News traveled fast in Arcanum Academy—especially when laced with rumor and dread. It had been three days since Rowan's encounter with Selia, and already whispers of his strange magic were circulating among the senior faculty.
Students speculated wildly: Was he a lost heir to some forgotten demon court? A time-walker? An illusionary genius with no moral compass?
Rowan did nothing to stop the talk.
In fact, he encouraged it.
By lunchtime, three illusions of himself were walking the academy halls—arguing philosophy, dancing with summoned flamingos, and quoting obscure prophecies that didn't exist.
All the while, the real Rowan sat atop the North Tower roof, sipping tea with Lilith.
"You're escalating," she said, stirring sugar into her cup.
"I'm preparing," Rowan replied. "If Absolute Gaze wants a confrontation, I'll give them a theater show they'll never forget."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "You planning to duel Selia?"
Rowan smirked. "No. I'm going to make her duel herself."
---
That evening, the Headmaster issued a surprising decree:
> "Due to rising tensions and unexplained magical disturbances, all Class-A candidates must undergo a public magical evaluation within five days."
Translation? They were hunting Rowan under the guise of fairness.
Selia signed up immediately.
Rowan, naturally, followed.
The duel was scheduled for the third day, at dusk, in the Mirror Hall Arena—a reflective battleground known to distort even the strongest illusions. Glass walls, mirrored floors, enchanted lighting that shifted with intent. It was designed to strip away deception.
Exactly what Rowan wanted.
The arena buzzed with excitement. Professors and students filled the stands, whispering as illusion wards activated around the perimeter.
Rowan entered first. His steps were unhurried. He wore a cloak that shimmered differently from every angle—woven by Lilith, enchanted by Faye. His face was half-covered by a porcelain jester mask.
Selia entered from the opposite gate, calm and focused. She wore no ornament, no cloak—only the uniform of truth: gray robes marked with the Eye of Revelation.
Headmaster Valden raised his staff.
"This duel is sanctioned by Arcanum's Arcane Tribunal. Illusions and curses will be judged by fidelity, control, and resistance to dispel. Mortal harm is forbidden. Begin."
---
Selia didn't hesitate. She activated Reality Pulse, a wide arcane wave that dispelled minor illusions and projected a truth-field.
Rowan allowed the wave to hit.
Five clones of him shattered.
But then, the real Rowan bowed.
And seven more Rowans appeared.
Each argued with the others:
"No, I'm the real one!" "Lies! I'm the Rowan who passed the Founder's Trial!" "I came from the future, idiots."
Selia's Seer Eyes glowed. With precision, she blinked—and five more illusions collapsed.
Only two remained.
One stood still, smiling.
The other whispered, "She's too sharp. Misdirect her heart."
Selia fired a line of white energy—Soul Pierce, an attack designed to unravel illusions born from emotion.
The bolt hit the smiling Rowan.
He exploded—into a flock of ravens, all bearing masks.
Gasps filled the crowd.
The remaining Rowan clapped slowly.
"You're good," he said.
Selia replied flatly, "I'm not done."
She placed her hand on the mirrored floor and activated Absolute Anchor—a personal field of stabilized mana. The arena shimmered, rejecting falsehoods.
But Rowan had prepared.
[JOKER SYSTEM: Passive Triggered – Pantom Logic Overwrite]
> Shared Belief Detected. Audience Expectation – "Rowan Will Do the Impossible."
The mirrors shifted.
Dozens of Rowans appeared again—but now in mirrored versions of Selia's own robes. Some wore angelic wings, others horns. One knelt and whispered, "The truth fears me."
The reflections moved even when Rowan didn't.
Selia staggered.
She focused, invoking Soul Echo—her final defense, meant to lock her into emotional certainty.
And that was when Rowan spoke:
"Do you know who I am?"
Selia pointed her staff. "A liar."
"No," Rowan said. "I'm a story."
From the sky, a book descended.
A tome of bound contradiction.
A voice rang out across the arena—not Rowan's, but something older, deeper:
"The Fool shall rewrite prophecy. The Truth shall bend before belief."
Selia's knees buckled.
Not from injury.
From doubt.
---
Valden raised his hand. "Enough."
All illusions vanished.
Rowan and Selia stood, both breathing hard.
Valden stepped forward. "The duel is over. Illusion rating: maximum complexity. Integrity: undetected by full truth-seers. Winner: Rowan Edevane."
The crowd fell into silence.
Selia turned away.
But her hands trembled.
---
That night, Selia locked herself in her dormitory.
She stared at her reflection. Her eyes—the Seer Eyes—glowed faintly.
But they showed no lies.
Only her own face.
And Rowan's, flickering behind her, laughing.
In her journal, she wrote:
> "He is a wound in the world. And yet... I cannot look away."
---
Rowan stood alone in the garden, watching the moonlight shimmer in the fountain.
Faye appeared in a circle of glyphlight. "The Gilded Mask has infiltrated the noble districts. They're spreading your name like gospel."
"Let them," Rowan replied. "I've stopped trying to put the fire out."
Faye hesitated. "And Selia?"
Rowan looked at the stars.
"She's already part of the story. She just hasn't chosen her chapter yet."
END OF CHAPTER 11