“On top of that, you are the first person ever who tried to undress me and my shades.” Mogar said.
“Too bad. I thought that maybe I could defeat your puppets with just my mind, but if I can’t affect even their clothes, then I doubt that I can restrict them or inflict them damage.” Despite his words, he had yet to stop his endeavor.
“I might consider your claim as a noble pursuit of knowledge if not for the fact that you’re not even trying to affect Arthan or Menadion.” Mogar scoffed at the blatant lie.
“You can’t blame a man for trying. I just need to touch them, correct?” He asked.
“Correct.”
Morok dashed forward against the Quylla-shaped answer who looked at him in disgust as if he was a worm she had found in her meal. He unsheathed the Baby Fangs, making them take the form of twin one-handed battle hammers.
He threw them one after the other so that the first eclipsed the second. Quylla had Bloodbind, the Adamant chains forged by Orion, form a defensive barrier around her, blocking the first hammer as well as her field of vision.
The second hammer flew under the makeshift barrier, hitting her right in the stomach and making her cough out blood. Yet instead of exploiting the opening, Morok just had the first hammer return to his hand and thew it again.
Quylla snarled as she stopped it with a hard-light construct shaped like a massive fist that came out of her robe.
“Nalrond was right. Your puppets cannot move and hits don’t count as touching.” Morok pondered.
“If they moved, you’d be already dead. If hitting and touching were the same, then any idiot who gets pummelled would get their answer, making this whole trial pointless.” Mogar said. “I applaud you for mercilessly attacking the woman you claim to like.”
“Please. Your two-bit imitation is nothing like the real deal. It lacks Quylla’s kind eyes, the grace of her movements, and the lavender scent of her soap. I have no problems hitting a mannequin dressed like her.” Morok said.
“That and the real Quylla is holding your shoulder even now, making it easy for you to separate reality from illusion.” Mogar pointed out.
“Guilty as charged.” Morok circled around shade-Quylla, trying to make his magic work while looking for an opening.
“How did you know about the trap?” Mogar asked with an amused expression.
“The Magus robe gave it away. I’m not fighting the real Quylla but either how she perceives herself or how I do. Either way, she’s bound to be a tough nut to crack.”
Morok threw his hammers again, but this time Quylla used her construct to stop them while conjuring the tier five Battle Mage spell, God of Water.
A full armor made of ice covered her body while four spheres of water the size of a disco ball orbited around her. They would allow Quylla to replicate the effects of all tier three and four water magic spells she could imagine without the need to cast them.
Yet the hammers dodged the construct and aimed for Arthan. Morok had lined them up so that he could attack them both and further check the rules of the game. Quylla froze in place and ignored the Tyrant while the Mad King snarled in outrage.
Despite the thick chains that restricted his movements, Arthan managed to catch the hammers in mid-air and throw them back at their owner.
“That’s it? This is going to be a walk in the park!” Morok unleashed a tier Five War Mage spell, Collapsing Volcano, turning the ground under the three shades into magma.
Then, he shapeshifted into his idealized Tyrant form, with his body covered in mystical eyes instead of having just four eyes. Each one of them emitted a pillar of energy, striking at all the answers at the same time.
As a finishing touch, he also activated the tier five Battle Mage spell, God of Air. The stream of lightning bolts used the very armor Quylla wore to slip under her protections and hit her with their full strength before she could react.
The hammers thrown by Arthan hit Morok right in the chest, but they went through him as if they were just an illusion.
“I wield no hammers hence they can’t harm me. Those are a part of me just like the clothes I wear.” Morok said as the Baby Fangs emerged from his hands, already shapeshifted into longswords.
“Yet mine surely can. Get your filthy hands off my daughter, you ungrateful bastard!” Menadion said while charging at him with the speed of a missile.
Morok managed to block her hammer by turning the swords into shields, but the Fury shattered them, inflicting him a huge blow. As Morok had said, there were no shields, just parts of him.
Quylla exploited the opening to catch him by the legs with Bloodbind and unleashed constructs the size of a mountain.
“Even if you kill me, my legacy will live forever!” Arthan conjured both the Sword of Saefel and the Royal armor, activating all the six gemstones at the same time.
A rainbow of raging Griffons filled the air and continued their attack even after Morok dispelled the Collapsing Volcano. He had hoped that by changing the target, the shades would stop their attack and allow him to pile up damage.
Their reaction, however, proved that each attack triggered a counter that couldn’t be interrupted, making his strategy pointless.
“That’s my cue!” Morok waved Mogar goodbye and broke the mind link before the shades turned his psyche into dust. His relief, however, was short-lived. Somehow, one of the shades had managed to follow him to the real world and was clutching at his throat.
Too surprised to even curse at his enemy, Morok jumped back, crashing against the wall. Unlike the mindscape, the cave didn’t extend endlessly.
“What’s wrong with you? I was just checking your vitals.” Quylla said, snapping him out of his combat frenzy.
“Dammit, I was so focused fighting against you that I forgot you are also my ally.” Those words didn’t make sense even to Morok himself, but he didn’t know how to explain the situation in any other way.
He refused to answer any of Quylla’s questions until they got back to their house inside the Dewan village. Even though he had taken little damage from the shades, the mind link with Mogar had taken a toll on his body.
On top of that, Morok needed some time to sort out his thoughts before sharing his experience. The fight had been brief, but there had been many things that he had noticed but couldn’t figure out while pushing his mind to its limits.
“I think that either the game is rigged or we played it without knowing its rules.” Morok said after quite some pondering. “Asking questions to Mogar only leads to a painful death.
“Not only in the Mindscape one has to focus to perform the simplest of spells or conjure their weapons, but also Mogar keeps bothering you with her ramblings.”
“While resting I had a lot of time to think about my own conversation with the planet and I think you are right.” Nalrond said. “Tell me everything that happened to you without leaving out any detail.”
