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certainly enjoyed the developing venue of this particular
contest, even taking a few moments from my pursuit to
approve of the seething ambience.
I was surprised when I saw the Missing Child draw up
to the Prince—whited fist held high, exuding the howls of
murdered children—and fail to land a decisive blow against
his designated target. While the creature’s cold fist seemed
to connect with the Prince, who seemed more than willing
to receive the attack, the very moment of impact revealed
the magician to be nothing but a wall of mirrored glass.
Through the sound of it shattering and the roar of the fire, I
could hear the high-pitched laughter of the Prince of Smoke
mocking the goliath from the grave. At that moment, I may
have discovered a bit of respect for the killer magician. Yet
where were the other two brothers? Surely, they were part of
the show as well.
As I began scanning the spaces around me for his cohorts,
the magician appeared behind The Missing Child, emerging
again from the smoke as if he were truly a hierarch of flames.
The Prince silently slapped an explosive device to the back
of the elemental and shrank into cloud.
The undead giant disappeared into a storm of fire and
fury. I was stunned by the cleverness and efficiency of my
opponent. I never guessed the killer to be anything but a
financier of murder—certainly not the demon of smoke and
mirrors he now revealed himself to be. Where I had only
discovered a bit of respect for the Prince of Smoke, I now
found admiration.
The shockwave from the explosion rippled through
the bones of the copycat castle, and the Prince’s apparent
victory over the Missing Child sent a fresh gust of courage
surging into the sails of the remaining army. They cheered
their employer as they trained their attention and weapons
back on me.
The Red Dream was doing its job well enough, but the
stark reality of so many bullets washing over me began to
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