Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 400 (Part 1):

“Find me.”

Helmut’s reaction was a beat slow.

“……What?”

“There are twelve of them. Try to find me among them.”

It was a riddle. Helmut raised an eyebrow.

“If you find me, you win. If you don’t… you lose.”

Alea flashed a meaningful smile but offered no further explanation. Left with nothing but questions, Helmut waited.

A moment later, the match finally began. Instinctively, he moved.

‘I don’t understand what she means, but if I subdue her, it’s over.’

Mages were easier opponents for Helmut—their movements were sluggish when reacting to attacks.

Alea wasn’t far away. For him, she was within striking distance in half a breath.

No matter how fast her spellcasting was, if he restrained her before the magic activated, she’d have no recourse.

Although Helmut hadn’t agreed to play along with her game, if he completely ignored her challenge, Alea would likely be furious.

Alea in a rage… it felt as if someone were holding his legs back. They felt heavy.

Yet in that moment, Helmut felt a twinge of suspicion.

‘Is she just trying to win by messing with my head?’

In matters like this, Helmut didn’t trust Alea. Regardless, he ended his brief deliberation and lunged.

This was a martial tournament. A fight he had to win.

His sword remained sheathed at his waist. If he fought bare-handed, even in the worst-case scenario, he wouldn’t seriously injure her.

But before his fingers could even graze her, Alea’s figure melted into the air as if vanishing.

His hand swept through empty space. Suddenly, darkness draped over his vision.

It wasn’t a spell blinding him. The darkness enveloped the entire stage like nightfall.

A magic more refined and potent than Sian’s dark spirits.

‘Even if my vision is blocked…’

His other senses were still intact—until they weren’t. This magic wasn’t simply limiting his sight. It was robbing his hearing and even dulling his sense of touch as though all sensation had been paralyzed.

Pure, pitch-black darkness. If the opponent moved in close, he’d know. But he sensed no approach aimed at him.

Helmut reached for his sword. If this darkness was magic, he could cut through it. But at that moment, a white light flickered before his eyes.

Twelve.

At last, he understood Alea’s words. Within the darkness stood twelve humanoid figures of radiant white light.

Exactly twelve. One of them was the real Alea.

Her voice echoed from somewhere.

[Guess wrong, and you lose. Understood?]

An offer he couldn’t refuse. In this darkness, unless he was prepared to destroy the entire stage, Helmut wouldn’t find Alea.

Slashing wildly wasn’t an option to begin with. Slowly, he lowered his sword.

Twelve lights. Astonishingly, each felt identical.

No matter how intricate the illusion magic, there should be flaws—especially against a swordsman of Helmut’s caliber.

Had these twelve Aleas stood before him without the darkness, he would’ve easily identified her true body.

But with his senses numbed, how could he tell which was real?

It was quite the puzzle. Whenever he moved within a certain distance, the glowing figures flitted away in an instant.

‘I can’t get within five steps, huh.’

Helmut slowly surveyed the twelve figures.

*Find the real one without attacking or touching, within a bounded field.* To most swordsmen, this would seem impossible.

‘But there must be a way.’

Surely, there was a clue hidden somewhere. Among these twelve illusions, one was the real Alea, while the others were mere phantoms. There had to be a difference.

The scene was surreal—only darkness and light existed.

External sounds faded, with only intermittent murmurs from the audience reaching him.

To them, the stage was swallowed in darkness, the events within a mystery. This match would undoubtedly be a dull spectacle.

As Helmut studied the twelve figures, frustration gnawed at him.

If they had substance, he’d sense it—but in this windless space, all twelve presences were indistinct. He couldn’t distinguish real from fake.

‘Hm.’

Frowning, Helmut suddenly froze. Something had registered—not sight, hearing, or touch.

Smell.

A faint, crisp scent, like lemon, tickled his nose. Familiar.

He recognized it—the fragrance of Alea’s hair. She likely hadn’t accounted for scent.

No, his sense of smell was simply too sharp. Alea probably assumed her body was nearly odorless.

But Helmut, raised in the forest, was sensitive to foreign scents. He could detect even the faintest trace. In this vast space, a singular aroma stood out.

‘Could even scent be fabricated by illusion magic?’

His doubt was swiftly answered.

No—if that were the case, all twelve would carry the same scent. It seemed Alea hadn’t masked smell.

Tracking the source, Helmut pointed decisively.

“Alea.”

His finger singled out the third figure from the left. A question echoed from the void.

[Are you sure?]

“I’m sure.”

[Then let’s see the answer.]

Otaku_Tensei

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