Chapter 359: 359. Practical Illusion

Much was unknown about the effects of familiars in the real world. The resources in the ring library were scarce, to say the least. From what Nil had shared, the only known cases of having them materialize in the real world were thanks to magic; thus, a mage with a familiar could, with enough skill and effort, have a familiar manifest in the real world for a limited amount of time. In theory, the Order of the Seven Moons could do so as well though other means, but they seldom resorted to that. The closest to an exception had been the third guardian of the aura sword realm, although it remained uncertain whether the Order had existed that far back.

Since giving Nox a realm of his own, Dallion had a few ideas how things worked. For starters, it was clear that the item in question shared some of the familiar’s abilities: the Nox dagger could create cracks on anything it touched, just as the kaleidervisto could light up with healing flames. When it came to Gleam’s blade, Dallion was entering new territory. This was the first case in which the effects of the skill were supposed to last beyond the contact. Given that the tattooed man hadn’t given him any choice, now was the time to find out.

Best start with something simple, dear boy, Nil suggested. For example, change—

The whip blade transformed into an axe.

—the color of your weapon, the echo finished. I suppose shape works just as well.

Dallion slid his finger along the edge of the axe. It felt quite sharp. In fact, Dallion distinctly felt the sensation of cutting himself. Upon pulling his finger away, however, he saw that there was no blood there, not even a scar.

It felt so real, Dallion whispered.

What did you expect? Gleam asked, a note of annoyance in her voice. In the wilderness, illusions must affect all senses, or they aren’t any illusions at all.

Aware how Hannah would react if he left blade marks on her floor, Dallion struck the armadil shield with his “axe.” The moment the axe touched the shield, the illusion was shattered, revealing the whip blade in all its glory. These had to be the limits of an illusion: attempting to perform something impossible.

“Make it into a coin.” Dallion touched the shield with the tip of his blade.

After he blinked, the shield had completely disappeared. Instead, there was a small golden could directly beneath the tip of the blade.

Slowly, Dallion moved the sword away. The coin remained there. The moment he attempted to pick it up, though, the illusion was shattered. That was both good and bad: it means that Dallion would be able to transform a person’s face into something else. However, the moment anyone tried to touch that person’s face, the illusion would be shattered, revealing the face’s true nature.

How long does the illusion last? Dallion asked.

In my current form, I’m not sure. Before I was captured, I could maintain an illusion for days, possibly weeks.

Guess it’s time to find out.

There were still forty minutes until the meeting time. Given that it might take five minutes for Dallion to reach the meeting place—say ten with the expected crowds during lunch—Dallion had half an hour for tests.

Turn it into a person from the crowd, Dallion said as he slid the tip of the whip blade along the mirror in the room.

As expected, the object transformed into a person. Dallion didn’t remember seeing him, but the man looked realistic enough, staring blankly forward. Gleam had added quite a lot of minor details to make the illusion realistic—the man was breathing, blinking, and occasionally turning about as if looking at something particular. There was no doubt about it, the shardfly’s ability was extraordinary. No wonder she had survived in the wilderness for so long. The question was whether this new illusion would be able to last long enough for the escape to take place. If the mirror could maintain being human for half an hour, or even half that, all was going to be fine.

I look stupid, the mirror told Dallion.

We all go through different phases, Dallion replied.

One of the rings that the tattooed man had been wearing had made him invisible to all guardians, making the mirror wonder the reason for the sudden change. Dallion, of course, had no intention of explaining things. The fewer guardians that knew about the visit, the better.

It took ten minutes for the illusion to shatter. It started with small things: the wrinkles on the face disappeared, the hair became more monotonous, then expressions became cyclic, then suddenly the entire person disappeared as the mirror regained its normal form.

Ten minutes was less than Dallion wanted, but hopefully enough for someone to reach the gate and pass through.

Aren’t you going to say anything, Nil? Dallion asked. No comments on what a bad idea this is?

Do I need to state the obvious, dear boy? Besides, it’s not like you have a choice in the matter. If someone is willing to go as far as using your friends as pawns, they’ll be ready to go further.

Taking a deep breath, Dallion left the room. He had left the armadil shield behind, just as he had only taken those weapons that had familiar guardians. Even if the tattooed man wasn’t suspicious, leaving the city while geared up to that extent was bound to attract attention.

