The crowd gasped loudly in surprise. It was a collective intake of breath that bordered on a shout.
Anzu's light-green cloak vanished and was replaced by the cerulean blue and emerald green of the [Robe of Mululil]. Silver cuneiform symbols traced down its length, pulsing with inner light. The [Staff of a Hundred Deaths] materialized in his hand, turning the previous plain wood into luscious white oak. And at his hip, the [Heart-pricker] gleamed: the ornately decorated dagger of legend, which was unmistakable to anyone who knew the stories. His clean-shaven face grew a dark red beard and mustache, both well-kempt.
Whispers erupted, and fingers began pointing, some at the fake and some at Anzu. Someone near the front of the crowd stumbled backward.
"By the gods..."
"Is this him?"
"The real one?"
Anzu stood motionless as recognition washed over the gathered citizens. The legendary gear spoke for itself. For a moment, it felt as if no words were needed and no explanations required. Every eye that had seen the crude imitations on the fake now witnessed the genuine article, and the difference was as clear as daylight.
The fake Hero recovered first and immediately twisted his face.
"Lies! This man's a charlatan, nothing more!"
Anzu gestured up at the imposter's crude costume.
"How can you even compare the starlight-hewn stitches on my robes to your own crude ones?"
A woman near the front squinted at the fake's robe, then at Anzu's, and her eyes widened.
"Imposter!"
The cry spread like fire with fingers pointing at the man on the stage.
"Imposter! Fraud! Thief!"
Anzu raised his hand, and the shouts quieted. He turned to the fake, keeping his voice level and reasonable, devoid of emotion.
"It's time to be truthful. There's still time for you to retreat gracefully." He met the man's eyes. "I promise you my protection from the people's wrath if you cede the tower back into my hands."
The fake Hero's jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened around his staff.
"Never."
"Don't be foolish, man."
"He's the fake!" The imposter whirled to face the crowd, desperation edging his voice. "Think about it! Appearances can be deceiving. He's probably just some Sage who looted a good-looking robe somewhere. Like a scavenger picking over battlefields!"
He spread his arms wide.
"I've protected you thus far, haven't I? I've blessed your homes, healed your sick. Where was he all this time?"
A rotten apple struck him in the chest.
Then came a cabbage. And then a turnip. Within seconds, the air filled with flying vegetables as the crowd's anger finally found a release.
"Stop!" Anzu's voice cut through the chaos.
The throwing ceased. Fruits and vegetables lay scattered across the wooden stage, and there was even some pulp dripping from the fake's shoulders.
"One last chance," Anzu said quietly. "Cede the tower."
As the fake wiped apple pulp from his face, his breathing grew harder, and his eyes filled with pure venom.
"Now we fight, you bastard."
"No, not yet."
Anzu raised his staff and channeled mana through the familiar geometric patterns. The spell, [Telekinetic dart], surged forth with a loud crack, similar to that of breaking the sound barrier. It struck the crude wooden hut blocking his tower's entrance, making the structure explode outward, planks spinning through the air like thrown spears, flying dozens of yards beyond the tower to crash into the empty gardens behind.
The ancient lion statues were now finally revealed again. Anzu allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as the proud guardians flanked the true entrance to the tower once more.
"You...!" The fake Hero's face had gone purple. He spun toward the Elamite mercenaries. "Kill him! End this farce now!"
"You're right about that." Anzu shifted his grip on his staff, settling into a combat stance. "It is a farce."
Mentally, he accessed the fluorescent system's interface to check his mana pool. It sat at 10%.
The telekinesis spell had drained a huge portion of it because it was necessary for demolishing something that large. But it confirmed what he'd been learning through his previous combat encounters with this glitched build. His [Debilitating Blood] debuff made regular Mana-Reliant magic practically unusable in combat. Any sustained fight would bleed him dry in less than minutes.
The Elamites were already moving, silently spreading out with professional efficiency, approaching the edge of the stage, probably to jump off.
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Blood Magic it had to be, then. There was no choice.
Anzu swiftly uncorked a mana potion and downed it in three large gulps. The liquid had a fresh bite to it as it went down, similar to highly concentrated mint or eucalyptus, which was a hallmark of standard [Tier 10] potions. His mana bar surged from ten percent to ninety-four. He tossed the empty vial onto the stage, where it shattered against the wood.
As soon as the [Heart-pricker] slid free from its sheath, the golden blade caught sunlight and threw brilliant reflections across the crowd. It was about time to present it as its true self again, without any illusion disguises. Anzu pressed the edge of the blade against three fingers of his left hand and drew it across in one smooth motion. Blood welled immediately, running hot over his palm.
The crowd gave a gasp of surprise and horror that rippled through the tower's gardens.
Anzu raised his staff and channelled mana down through the white oak into his bleeding hand. The familiar pressure of [Blood lacerate] built in his chest and throat, demanding release.
"Taaraku!"
His voice boomed across the gardens, magically morphed and amplified, carrying the weight of ancient Sumerian syllables. The crowd stumbled backward immediately as fear flickered across dozens of faces.
Power roared through his veins like molten copper as red fluorescent rays erupted from his outstretched palm like bolts of crimson light. The magic struck the first Elamites as they reached the stage's edge, then spread outward to engulf the others, finally washing over the fake Hero in a blood-red tide.
The fake staggered and nearly went down, but then caught himself on one knee. His skin split open along invisible lines as lacerations appeared on his arms, his face, and his chest. Blood gushed from a dozen cuts at once.
But the Elamites fared worse. Three hit the ground immediately, screaming, while others dropped to one knee, dropping their weapons due to numb hands and fingers. The courtyard became a bloodbath, involving shouts that mixed with cries of pain and anger.
