Reflections of Deception

Correct

"How is this possible? We cleared out all the Elves Viktor and his friends carried. How did you get here?" The man in the cloak pulled a knife from his back. Then he smirked. "Well, it doesn't matter."

Suddenly, a thick fog swirled around him. His cloak dissolved into mist, vanishing into the air.

"What—? Where's my cloak?" Zelen looked around in confusion.

"It's over, Zelen."

The Elf stood tall, his voice deep and unmistakably masculine.

Zelen's grip on his knife tightened. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" Without hesitation, he lunged, striking without a second's delay.

The Elf dodged every blow with uncanny precision. But one strike tore through his cloak, ripping it apart.

The moonlight fell upon his face.

Zelen's eyes widened. "You.....?!"

It was Oliver.

"You bastard!" Zelen's fury ignited. "How dare you?!"

He pointed his knife at Oliver, his rage boiling over. "Is this your ability?"

Meanwhile, outside the forest, Nitwit and Envia emerged from the crowd. The onlookers were still in shock over the Elf's sudden disappearance.

Nitwit and Envia hurried toward them, questioning the others about the Elf.

Back in the forest, Zelen and Oliver clashed, fighting as if their lives depended on it.

"You framed my friends as rapists!" Oliver spat. "After I beat you to a pulp, I'll drag you to court and expose your lies!"

Oliver moved like a phantom, slipping between Zelen's knife strikes with effortless grace. Every slash, every thrust, every desperate arc of the blade met nothing but air. Oliver ducked, sidestepped, and leaned just out of reach, his movements almost inhuman.

The moon light cast long, shifting shadows, their silhouettes a blur of relentless motion.

Zelen's frustration mounted. His attacks grew wilder, more erratic.

"You think you're the only one with an ability?" he sneered, tightening his grip on the knife. "Then watch this."

Before Oliver could react, Zelen's fist crashed into his jaw.

Oliver staggered backward, dazed. Zelen stepped forward, ready to end it.....

Then, a whisper of wind behind him.

Oliver spun, just in time to see a blade flashing toward his throat. He barely managed to twist away. But when he turned back—Zelen had vanished.

A voice echoed from the darkness.

"The moment you see my knife, the me you're looking at is just a copy. A real, solid copy. But the original?" Zelen chuckled. "He moves unseen, unheard. You won't even know he's there—until you strike the clone."

Oliver exhaled sharply. This just got a lot harder.

They clashed again. Zelen's clone lunged, slashing in elegant arcs. But Oliver was faster. He dodged each attack with calculated precision, countering when he could. A sharp elbow to the ribs, a spinning kick to the chest—the clone staggered but remained standing.

The real Zelen still lurked somewhere in the shadows.

Frustration flickered across Zelen's face. With a growl, he threw the knife aside, letting it clatter against the ground.

Oliver smirked. Without the knife, Zelen shouldn't be able to use his ability anymore.

He surged forward, a flurry of strikes. A scissor kick swept Zelen's legs from under him, a roundhouse smashed into his ribs, and a hook sent him reeling. Zelen barely stayed on his feet.

Oliver didn't let up. He closed in, ready to finish it.

Then.....

A presence behind him.

Oliver's instincts screamed, but it was too late.

The real Zelen struck with eerie precision, mimicking every attack Oliver had just used against the clone. A scissor kick. A roundhouse. A crushing hook.

Oliver reeled from the blows, pain exploding through his body.

Zelen stepped back, watching him struggle to stand. He smirked. "You thought throwing the knife meant I couldn't use my ability anymore?" He scoffed. "No. The moment I let it go, my ability activated one last time. You got careless, Oliver."

Oliver clenched his jaw, breathing unevenly.

Zelen flexed his fingers, tilting his head. "But, you know," he muttered, almost to himself, "I didn't really want to touch you. Something about it just.... didn't feel right."

Then, thick fog rolled in.

"You're right," a voice echoed through the mist. "The fight is over."

Zelen's eyes darted around. "What?! Oliver, is this you?"

He leaped toward Oliver, ready to finish him—only to realize he wasn't touching anything.

He was floating.

"What the hell?!"

Oliver slowly lifted off the ground. A sudden gust of wind sent Zelen hurtling backward, slamming him into a tree.

The fog cleared.

Ethan stood before them.

Zelen groaned, forcing himself to his feet. His eyes burned with rage. "Ethan! So you two planned this, huh?"

But then.....

He saw them.

His breath caught.

Two bodies lay on the ground beside Oliver and Ethan.

Zelen's pupils dilated. His voice shook.

"No... No way..."

Nitwit and Envia.

Lying still.

"You....." Zelen's fury exploded. "You bastards are going to pay!"

He lunged.

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

His fist shot toward Ethan's face—

But it stopped.

Mid-air.

"What—?"

A small wind vortex spiraled around Oliver as he hovered slightly above the ground.

Zelen's eyes narrowed. "I see now. Your ability is related to wind." He clenched his fists. "All those punches I landed on you… They were fake. You were just acting."

Oliver grinned. "I wouldn't call it acting. If it was, that would mean the people who fell for it are even worse actors."

Zelen's rage deepened. "Still... How did you find out? This was a perfect setup!"

Flashback

Inside a dimly lit bakery, Oliver and Ethan flipped through notebooks, their brows furrowed in concentration.

"Find anything suspicious?" Athena paced restlessly, chewing her lip.

"Not yet," Oliver muttered, still scanning the pages.

"I found something." Ethan's voice was sharp, urgent.

Oliver and Athena rushed over.

Ethan spread two notebooks open on the table. "Three names. I suspect them."

Oliver's gaze locked onto the pages.

Miles. Nitwit. Zelen.

"Those bastards," Oliver growled. His knuckles turned white. "I'll beat the truth out of them and find out who framed Viktor and the others!" He slammed his fist onto the table.

Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to be sure first. Let's investigate separately. Stay calm."

Oliver exhaled sharply, nodding. "Fine. I'll take Zelen and Nitwit. You check on Miles."

Athena's voice broke. "Please... I'm begging you. Help them." She clutched Oliver's sleeve, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know what happened to Elena, but at least help Livio and Eero. Help the others."

Oliver softened, giving her a firm nod. "We will."

They left for the palace.

Upon arrival, they split up, questioning everyone they could find.

Ethan scoured the halls. "Was Miles here yesterday?" he asked a passing man.

The man squinted at him. "Why should I tell you?" He raised his mug. "What's in it for me?"

Ethan sighed and slid a few coins across the table.

The man grinned. "Now you're talking. Yeah, Miles was here. Drinking all day with James and the others."

Meanwhile, Oliver met nothing but dead ends.

Frustrated, he sank onto a table, rubbing his temples.

Across from him, a man was reading a book.

"Hey," the man muttered without looking up, turning a page. "You wanna know what Zelen was doing yesterday?"

Oliver's head snapped up. His eyes gleamed.

"Tell me everything."