Illusion.
For now, the rules had stripped away the cost of death, and the instinct to survive was no longer a shackle weighing on his judgment.
In reality, he had to account for injuries, teammates, retreat routes, pursuing enemies, and the price of death brought by every mistake.
Now, the illusion had taken all those distractions away.
What remained was only this powerful monster, one he had never truly settled the score with.
But before that...
His gaze swept to the side.
Cyril was hiding behind a half-collapsed cargo crate, a series of faint arcs glowing at the tip of his staff.
Three [Magic Missiles] flew out in succession, striking a wolf rider's sword-wielding wrist, shoulder armor, and the Dire Wolf's eye, knocking aside the axe blade that had been aimed at him.
Of the two Lorne scouts, only one remained, using the terrain to skirmish with one of the wolf riders.
The other scout lay in a pool of blood, torn apart by wolf fangs in the earlier melee.
"Reese! Help Cyril take care of the wolf rider on his side!"
"Got it, Senior!"
He Xi rolled sideways, evading the ogre's massive club as it swept toward him.
The instant his shoulder and back brushed over rubble, his left palm pressed against the ground, his toes tapped off a cracked stone foundation, and his waist tightened sharply.
Using the momentum of his roll, he slid low across the ground toward the front and side.
The next moment, muscles bulged along the ogre's pillar-thick arm, veins standing out beneath its heavy skin as it forcibly twisted the half-completed swing of its club.
The blood-smeared club did not stop just because its momentum had missed.
The Two-Headed Ogre stomped down with its right foot, shattering the rock slab beneath it, and