Final Regression of The Legendary Swordmaster-Chapter 100: The Illusion That Even Kings Cannot See

The underground chamber lay far beneath the surface of the city, carved directly into bedrock that had not seen sunlight in centuries. The air was cool and still, heavy with mana that had been sealed in place through layers of defensive formations. No sound from the outside world could reach this depth. No scrying spell could pierce the barriers etched into the walls. Even sound itself seemed muted, as though the chamber existed slightly out of step with the rest of reality.

Edward stood at the center of the chamber, his expression calm and unreadable.

The walls were lined with anti-scrying arrays stacked in concentric rings. Each layer carried a different function. The outermost layer distorted magical detection. The second layer reflected probing mana back toward its source. The third layer dissolved hostile surveillance constructs into harmless static. At the very core of the chamber, where Edward now stood, even Archmage-level detection would find only silence.

The floor had been cleared and polished days ago. Now it was covered in a vast rune circle spanning nearly the entire chamber. Intricate sigils overlapped one another in geometric precision. Symbols of concealment intertwined with symbols of transmutation. Illusion matrices were embedded within deeper illusion matrices, forming a complex structure that resembled a living organism more than a spell.

Mana channels ran between the runes like veins carrying luminous light. When viewed from above, they resembled threads of fate woven into a tapestry of distortion.

Thaleia stood at the edge of the circle, kneeling beside a cluster of etched sigils. Her hands moved carefully as she adjusted the mana flow through a secondary conduit. Her expression was focused, composed, yet faintly tense. Even as an Early True Mage, she could feel the weight of what they were preparing to cast.

Valerius stood near the chamber entrance, silent and immovable. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade. Though no one could possibly intrude upon this place without triggering layers of alarms, he maintained his guard without complaint. His presence was steady, disciplined, and unwavering.

Edward closed his eyes briefly.

The spell before them was Epic-tier.

In most kingdoms, its study alone would be grounds for execution.

It was not merely an illusion that masked the surface. It did not simply alter appearance like a cheap glamour spell. This magic rewrote perception at multiple layers of reality. It altered facial structure, bone alignment, muscle tension, skin texture, and even the subtle asymmetries that defined individuality. It reshaped the vibration of one’s voice. It shifted the rhythm of breath. It bent the resonance of mana aura itself.

Only an Archmage or someone of equivalent perception could detect its flaws.

To everyone else, it would be absolute truth.

Edward opened his eyes and looked at Thaleia and Valerius.

"Once we enter Atlantis," he said calmly, his voice even and controlled, "we do not exist."

Neither of them spoke.

"If they hunt us," he continued, "they hunt ghosts."

Thaleia nodded once.

Valerius bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Edward stepped fully into the center of the rune circle. The carved sigils responded immediately, glowing faintly beneath his feet. Mana began to stir in the chamber like a rising tide.

He extended both hands.

High Mage-level mana surged outward from his core in a steady, controlled stream. The air thickened. The rune circle ignited in layers, one matrix after another activating in precise sequence. Light traced along the channels like molten silver flowing through carved veins.

Deep within Edward’s core, his Saint Flame flickered.

It did not blaze.

It did not roar.

It simply stirred, its white-gold light faint but unmistakable.

The mana pressure in the chamber increased.

Thaleia inhaled slowly as she adjusted her own mana output to stabilize the secondary illusion matrices. Her task was to ensure synchronization between the layered constructs. If the matrices misaligned even slightly, the spell could fracture under scrutiny.

Valerius remained at the perimeter, but even he felt the weight pressing against his body. His breath grew heavier as the mana density thickened.

Edward began the incantation.

His voice was low, controlled, and steady. The words were ancient, older than the current kingdoms of the Human Domain. Each syllable resonated with deliberate intent. As he spoke, the rune circle responded, shifting and rearranging its inner geometry.

Illusion did not spread like mist.

It spread like liquid glass.

A thin layer of shimmering distortion rose from the floor and began to climb his legs. It did not burn. It did not freeze. It simply pressed against his skin with faint, almost clinical pressure.

The sensation was subtle discomfort.

His bones vibrated slightly as the spell recalibrated their alignment. Muscles contracted and relaxed under unseen guidance. The illusion did not overwrite reality. It persuaded reality to shift.

His jawline altered by a fraction.

His cheekbones softened.

