Monsters are born of nightmares. Illusions cannot hurt me. But if they were all physical, I could easily predict their path. I dodge under the swipe of a lion with grasshopper claws, then try to blast another giant cockroach beside me, but the magic passes through with no effect. Melindor knows this. When using his spells, he mixes mental and corporeal beings to confuse me. I can see the illusion being conjured, but I cannot differentiate it from reality within this place. I am trapped in my mundane senses. I propel myself away, accumulate the heat of the environment in one spot, and eliminate all the monsters at once in a great cataclysm of flames, but they reappear by the thousands a second later. The power of the All-Knowing has no quantitative limits. To counterattack, I intensify my senses and let the strength that hemomancy has given me do the rest of the work that standard intensification cannot. I feel the surroundings and all the changes that a body causes in the environment around it. If I can feel everything that surrounds them, then I don't have to worry about what I see.

  I advance and increase the temperature of the blood, transmute mana into the essence of life, and throw it as cuts and punctures. Manipulating water is much stronger and less problematic when used externally, but the true strength of hemomancy lies in what it can do to other people's bodies. By altering its properties, I poison the blood when I inject it and make it corrode the flesh, killing them before I even get close. The crystallization is as weak as glass, but the shards can be reused in future dominations. Facing the advance, Melindor points to the right, and pressure follows my body. Telekinesis. I propel myself to the other side before the pressure crushes me and sneak away so as not to be hit by another creature, but the cannonballs would be useless in the face of the new sensory acuity. The Illusionist reacts, already knowing that I would find a way to deal with them and preparing for it since the beginning of the fight.

  “Maximum output…" he whispers and joins his hands. “Despair.”

  The beast compresses the shards of mental reality that surround us until they break. An immeasurable void awaits me outside this reality; a demon manifests itself over the fused scenarios, and purple and spectral claws emerge from the microscopic void that separates each one. Melindor imagines the demon that once made him who he is and manifests the creature according to his will. He knows I have fought him before. I assume that all those chosen by Chaos are his victims. The dark and hopeless nights were more dangerous than the Unknown. But I have defeated him many times, and I must do so again.

  Such power depends not only on quantity, but on quality. I doubt he was summoned with all his power. That being the case, even though he is more troublesome than the army, I can still fight back.

  He advances. Many, many of him. Melindor uses telekinesis to create footholds and pulls me back. I dive into the shadows and use his tentacles as support so as not to be moved against my will. I cover myself with crystallized blood to pierce the demon's hands. The illusionist takes advantage of the opening and conjures several pressure points above me, hitting me like small, concentrated explosions. I am thrown, and the pain makes me grit my teeth. I unite my body using blood to keep it from falling apart. The claws circle the broken scene and tear through the air in my direction but touch nothing. I conjure shadows and fall on them to transport myself; I maintain my acceleration, fill my lungs, and freeze the environment with an attack that sweeps the area in a blizzard. Telekinesis prevents Melindor from being touched, and with the point of his finger, at the speed of thought, my mind boils. I grit my teeth and defend myself with my own illusions, but the pressure makes me lose the duel. A drop of blood drips from my nose; I prevent the others from joining it and keep them inside my body.

  “Give up,” Melindor says. “I will break your mind before you can kill us. Look at us. You can barely overcome me, let alone a powerful demon. The Lion will consume this land, and you will not separate him from his throne. Join me and live your dream while that does not happen.”

  I spit out a laugh. “Sorry, but that's not going to happen.”

  Melindor frowns and points again.

  Perhaps Melindor needed some kind of external preparation to cast the last spell, but whatever it was, it worked. I feel my sanity slipping away with every passing second. It won't be long before he can enter my mind. Can I even recover from this kind of damage?

  It doesn't matter. I'll worry about the damage later. I have something more dangerous in front of me.

  I push forward. Melindor blocks the advance with telekinesis, so I send crystals in another direction, and he is forced to intercept the trajectory. I spin on my axis to destroy the other claws, dodge another push, conjure muscles, and extend my hand toward the Illusionist, but he glides through the air and easily dodges. I increase the air pressure around him and knock him down suddenly, heating the wind and throwing blades of steam that pierce the telekinetic protection by a hair's breadth and make deep cuts in the Illusionist's body.

  My guard is down.

  Shit—

  The claw crushes me against the ground, and I feel my back burn. I maximize the emission and explode the hand that holds me, escaping from prison, and another claw cuts my chest. I incinerate it in retaliation and conjure a wave of blood beside me to block the Illusionist's advance. He dispels the ability and throws me again. I take advantage of the acceleration and dive into the shadows; black tentacles grow from the darkness and spread across the field, yellow light pulses from the blackness, and fireballs chase their targets until they expand into small suns.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I return to the surface and inhale. I cannot heal myself, but I can mutate my body. Muscles cluster and unite. Scars burn and leave dark marks on the skin.

  I won't stop here. I can't.

  Ashes are expelled from the darkness to blind. The intoxication does not touch the Illusionist. Blades of wind and explosive movement multiply the power of impact, but despite breaking barriers, they are unable to hurt him unless he is distracted. I think this is the solution. For over thirty minutes, I propel myself to burn his claws, fight his illusions with mine, conjure magma, and cool it to alter the environment and create solid natural barriers. For half an hour, I bring the maddening hell back to earth, and the vast world of diverse separate scenarios becomes nothing more than ashes and soot. My chest pounds. Exhaustion weighs on my shoulders, and the blood pulsing through my body pushes it to the limits of what mutations and adrenaline can achieve. Electricity can be predicted, ice can be fought, and darkness—at least mine—is not strong enough to give me any advantage other than movement. But reality remains, and Melindor is still standing. Combined with his invincible claws and the impossibility of being properly hit, my worn-out mind begins to overcome the strength in my body. Minutes feel like hours. Hours feel like days. I lose track of time. I don't believe this place even has any.

