Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

As the shadows fully coalesced, the shifting figure solidified into a woman. Her short, jet-black hair framed a pale face marked by an unsettling, mocking grin.

She wore a half-silver armor, glinting dully in the dim temple light, and her serpent-like eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. She was both unnervingly beautiful and utterly terrifying.

A system notification appeared before Ivaim, cutting through the oppressive tension.

[Name]: Lyria

[Rank]: Agony

[Ruiner's rank is higher than the Reality Master. Trials and Tasks cannot be used!]

Ivaim's heart sank.

'Of course, she's above me. Why wouldn't she be?'

He mocked himself, masking his apprehension with his usual smirk.

"Lyria, huh? Fancy name for someone who just barges into my realm uninvited."

Lyria tilted her head, the grin never leaving her face. "And you're the Spirit with Good Luck, a Reality Master with a penchant for fortune it seems. How quaint."

Her voice was smooth but laced with venom.

"Tell me, little Master, do you think luck will save you from me?"

Ivaim raised an eyebrow, forcing himself to appear unfazed. "Luck's all I need. And from the looks of it, you're overdue for a little misfortune."

Lyria chuckled, a sound like ice shattering. "Oh, I love a confident one. It makes breaking you so much more entertaining."

Her mocking tone set Ivaim's teeth on edge, but he refused to let her see it.

"Let's get on with it, then. I don't have all day."

With that, Lyria moved, faster than Ivaim expected. She raised a hand, and an invisible wave of agony washed over him.

It was as if his nerves were set aflame, his muscles locking in place. He bit back a scream, clutching the altar for support.

[Pain Infliction activated.]

"Does it hurt?" Lyria purred, her serpent-like eyes gleaming. "Good. That's just the beginning."

Ivaim forced himself to grin through the pain. "Not bad. But if you think that's enough to stop me, you're about to be very disappointed."

He activated [Coin of Fortune], summoning a glimmering golden coin that spun in the air before him. As it spun, the searing pain dulled, replaced by a surge of clarity.

With a flick of his wrist, the coin vanished, and Ivaim leapt to the side, dodging Lyria's next strike.

"Lucky," Lyria remarked, her tone dripping with mockery. "But luck can only carry you so far."

Ivaim didn't respond, instead using [Lucky Leap] to propel himself toward her with incredible speed. His blade gleamed as he slashed at her, but Lyria was faster. She sidestepped with unnerving precision, her grin widening.

"You'll have to do better than that," she said, spinning gracefully and delivering a sharp kick to his chest.

Ivaim was sent sprawling across the temple floor, his weapon clattering out of reach. He scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth.

"Okay, so you're a little tougher than you look. Noted."

Lyria's eyes narrowed, and she extended her hand. The world around Ivaim twisted, and suddenly, every direction felt wrong.

Forward became backward, left became right—he couldn't trust his own movements.

[Reverse Direction activated.]

"What the—" Ivaim stumbled, his vision swimming. He tried to steady himself, but every step only disoriented him further.

Lyria advanced, her movements fluid and deliberate.

"Confused?" she asked, feigning concern. "Poor little Master, lost in his own domain."

Ivaim gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus.

'Think. Fortune favors the bold.'

He activated [Coin of Fortune] again, this time aiming for a gamble. The coin spun in the air, shimmering brightly before vanishing. His next step landed true, the disorientation momentarily lifting.

Seizing the chance, he lunged for his blade, narrowly evading another wave of pain from Lyria. He rolled to his feet, gripping the weapon tightly.

"You're persistent," Lyria said, her smile faltering slightly. "But persistence isn't enough."

She lunged, her serpent-like eyes locking onto his. Ivaim barely dodged, the blade of her gauntlet scraping against his arm. Blood welled up, but he didn't let it slow him down.

"Funny," Ivaim shot back, his voice strained but defiant. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Summoning all his remaining strength, he activated [Lucky Leap] again, propelling himself high into the air. From above, he hurled his blade with all his might, aiming for her exposed shoulder.

The weapon struck true, embedding itself in her armor. Lyria hissed, her mocking demeanor replaced by a flash of genuine anger.

"You'll regret that," she growled.

"Maybe," Ivaim panted, landing unsteadily, his breaths ragged but his grin unwavering. "But I've made it this far, haven't I?"

His words were defiant, but his legs trembled, his body screaming in protest. Blood trickled from the gash on his arm, but he refused to give Lyria the satisfaction of seeing him falter.

He tightened his grip on the blade, readying himself for her next move.

Suddenly, a low, familiar meow echoed across the temple. Ivaim's head snapped toward the sound, his eyes widening in disbelief.

From the shadows emerged the brown cat that had been lounging on the altar earlier. But it wasn't lounging anymore. The small creature's fur bristled with energy, its tail lashing as its glowing eyes locked onto Lyria.

"What—" Ivaim began, but his words caught in his throat as the cat's body shimmered.@@novelbin@@

In an instant, a second "Ivaim" materialized beside him, an uncanny mirror of himself. The clone smirked at Lyria with the same mocking grin that Ivaim wore, holding a weapon identical to his own.

"[Attachment Clone]," Ivaim muttered, his voice tinged with both surprise and gratitude. "You little genius."

The clone wasted no time, launching itself at Lyria with startling speed. The Ruiner's serpent-like eyes narrowed as she raised her gauntlet to deflect the attack.

The clone's blade clashed against her armor, sparks flying as the force of the blow pushed her back a step.

"You brought a pet to fight your battles?" Lyria sneered, her voice laced with irritation. "How pathetic."

The real Ivaim chuckled, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "Don't underestimate my 'pet.' He's full of surprises."

The clone pressed its attack, moving with a fluidity that matched Ivaim's own fighting style. Each strike was calculated, relentless, forcing Lyria to stay on the defensive. Meanwhile, the real Ivaim took the opportunity to regain his footing and reassess the battlefield.

The brown cat didn't stop there. With a hiss, it darted forward, weaving through the chaos of the fight. Its small size made it almost impossible to target, and it used its agility to distract Lyria further. At one point, it leapt onto her shoulder, clawing at her exposed neck.