The bridge of his nose narrowed.

His eyes, once sharp and familiar, gradually shifted in hue. The dark color lightened into a muted grey.

Even the way his mana pulsed changed.

The steady, composed rhythm of his aura fractured into a more restrained, subdued pattern. Anyone sensing him would detect nothing remarkable. Just another High Mage among many.

Thaleia watched as the transformation progressed.

For a brief moment, she felt a chill.

The man standing in the center of the circle still moved like Edward. His posture was identical. His presence remained composed.

Yet his face was no longer the same.

He opened his eyes and looked toward her.

The gaze was familiar.

The features were not.

"Your turn," he said.

His voice carried a different timbre now. Slightly deeper. Less sharp. The change was seamless.

Thaleia stepped into the circle.

As she did, the outer illusion matrix shifted to accommodate a second subject. She positioned herself precisely where Edward had instructed earlier.

"Maintain your mental clarity," Edward said. "Do not resist the reshaping."

She nodded.

He began channeling again.

Mana flowed from him into the circle, merging with her own energy. The spell rose once more, this time enveloping her form.

The sensation was strange.

It was not pain.

It was not exactly pressure.

It felt like standing between two mirrors that reflected versions of her that did not quite align.

Her hair darkened slightly in tone.

Her facial structure softened.

The subtle sharpness of her gaze dulled into something gentler.

Even the way her shoulders carried tension shifted.

She inhaled, and her breath sounded different in her own ears.

For a brief second, uncertainty flickered across her mind.

Who was she, if even her reflection no longer matched memory?

The spell continued its work with cold precision.

Edward observed without emotion.

To him, this was no different from equipping armor before battle.

Identity was a tool.

If it became a liability, it was discarded.

The illusion settled over Thaleia completely, sealing itself like a second skin. The rune circle dimmed slightly as the first phase concluded.

Valerius stepped forward without being told.

His loyalty did not require instruction.

Edward nodded once.

The final casting began.

Valerius’ body was sturdier, his mana less refined but solid. The illusion adapted accordingly. His broad frame subtly narrowed. A faint scar on his cheek vanished. His eye color shifted from dark brown to pale green. The way he held his shoulders changed just enough to disrupt recognition.

When the spell completed, silence filled the chamber.

The rune circle’s glow faded to a faint shimmer before extinguishing entirely.

The air felt lighter.

Edward exhaled once.

The Epic-tier illusion had locked into place.

It would sustain itself through ambient mana absorption. It would adjust automatically to minor fluctuations in their physical state. It would resist most detection spells.

Only an Archmage, or someone of comparable perception, could pierce it.

Edward walked toward the stone wall where a mirror had been placed earlier.

He stood before it.

A stranger looked back.

The man in the reflection possessed composed grey eyes and a slightly altered face. His features were unremarkable, forgettable. His mana aura was subdued.

There was no trace of Edward Vistro, former marquis of Luminaries.

Thaleia approached slowly.

She stopped beside him and looked into the mirror.

Her breath caught.

The woman staring back had similar posture but different proportions. Her expression appeared softer, less sharp. The subtle pride that once defined her face had been smoothed into neutrality.

For a moment, hesitation flickered in her gaze.

She raised her hand and touched her cheek.

The skin felt the same.

The bone beneath felt slightly different.

She lowered her hand.

Valerius stepped beside them.

He stared at his reflection without speaking. His expression did not change, though something in his eyes hardened. He had accepted the transformation without question.

Edward studied the three reflections calmly.

"This is sufficient," he said.

His altered voice echoed faintly against the chamber walls.

"Remember this feeling," he continued. "You must move as though this is your true face. Doubt creates inconsistencies. Inconsistencies invite scrutiny."

Thaleia nodded slowly.

Valerius bowed his head once more.

Edward turned away from the mirror.

"The Atlantis expedition begins soon," he said. "From this moment forward, Edward Vistro does not exist."

He paused briefly.

"If anyone seeks him," he added, "they will find nothing."

The anti-scrying arrays around the chamber flickered faintly as he deactivated the inner layers. The rune circle remained etched into the floor, now dormant.

The transformation was complete.

Three figures stood in the underground chamber.

Strangers.

Ghosts.

And when Atlantis opened its gates, the world would search for champions, nobles, and rivals.

It would not find them.

Because they no longer existed.