CHAPTER 112: TRIAD VS. TRICKSTER

The figure halted his laughter for a quick second—his porcelain mask tilting ever so slightly, as if in mock confusion.

But he quickly recovered in an instant, his shoulders shaking with renewed mirth.

Two cards shimmered into existence between his fingers, one bearing the symbol of a king, and the other a rook, the ivory surfaces gleaming under the flickering magical light of the arena.

Just like before.

But this time, he used them differently.

"Castle!" he howled, voice echoing across the chamber like a bell in a cathedral.

With a lazy flick of his arm, the rook-shaped card snapped into position before him—a phantom chessboard glinting to life—the twin barrage of fire and water colliding against it. The spell effects shattered and dispersed like harmless mist, the wall of energy humming with quiet triumph.

’He has the same power as the one from before!’

Marcus’s mind reeled, but his body acted on instinct—he lunged, twin daggers blazing with rune-light, each etched with power meant for far stronger foes.

He pursued relentlessly, boots cracking stone, daggers dancing in a deadly blur. But the masked figure was already in motion, reacting with that same alien fluidity—dodging each strike with a smooth, inhuman weave, like his body was more water than flesh.

While Marcus kept him engaged with sharp, precise slashes, Victoria moved—her boots barely whispering against the floor as she sprinted behind the masked figure, already preparing a pincer strike.

She signaled Cynthia with a swift, practiced hand gesture.

Cynthia understood instantly.

She raised her hand, eyes glowing. "Haste! Strength! Clear-Mind!" she incanted, her voice cutting through the din of battle like a blade.

Runes bloomed in the air—three circles of radiant energy enveloping Marcus. His body flared with light—crimson, blue, and golden hues pulsing across his limbs. His speed surged, strength multiplied, and his focus locked in.

But it still didn’t help.

The masked figure dodged effortlessly, slipping past Marcus’s enhanced movements like a shadow made of silk.

"This is starting to get boring..." the masked figure drawled, tilting his head as if watching a rehearsal.

"Then watch this!" Victoria yelled, her voice fierce and defiant.

With a snap of her fingers, the ground behind him exploded in flame—a fiery phoenix rising from her magic circle, wings of molten energy spreading wide. Its shriek cut through the air like a war cry.

She winked at Marcus just as the creature shot forward, wings crackling with heat.

’So that’s her plan? Simple... but might work.’

Marcus backed away again, his daggers retreating—but only to prepare.

A rune appeared on his forehead, blazing with orange and sickly dark red light—a fusion of his combustion rune and the necrotic rune he’d barely mastered.

"Want to have fun? Then let’s have fun!"

Marcus exhaled sharply—and then unleashed it.

A concentrated beam of combustive wind, swirling with decay and rot, tore forward—warping the air as it screamed toward the masked figure.

And then Cynthia moved too.

She grinned wide, stepping forward. "Think we didn’t think that far ahead?"

With a whip of her arm, the water pooled beneath the masked figure began to ripple, twist, then rise—slithering upward like snakes, forming liquid chains that snapped around his arm, holding tight.

"Show us a miracle!" she yelled, casting another barrage—this time a torrent of water laced with lightning, each stream glowing white-blue with raw voltage.

The masked figure’s laughter returned—mad and delighted.

Another card flashed into his hand, this one engraved with a horse piece.

"Creative... but not enough."

He flicked it forward like a coin, activating it mid-air.

"Galloping Wind!"

With a blast of shimmering confetti, he vanished—the chains exploding into steam—only to reappear an instant later in an L-shaped arc, blurring toward Cynthia like a knight on a warpath.

The combined attacks—Marcus’s beam, Cynthia’s barrage, and Victoria’s phoenix—collided behind him in a cataclysmic blast of flame, water, and sound.

"I’ll get you first!" he screamed, lunging toward Cynthia with wild glee.

But Marcus moved first.

He slammed his hand against the ground.

With a deep rumble, a massive wall of stone surged up in front of Cynthia, shielding her at the last second.

"Quick!" Marcus shouted.

Victoria responded instantly.

"Incinerate Max!"

She extended both hands, runes igniting in front of her—then hundreds of fiery tendrils shot out like serpents, each one homing in on the masked figure with terrifying speed.

The masked figure clicked his tongue, darting into motion once again, weaving between tendrils, his movement more evasive than aggressive now.

"Quite the synergy..." he muttered. His grin widened beneath the mask. He ran instead of fought—choosing motion over impact, like a dancer refusing to meet the music.

Cynthia, hidden behind the stone wall, smirked.

Using the moment, she cast another spell—spreading water across the battlefield, so thin and precise it was near invisible.

A trap.

"Try running now!" she shouted from behind the wall.

The water on the floor reacted instantly, morphing into sticky tendrils that snapped onto the masked figure’s boots mid-run. His pace faltered, traction lost.

"Another one?" he muttered, annoyance in his voice for the first time.

He pulled out another card—this one etched with a pawn.

He threw it at Victoria’s incoming tendrils.

The pawn froze mid-air, glowing ominously—and then absorbed the tendrils, nullifying the attack in a sudden burst of vacuum pressure.

Marcus saw the opening.

Then he moved—his steps swift and unhindered, his boots gliding effortlessly across the slick, watery surface.

The masked figure, bogged down by Cynthia’s trap, was the only one affected now—his footing clumsy, momentum stolen.

Marcus narrowed his eyes, blades gleaming in his grip.

He might finally be close enough to catch him—maybe even land a clean strike.

He lunged again, both daggers drawn, aiming to split the masked figure in two.

A clean strike.

A kill move.

But in a sheer, unexpected twist—

The masked figure jumped, tearing off his boots in a single fluid motion. He twisted mid-air, barefoot, laughing as he soared over Marcus’s slash.

"Nice try! Needs more creativity." he cackled.