Chapter 92: Trade With A Dragon

Beneath the fiery twilight of Mount Urant, my true self donned the Phantom Mask. With the subtle hum of magic, the projection of my clones shifted, mirroring the masked visage. It was a simple trick, reshaping the features of my mana constructs, but one that carried an unmistakable air of intrigue.

As three of my clones materialized, the atmosphere thickened.

The dragon, regal and vast, fixed its gaze on them. "You are no human," it growled, the weight of its words shaking the ground.

Plink, visibly paling, stumbled backward. "F-Fantom! Why are there three of you?!"

Wisbel, ever the opportunist, smirked, his expression quickly veiling confusion. "So, shadow doubles? Clever. But what's your game here?"

I held my tongue, amused. He was half-right but wholly wrong. My clones were no mere illusions. They were extensions of my will, not bound by flesh or mortality.