  Amidst my ashes, I will—

  “Isn't this tiring for you?”

  I turn and manifest the umbral blade to compete with the sword conjured by Melindor.

  "When we use multiple maximized spells, the emission cannot compensate, and we use the fuel from our own bodies. You must already know this. Your attack may have destroyed some claws, but demons don't have a limit like us mere mortals. He will recover quickly, and you cannot kill me in the meantime. It's checkmate. Your immense energy will run out over time, and the Clown will not be able to handle the pressure of our Rift. Your chance of victory is nil. Why do you still try? Is your desire for the death of freedom that great, demon?"

  He points at my head with his other hand, and again, it boils. It's worse this time. The demon regenerates as his hands approach. Telekinesis compresses my body.

  However,

  “The weakness...” I say. “It was intentional.”

  “...?”

  “Open.”

  *

  Melindor walks in a valley surrounded by blind giants.

  From outside the clearing, I watch him. The illusionist steps outside and approaches to finish the battle, but my presence disappears. He looks around and tries to return to the clearing, but it is no longer there. It wouldn't help anyway.

  “What's wrong?” I say.

  “My power—how?! What's happening?! What did you do?!”

  "Don't worry, the Rift won't get worse. I opened the Gates for only a single second, and then I closed them. That second was enough for me to distort your power and use your attempt to invade my mind against you. Using illusion, I chained you to me and used your strength to bring you here. I couldn't bring the Unknown to you, so I brought you to the Unknown. Honestly, I didn't think it would work, but..."

  I smile.

  “You're stuck here now. With me.”

  “IRRELEVANT!”

  Then Melindor points to the red sky to open a way out, but it doesn't obey him. He has no right of authority over something that has defeated him. On the horizon, purple claws are also being dragged into the world.

  "This is the Unknown. You can manifest whatever you want and have absolute power while inside the Storm, but not here. No. There are other forces that rule this place."

  I clasp my hands together.

  The monsters I conquered on the previous floors descend from the tower in a crowd that surrounds us. A storm of volatile and impossible creatures, physical and magical, misshapen and deceitful, whose only consistency is their inconsistency. They sing and dance in terror and glory, obeying the new king who joined them and saved them, and Melindor widens his eyes.

  “DESPAIR!” He cries out for the claws to help him, and they do, but they never return. A huge wave of creatures piles up on the hundreds of claws, endless, strengthened by the power I wield.

  He turns to me, thinking that this way, I will be alone. But there is nothing to fear. Melindor tries to push me, but the valley only blows. Using Chaos, I distort the causality of mental power and transform it into soap bubbles. The man screams and attacks my mind; the environment cracks but does not yield. I keep walking. Melindor conjures fire, and I respond with water. It's not my best element, but at this point, it doesn't matter anymore.

  “My turn,” I say, and then I cast the spell.

  The monsters I conquered on the previous floors descend from the tower in a crowd that surrounds us. A storm of volatile and impossible creatures, physical and magical, misshapen and deceitful, whose only consistency is their inconsistency. They sing and dance in terror and glory, obeying the new king who joined them and saved them, and Melindor widens his eyes.

  “DESPAIR!” He cries out for the claws to help him, and they do, but they never return. A huge wave of creatures piles up on the hundreds of claws, endlessly, strengthened by the power I wield.

  He turns to me, thinking that this way, I will be alone. But there is nothing to fear. Melindor tries to push me, but the valley only blows. Using Chaos, I distort the causality of mental power and transform it into soap bubbles. The man screams and attacks my mind; the environment cracks but does not yield. I keep walking. Melindor conjures fire, and I respond with water. It's not my best element, but at this point, it doesn't matter anymore.

  “My turn,” I say, and then I cast the spell.

  I've always been stronger inside the Unknown than outside it. And while present, I can manipulate Chaos as I please without having to worry about the Rift. Then, Melindor's memories roar against him. The people he killed return as the monsters that accompanied me. They chase him, and their powers focus on his immediate defeat, only for him to be hit by an explosion of fire while distracted. He rolls on the ground with his flesh burned, regenerates, and starts to fly but falls to the ground, thinking he was heading towards the sky. He struggles to maintain his senses and sanity. He fails. He struggles to keep the painful memories away from himself. He fails. The day of the agreement, when they all died. The day he abandoned them. Failures and more failures, returning like curses. It's not as effective as it was with Hilda, but it's enough.

  Melindor falls to his knees on the ground, poisoned by blood he didn't even notice he had been hit with. I distort the regeneration spells so that the mutation causes tumors. His trembling eyes stare at me with hatred and fear.

  “You...!”

  “Freedom,” I say. “This is your freedom.”

  The curses close in, and Melindor runs. His body is old and decrepit, and the terrain of the depths of the Unknown becomes increasingly difficult to navigate. Consumed and devoured by the monsters he himself gave life to, Melindor curses me one last time before closing his eyes.

  I drive the creatures away when he loses consciousness. His face reminds me of my own. I turn to the demon of despair, and then I enchant.