The Yoruha and Quinlan before them dissolved into mist.
The true Yoruha, standing perfectly calm beside a newly visible Quinlan, licked the back of her paw with infuriating leisure. Her voice purred, dripping mockery into the air as the illusion collapsed around her foes.
Moonveil Cataclysm…
The words themselves carried magic. A rush of mythical energies erupted from her tails, weaving a dome of warped light around her enemies. In that instant, Morgana and Lilith felt their senses fracture as the room, the walls, even Quinlan's figure splintered into countless mirrored phantoms.
Both witch and spellblade understood: this wasn't a fight against raw strength. This was a battle against something worse.
An immortal trickster who had turned something as innocent-sounding as 'illusions' into one of the strongest forms of combat magic on the whole Iskaris continent.
However, even if they missed their intended targets, two incredibly powerful attacks have already been let loose.