Dallion arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early. Initially, he had wanted to scout the place. Instead, he had found it empty. The Broken Chestnut, as it turned out, was a repair shop. Being so close to the gate gave the mirror pool a perfect excuse to scout the items of unsuspected visitors under the pretext of repairing them. Dallion wouldn’t be surprised if some of the more notable items ended up being snatched by pickpockets and making their way to Grey Harbor.

Trying to appear as casual as possible, Dallion opened the door and stepped in. No sooner had he done so when a person stepped out from the inner room.

“Veil?” Dallion asked, surprised.

“Hey, Dal,” the blond replied. Dallion could feel the shame and anger burning inside him. “Sorry about this.”

“Where is he?”

“He’ll be here. I can guarantee that much. The rat wants to leave the city really bad.”

Dallion nodded. “How did this happen?”

“He jumped Gloria last night. There wasn’t a thing we could do, his level is four times ours at least.”

You really should have taken your double-digit trial, Dallion thought. “It’s fine,” he said instead. “We’ll get this over with.”

“I certainly hope so.” The man emerged from the back room. Initially, his face was blurred, though soon enough it reverted to its familiar features. “Ready to do this?”

Dallion drew his sword. Moving closer, he moved the tip of the weapon towards the man’s face.

“Careful,” the man said. “Slip now and you won’t get your cure.”

Dallion considered it. It would be so easy for him to shove the sword through the other’s neck. At this distance, and with enough combat instances, there was every chance that the attack succeeded. However, that wouldn’t help one bit in the grand scheme of things.

The tip of the blade touched the man’s forehead, then carefully slid it down his face, shirt, all the way to his left boot. As it did, the transformation took place. The man’s features changed radically, changing his build, height, and skin tone. A few moments later, a well-off tourist in his twenties stood in the room.

“There.” Dallion stepped back.

The man looked at himself.

“Not a woman?” he asked.

“That increases the risk of the illusion being broken. The closer you are to your original self, the better.”

“Not my first choice, but beggars can’t be choosers. Come on, let’s go out back.”

A wagon with two horses was waiting for them out in the street. Careful not to touch anything, the man had Veil close and lock the shop, then hide the key near the entrance.

“The drill is simple,” the man said. “I’ve been hired by Veil to bring materials to his village. You two are with me to see me off. Once we’re done, you go back in and we all live to see another day.”

“Sounds too simple.” Dallion crossed his arms.

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“Sounds plausible. Veil has been doing that before, so no one will suspect. All you have to do is not blow it.”

Veil clenched his fists. There was only one winner in this arrangement, and it wasn’t him. Still, there was nothing he or Dallion could do. The two waited for the man to settle in the wagon, after which Dallion took the reins of the horse.

From then on, the slow walk to the city gate began. There were about several thousand feet to the city limits. Ironically, due to the festival, this part of town had become much less congested than most. With events taking place, most of the people were heading further in than leaving. Of course, that didn’t mean that there weren’t guards walking about the streets.

“Just relax,” Dallion said, seeing Veil glance at a patrolling pair. “Everything’s fine.”

“Never thought there’d be a day when you were the calm one,” the other whispered.

“I’ve always been calm and collected,” Dallion lied to ease the tension. “Think of it as another deal that will make the people back home happy.”

“Yeah. Another deal…”

Each step seemed to last forever. It had taken a minute for the group to half the distance to the city gate. It felt like hours. Everyone’s impulse was to dash forward, consequences be damned, but they held that desire in check.

Soon it’ll be over, Dallion told himself. Just a few minutes more.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” Veil whispered all of a sudden. “I couldn’t achieve what you did.”

“Hey, if it’s any consolation, I couldn’t have won either. Some fights are just too—"

“I’m not talking about a fight,” Veil interrupted. “I’m… never mind.”

The guards gave them a passing glance as the wagon passed by. One even greeted Veil casually. Apparently, the tattooed man wasn’t exaggerating when he said that Veil had been buying materials for the village a lot since arriving in Nerosal. Dallion half expected one of the guards on duty to recognize him from the arena fights, but for better or worse, they didn’t. Half a minute later, the wagon was outside.

