. Then another. His sky-green eyes shimred with sudden emotion as he remained statue-still.
Razeal stood there, silent. Observing.
"I wonder what kind of death he’s seeing... one he fears that much? Must be brutal," Razeal muttered.
"Can’t be the girlfriend thing, right? Last ti he was dramatic about not having one..." he added, smirking slightly, then shook his head. Its just an illusion
Anyways
He shrugged it off. The skill had worked perfectly. Levy was locked in place. Razeal could have ended him a hundred tis over.
But he didn’t.
Monts passed.
Suddenly, Levy inhaled sharply a gasp like surfacing from deep water. He stumbled slightly, breath catching, chest heaving.
"Hahh... Hahh..."
Razeal didn’t react. He rely turned away and started walking toward the stairs. "Well. That was illusinating."
But then..
"Here. Take this. I don’t want it." Levy’s voice cracked as he tossed the special pouch of elental cores toward Razeal’s back with hard force as furious. He was trembling
Razeal caught it without looking, then turned slowly. His brow furrowed. "What happened now?"
"I don’t need it," Levy replied. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his sleeve, adjusting his glasses with trembling hands. "Keep it."
For a second, Razeal looked like he might actually ask why. But then, with a soft scoff, he tossed the bag right back into Levy’s arms.
"You’re not the only one with principles," Razeal muttered.
The two stood there for a mont a common dude and a trickster. Staring at each other.
"Keep it... big boy. And get sothing to eat. Rember, that was the job I gave you," Razeal said, casually tossing the special bag of elental cores back at Levy. "Consider it your paynt."
Levy caught the pouch again, fingers tightening instinctively around the weight of it. He looked down not at the wealth inside, but at what it represented. Thirty-one million third-ranked elental cores. Enough money to buy small town. Enough to retire and never work again. Enough to live like a king.
And yet...
Without a word, Threw the pouch.
Not at Razeal.
Not even toward him.
He flung it across the room, hard, where it hit the wooden floor and rolled into the corner near the door. The thud echoed, louder than it should’ve been. The silence afterward hung in the air like fog.
"I said I don’t need it," Levy muttered, straightening his suit collar with slow, deliberate hands. "And as for your food don’t worry. I gave my word. And when I give my word, I keep it."
Razeal stood there for a mont, eyes resting on the corner where the pouch lay still.
A single spaceal bag holding more power and money than this this dude was going to earn in his whole life.
That kind of pride wasn’t bought. It was carved into the bone.
Razeal’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze lingered on Levy quiet, unreadable. Then finally:
"I see. Do as you like."
With that, he turned around and walked back upstairs. Silent footsteps, no further words.
The bag remained in the corner, untouched.
---
Yoo, lovely author back here fhew And once again, I hate putting out privilege.
This shit fucks up. Anyways, thanks for reading, guys.
Please don’t forget Golden Tickets and Power Stones. Well, gotta take this upfront...
And the two Chapters we missed these past two days were in order to prepare this privilege it’s done now.
And five extra Chapters for Castle by Hmalmorished they’ll be here before next Sunday. It takes ti to write Chapters, lovely readers. Please understand. It’s not smut or a free willed harem I can’t just keep writing nonstop. My brain cells burn out when writing this...
Anyways, I’d like to announce our last month’s Golden Ticket contributors:
Hmalmorished – over 51 tickets
Telephotolee – 30
Count_Alucard – 20
Thank you guys for the support! Also, to everyone who contributes I really appreciate it. Love ya all.
and fhewww finally done with it..
---
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