Kaito's blade sliced across the monster's wrist.
–121.
The damage floated weakly above its head. This strike carried far less weight than before, and—worse—no bleeding effect followed. The weakening debuff was slowing his execution, dulling what should have been a precise nerve strike.
But Kaito wasn't the only one pressing forward.
Mei rin seized the opening, her bowstring thrumming like a storm. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Three feathered arrows flew every second, each whistling with deadly precision.
-425!
-485!
-418!
She aimed relentlessly at the back of the monster's head—the weakest point of its current illusionary form. With every shot, solid damage values stacked above its health bar, forcing the beast onto the defensive.
"Damn it!" The yellow-skinned monster roared in fury.
The next moment, a faint light shimmered across its body, a ripple of energy distorting the air. Before Kaito's eyes, the hulking demon dissolved. Standing in its place was no longer the grotesque weasel, but a long-legged beauty in a flowing gauze dress. Her curvaceous figure, skin pale as snow, and eyes filled with a soft, mesmerizing gleam radiated an otherworldly allure.
Her lips curved into a smile, half-playful, half-seductive. With a graceful motion, she lifted her hand and beckoned.
"My lord," she purred, her voice honey-sweet and laced with charm. "Come… play with me."
Kaito frowned, his expression tightening. He didn't even need to think twice—this was clearly an illusion. In his past life, he had never personally fought this monster, so he lacked direct experience with this particular trick. Back then, he had only read about it and assumed he could handle it if the time came. But now, faced with the real thing, he realized just how formidable the illusion truly was.
If one's mind wasn't firm enough, they could be trapped in this fabricated dreamscape, unable to tell reality from deception. Kaito steadied his breathing. Stay true to yourself. Break it. That was the only way.
The method, in truth, was simple—though far from pleasant. He had to use his imagination to strip away the disguise, to associate the curvaceous, long-legged beauty before him with its real form: a three-meter-tall, hairy, foul-smelling weasel.
Kaito let his mind twist the image. The graceful woman's elegant movements became the clumsy preening of a beast. Her enchanting smile warped into the grotesque leer of a rodent baring yellowed fangs.
"Urgh!" His stomach churned violently. Just picturing the weasel posing seductively made bile rise in his throat. He nearly retched on the spot.
The "beauty" blinked in shock, clearly unsettled. What's wrong with this guy? Did he just—reject me outright? For a brief moment, the illusion itself faltered. Then, as if the monster had drawn the wrong conclusion, the image warped again.
Now a handsome young man stood before Kaito, casually dribbling a basketball, his movements smooth and rhythmic, sweat gleaming on his toned arms. He leaned closer, his smirk confident and charming.
Kaito's face twisted. "Urgh!" The sheer absurdity of imagining the weasel trying to act like some athlete heartthrob made him want to vomit all over again. This damned beast is mocking me!
Enough was enough. His eyes sharpened, and in an instant, sixteen sword shadows burst forth, each locking onto one of the monster's vital points with pinpoint precision.
–2,052!
The numbers floated up in rapid succession. One blade in particular struck a critical point—an attack aimed not at the flesh, but at the very soul.
The result was immediate.
The illusion shattered. The weasel's true body convulsed violently, its legs clamping together as it let out a shrill, miserable cry. It wasn't the most damaging strike, but the humiliation was unbearable. To suffer such a blow in such a spot—it was a shame greater than death.
...
While Kaito was locked in battle within the illusion, the Weasel was weaving its tricks outside as well. To the rest of the team, it appeared as though Kaito and the monster were clashing evenly—blow for blow, no openings to exploit. The illusion was flawless, masking the truth and making it seem like Kaito was simply locked in a straightforward duel.
The others could only watch warily, waiting for the slightest crack to appear. Yet hesitation gnawed at them. Most of their stronger abilities were still on cooldown from the earlier barrage, leaving them recharging and unable to unleash another decisive strike right away.
But Aika was different. Her eyes narrowed. Being a cleric, for her something felt off—terribly off. The flow of demonic mana around the Weasel carried an unnatural distortion, a subtle ripple that betrayed the presence of an illusion. Unlike the others, she didn't hesitate.
"Radiant Light!" she cried, her staff glowing brilliantly.
A torrent of pure white brilliance erupted forth, cutting across the battlefield like a sacred dawn. The beam lanced straight into the monster, searing its shadowy guise. The timing couldn't have been better: just as the real Weasel let out a miserable cry from Kaito's soul strike inside the illusion, Aika's holy light pierced through its false image outside.
The monster's figure shuddered violently, its illusionary veneer cracking like shattered glass. The miserable cry that followed was no longer confined to the illusion—it bled into reality, its pained roar echoing across the valley.
The Weasel let out a guttural snarl, its yellow eyes burning with hatred as it finally steadied itself. Then, with a hateful glare fixed squarely on Kaito, it lunged forward in a frenzy.
Kaito didn't meet it head-on. Instead, his body blurred as he activated Wind veil Steps and Mana Steps in tandem, weaving across the battlefield with fluid, lightning-fast movements. His speed carved unpredictable arcs through the misty terrain, each step widening the gap by the barest margin. He knew the truth—under the weakening effect of Soul Absorption, his damage output had dropped significantly. For now, he couldn't be the blade that cut deepest. His role was to endure, to draw its ire, and to create an opening.
Through the party channel, his command rang out clear and sharp:
"Mei rin—again aim for the back of its head! Don't hold back!"
Mei rin's eyes sharpened instantly. She understood. he was deliberately pulling the Weasel's aggro, dragging out the duration of its Overlord Body's invincibility. The longer it focused on him, the more opportunities the others had to exploit its exposed weakness.
Sure enough, the massive beast pursued him like a bereaved specter, tearing up the ground in its maddened chase.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Mei rin unleashed a storm of arrows, maxing out her attack speed as she locked onto its weak point. Every shaft cut through the air with merciless precision, thudding into the back of its head one after another. The constant bombardment kept the beast reeling, its health steadily being chipped away.
Not content to stand idle, Raven Blade and Suzune also again slipped into the rhythm of the assault. Their daggers flashed coldly, darting in and out of the fray like serpents. Each time the Weasel twisted or faltered under Mei rin's arrows, the pair seized the chance to slash at the vulnerable back of its neck, their blades carving fresh wounds and forcing yet more roars of pain from the creature.
The synergy was seamless—Kaito leading the monster into a wild chase, Meirin's relentless arrows hammering its weak point, and Raven Blade and Suzune darting in like executioners whenever an opening appeared. The Weasel's towering frame staggered under the coordinated assault, each cry more ragged, more enraged than the last.