We did it? Dallion asked. That was way too easy, to the point that he was bracing for some calamity to happen.

“Move to this side,” the tattooed man said to Dallion as he stopped the wagon.

“What’s wrong?”

“I want to make sure you keep your part of the bargain.”

“We’re already outside.”

“The city walls, not the domain itself. Why do you think I brought you along? Even with the festival going on, the Mayor follows who enters and leaves his zone of influence. The only thing that would keep me hidden is the presence of an otherworlder.”

Dallion froze. This was the first time he was addressed as such openly. It was expected that the mirror pool would have that information, but Veil for certain didn’t. Now that he knew, would things between him and Dallion remain the same?

“Grab my hand,” the man said. “For the sake of the barrier I’ll be considered your property.”

There was a long moment of hesitation.

“Come on. You’ve already come this far.”

The note of fear in the man’s voice was apparent. It seemed that it wasn’t the gate or the guards that terrified him, but the barrier itself. Dallion could easily end it all now by refusing to do this simple request. In the end, he did, though. Holding the other’s hand, they went on for another fifty feet, until suddenly an unexpected weight was removed from him. It was like coming out of water for the first time to realize how freer one’s actions were in air.

“Thanks.” The man pulled back his hand. The illusion broken, the tattoos emerged on his skin. “There’s a backpack of green leather back there,” he said to Veil. “There are five vials of liquid inside. You’ll need one each. Keep the rest just in case, or sell it. I don’t care.”

“That’s it?” Dallion asked.

“Never cross a chosen of the Moons,” the man said. “Those that do don’t tend to live for long. I’ve kept part of my deal and now it’s time for the rest.” He glanced briefly at the city walls, as if to make sure no one was chasing after him. “There’s a Star cult in the city. Normally the pool deals with one or two of them, but this time they’re in the city by the dozens.”

“I know that already,” Dallion said. “They were the ones behind the artifact exploration deaths.”

“The overseer seems to believe that, but she’s wrong. The cult aren’t the ones causing it. In fact, at least not directly. It might be said that they’ve suffered just as much. The truth is, they are searching for something and have been so for months.”

“For what?”

“Artifacts. The more exotic, the better. The ring was of particular importance. Or should I say rings.”

Dallion’s eyes widened.

“That’s right, there are several of them. A lot of people died trying to clear them. Now that they have them, they’ll release the copyette at the height of the festival and unleash it on the countess.”

That was clearly not going to happen. Dallion knew full well who the copyette was, and the Vermillion tears had nothing to do with his release. Whatever reason they had for using the rings was just as bad, if not worse.

“The cult was the cause of the flood of artifacts that has filled the city. Or at least they were. Before my unfortunate demise, they let us know that they weren’t interested in buying or exploring anymore. Whatever they were searching for, they clearly found it.”

“And they decided to kill off all the loose ends.”

“No, it’s not they who tried to kill me. The Order did.”

This came as a shock. Dallion knew what the Order represented and had a vague idea of their philosophy. However, he hadn’t imagined them as aggressive as that, not within the city limits at the very least.

“They got involved? But there was one of their own among the killed.”

“Who says that cultists can’t infiltrate the Order? It’s all a matter of time. If the cleric had been more careful, she’d have been able to survive a few more weeks. I guess they learned about the rest of the participants from her, so they took out the entire circle.”

“Except me…”

“You’re fine. Your stupid attempts to find the copyette saved your life. That and the fact that you’re the chosen of a Moon. The Order tends to leave those alone as much as they can. The only person who they haven’t been able to track down is the seller.”

“The man without a face,” Dallion said.

“Or woman. Even I don’t know their identity. All I know was that they were referenced by the general and had the goods.”

Why am I not surprised? Dallion thought. Naturally, the general would be involved. There hardly were significant artifact deals that didn’t go through him. The fact that he was still alive suggested that the Order of the Seven Moons didn’t consider him part of the Star cult.

“With that, our dealings are concluded,” the man said. “If you want my advice, get out of the city fast. I’ve no idea what the cultists are planning, but it spooked the prince of the pool enough to flee. Even if I didn’t have the Order chasing after me, I’d probably have left as well.”

That’s the difference between you and me, Dallion thought. I’m not okay with letting a city die without trying to stop it.

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