Chapter 217

Chapter 217

IVORY

The sun moved across the sky. Morning became afternoon. The two-hour deadline had been, then extended as the Ghost Council apparently allowed additional time for teams to fully regroup.

Still no Aria.

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I hunted successfully-caught a rabbit in one of my snares and prepared it with efficient butchering that came from years of anatomical knowledge applied to field medicine and survival training. The meat would provide necessary protein. The bones and sinew could be used for various purposes if needed later.

I was roasting the rabbit over the fire, turning it methodically to ensure even cooking, when I heard movement in the underbrush.

I grabbed my knife immediately, positioning myself defensively. Could be Aria. Could be another illusion. Could be a competitor from another team crossing into our territory. Could be an actual threat.

A figure emerged from the trees, stumbling, moving with obvious pain and difficulty.

Aria. The real one this time, I was fairly certain. Blood-soaked clothes, pale face, moving like someone barely maintaining consciousness through sheer stubborn determination.

And the moment she saw me, she stopped. Her expression shifted from relief to terror so quickly it was almost comical.

“No,” she breathed, scrambling backwards despite the obvious pain it caused. “No, not again. Stay away from me p>

I stood slowly, hands visible and non-threatening. “Aria, it’s me. The real me. You’re safe now. Let me help

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“That’s what the other one said!” Aria shouted, still backing away. “Right before she stabbed me! You’re another illusion! Another test! I won’t fall for it again p>

Other one. So she had encountered an illusion of me. One hostile enough to cause the very real injury I could see even from this distance.

Before I could respond, before I could figure out how to convince her I was real, another figure appeared.

Another me. Walking out of the forest from a different direction, knife drawn, expression cold and deadly.

The illusion looked at Aria with pure malice. “Thought you could escape?” it said in my voice. “Thought I’d let you reach the checkpoint? I told you-accidents happen in the Hunt. You’re just too weak to survive p>

It lunged toward Aria, and I moved on pure instinct.

I intercepted the illusion before it could reach my injured partner, my knife meeting its knife with a clash of metal that sent vibrations up my arm. We grappled, and I was disturbed by how solid it felt. How real. This wasn’t just visual trickery-this was advanced magical construction that could interact with physical world.

The illusion was good, Matched my movements, anticipated my techniques, fought with knowledge of

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Chapter 217

combat styles I’d trained in for years. But it had one weakness-it was reacting rather than creating. Responding to my attacks rather than generating its own strategy.

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Finished

I feinted left, then struck right when it moved to counter. My knife found the gap in its defense and slid home between ribs with precision that came from intimate knowledge of anatomy and killing strikes.

The illusion staggered, its expression shifting to surpris. Then it collapsed, and I waited for it to dissolve like the one at the checkpoint had done.

But it didn’t dissolve.

It just lay there. Looking exactly like a real body with a real knife wound. Blood pooling beneath it that smelled right, felt right, appeared completely genuine.

My stomach turned. Had I just killed another competitor? Someone who’d been made to look like me as part of the Hunt’s twisted tests?

I approached the body carefully, checking for signs of life, for breathing, for pulse, for anything that would confirm whether this was real or magical construct.

Before I could complete my examination, something hit me from behind.

Aria, attacking with desperate strength born from terror and self-preservation. Her small fist connected with the side of my head and stars exploded across myision. I stumbled, disoriented, trying to regain my balance.

She hit me again, this strike less coordinated but still painful. She was trying to kill me. Genuinely trying to kill who she thought was another hostile illusion.

I couldn’t fight back. Couldn’t defend myself aggressively without risking seriously injuring my already- wounded partner. But I also couldn’t just let her keep hitting me-her attacks were wild but determined, and eventually one would land critically if I didn’t stop this.

I caught her wrist on her next swing, using her own momentum to turn her, getting behind her and wrapping my arms around her in a restraining hold that immobilized her arms while minimizing pressure on her injured abdomen.

“Sleep,” I said, and applied pressure to the specific point on her neck that would induce unconsciousness. technique I’d learned in field medicine for dealing with panicked patients who couldn’t be reasoned with

Aria went limp in my arms. I lowered her carefully to the ground, checking immediately to make sure t restraint and induced unconsciousness hadn’t exacerbated her injuries.

The stab wound was worse than I’d initially assessed from a distance. Deep penetration, significant blood loss partially slowed by nightshade consumption but still dangerous. She’d been moving on pure adrenaline and stubbornness, ignoring injuries that should have left her incapacitated.

I worked quickly, cleaning the wound properly, applying genuine medical treatment that went far beyond the basic bandaging I’d done on the illusion. Stitches to close the deeper damage. Poultices to prevent infection. Proper dressing that would hold during movement while allowing the wound to breathe.

While I worked, I examined the nightshade dosage she managed to achieve. Impressive, actually. She’d consumed just enough to create the stasis effect without pushing into lethal toxicity. Either she’d gotten incredibly lucky or she had more knowledge of medicinal plants than I’d given her credit for.

Kael’s voice echoed in my memory from yesterday: *”Yu have hidden talents… You’re going to win for

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Mark