Anzu maintained the spell, feeding it mana in steady pulses, causing the red light pouring from his hand in continuous waves.
In the meantime, Itani had nocked an arrow and held her bow half-raised. But she lowered it slowly and began backing away with an expression that combined shock and awe. She had fought alongside Anzu before, but she hadn't seen him take on this many opponents at the same time.
Anzu kept the blood flowing. Twelve Elamites and the fake were all caught in the spell's grip and were all bleeding from wounds that opened and reopened with each pulse of magic. The fake Hero's health dropped steadily: 72%, 63%, 55%
The fake's hand then moved to his belt with a stagger. He fumbled with a vial, nearly dropped it, but finally got the cork free, and a light green liquid disappeared down his throat.
Anzu's damage output decreased immediately. Not drastically, but enough for him to notice. The fake must've ingested a [Bleed Guard] potion, which increased bleed-resistance. A clever move.
The fake then groped for his fallen staff with shaking fingers. He hauled himself upright, leaning heavily on the weapon, and cried out in raw pain that echoed off the tower's stone walls. His hand trembled as he traced a complex geometric pattern through the air, moving his staff in practiced arcs despite the blood running down his arms.
Water droplets with a faintly blue glow materialized above him. They descended like gentle rain, coating his skin and robes.
Anzu's spell weakened a little further against the fake. The blood magic still tore at him, but it was slower now. It was probably [Water Guard] that he cast on himself, which was another smart move. Water magic could be quite effective against blood damage if used right, because it had a diluting effect on blood. This Sage was smarter than Anzu gave him credit for.
The fake met Anzu's eyes through the red haze of magic. His breathing was hard and irregular, while his face was as pale as snow. But he was still standing.
But the fake's defenses were nothing but a speed bump. Anzu channeled more mana into the spell, forcing the crimson rays to intensify. They struck the imposter with renewed fury, tearing through his [Water Guard] like tissue paper.
The fake's health kept dropping, and it was now below 40%.
The Elamites writhed on the stage as their screams mixed with the crowd's horrified murmurs. They were at about 40% health, while the fake hero staggered at 45% due to his added guards.
Anzu opened the mana channel a little more, making the red light blaze brighter.
But suddenly, the magic was cut off.
DING! You do not have enough mana to cast [Blood Lacerate]. Mana at 0.4%.
Damn and damn again. Anzu's hand dropped, and the crimson rays vanished instantly.
But this was to be expected. The fight was going well so far, without any glitches, but the mana debuff was always working in the background, actively suppressing a good chunk of his mana pool. And he'd taken on thirteen targets at once. Of course, he'd burned through 90% of his mana in seconds. His glitchy, broken build; he could work with it, but it wasn't sustainable.
As the current of blood damage ceased, the closest Elamite lurched to his feet. Blood streamed from cuts on his face and arms, but his hands moved with trained precision. He dropped his spear, yanked a crossbow from his belt, and raised it.
A bolt flew.
But Anzu's wrist flicked as the white oak of the[Staff of a Hundred Deaths] swept through the air, catching the bolt mid-flight and deflecting it harmlessly aside. Thank the gods he'd invested those extra points in [Dexterity].
The Elamite reached for another bolt.
Clutching his staff tightly, Anzu dove into a roll, moving sideways. He came up beside a severely overgrown bush and grabbed another mana potion. The cork popped free, and the blue liquid refreshed his throat aggressively, going down, and gave off a harsh and chemical aftertaste.
With a swift status check, the system's interface revealed his mana pool was at 91%. It was good enough for now.
There was further movement on the stage. The fake Hero had clawed his way upright again, using his staff for support. As he stood up, his staff traced a new geometric pattern in the air, giving rise to a white mist that descended around him, coating his bloodied robes.
Anzu raised his bleeding palm and began the [Blood lacerate] incantation again.
"Taaraku!"
The crimson rays erupted once more. The Elamites collapsed immediately as their brief recovery ended in fresh screams. The fake Hero dropped to his knees with blood pouring from reopened wounds.
But his health bar fluctuated now. It was at 45%, then 43%, and then back to 48%. Anzu understood what his opponent's latest spell was: it was [Timely heal], a heal-over-time effect that was keeping the fake Hero standing.
Anzu's jaw clenched. It was fine. He'd deal with the mercenaries first.
He narrowed his focus, concentrating the blood flow away from the fake and toward the twelve Elamites. Their health pools dropped faster: 23%, 19%, 15%.
The spell responded to his will like a living thing. Anzu guided it with careful precision, watching the numbers tick down. The Elamites were at 14% across the board, swiftly approaching that 10% incapacitation limit. He pinched the flow tighter, controlling the damage with surgical care, until they sat at 9%.
All twelve of them collapsed within seconds of each other, making up a heap of unconscious bodies surrounded by pools of blood on the stage.
Suddenly, the notification hit him like a crossbow bolt:
DING! [Blowback] for 62% damage triggered.
Blood exploded from Anzu's nose in a hot rush. His vision went red as blood filled his eyes from burst vessels. His right and left hands split open along new lines, opening deep lacerations that sprayed crimson across his robe.
He had expected blowback. But for 62% percent damage? His knees buckled. Then again, he had dealt a huge amount of damage to the Elamites and the fake Hero.
The crowd's screams seemed distant now, even muffled, beneath the roaring in his ears. Blood dripped from his chin, his fingers, and some was even pooling at his feet.
But the crucial part was done. The Elamites were down.
Anzu blinked the blood away from his eyes and turned his gaze toward the fake Hero, who was still kneeling in the white mist and still healing.
One target was left now.