I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 111: Inside the Tower Part 7

The Lady of Illusion floated high above them now, her glowing form pulsing with raw arcane energy. The runes she’d cast were still circling, warping the chamber’s space and air into something half-real, half-nightmare. Every breath Inigo took felt like it came with a pound of pressure pressing on his lungs.

But there was no turning back.

He adjusted the foregrip on his M4A1 Carbine, pulling it tight against his shoulder. Beside him, Lyra crouched low, her bow drawn, eyes locked on the Lady’s shifting form.

"We go on three," Inigo said, voice tight, clipped. "We stick to live fire and keep our heads clear. Don’t believe anything you see unless it bleeds."

Lyra nodded.

"One."

He pulled a flashbang from his vest and yanked the pin.

"Two."

He threw it high.

"Three!"

The flashbang exploded mid-air in a searing burst of light and sound, forcing the Lady to react. The shimmer of her runes twisted, faltering for a fraction of a second. That was all the window they needed.

Inigo opened fire—controlled bursts. The 5.56mm rounds, enchanted by default from the earlier upgrade, traced across her silhouette, forcing her to maneuver midair.

Lyra followed up with three arrows, all aimed at her lower torso. Two deflected off her remaining illusion shields, but the third struck flesh—real flesh. It left behind a trail of black mist.

"She’s not phasing fully anymore," Inigo said, ducking behind a chunk of fallen stone. "We’re grounding her."

"Then keep her grounded," Lyra called, rolling across the chamber and firing again. Her arrows glowed faintly now—light-imbued heads that sparked when they hit the runic walls, leaving visible trails.

The Lady countered at last. She flung a hand downward and cast a wide wave of psychic force. The air screamed. Stone cracked. Inigo felt like his brain was being twisted sideways—but his Ops-Core helmet’s anti-flash and sound-dampening tech kept him functional.

He dove to the left, narrowly avoiding a slab of psychic energy that splintered a bone pillar behind him.

"That would’ve liquefied me," he muttered.

He pulled his M203 grenade launcher from his side, already loaded with a 40mm HE round. He took a breath, peeked out, and aimed directly at her altitude.

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The round left the barrel with a satisfying thunk and detonated just meters from her. The blast blew her sideways, knocking her against one of her own summoned sigils. It shattered like glass, and she shrieked—a sound that pierced the soul.

Inigo switched back to rifle and fired again. This time, his shots found more purchase—one hitting her shoulder, another grazing her ribs. Blood—a deep violet—splashed into the air and turned into smoke before hitting the floor.

The runes she controlled started spiraling faster, more erratic. The room itself began shifting again, the walls folding like pages of a book. But this time, Inigo was ready. He toggled his AN/PVS-31 night vision goggles—not for darkness, but for infrared and magic signature overlays. Her movements stood out in bright gold.

"Got you," he muttered.

He tagged her with his PEQ-15 IR laser, marking her for Lyra. "She’s right behind that twisted pillar!"

Lyra spun, loosed an arrow—and hit her in the leg. The Lady cried out and vanished in a blur of smoke, but this time her cloak didn’t reform properly. A chunk of her torso flickered.

"She’s losing her illusion focus," Inigo said, sprinting forward and leaping onto an elevated platform. "We keep the pressure up."

The Lady retaliated with a sharp gesture.

Reality bent again.

This time, they were flung sideways into what looked like a moonlit forest.

Trees surrounded them.

Wind whispered in a language they didn’t know.

Inigo blinked. He looked at Lyra.

"Not real."

He turned in a circle—nothing, no threat in sight. Then the shadows moved.

A dozen cloaked figures stepped forward. They looked like versions of people they’d lost—Korrik, Arienne, even Inigo’s old unit from Earth. All of them were smiling. Peaceful.

"Don’t listen," Inigo warned, raising his rifle.

The specters advanced.

He fired again—short bursts. The illusions flickered, shattered, but new ones took their place. Behind him, Lyra shouted in alarm as one of the fake Korriks got too close.

"Enough!"

Inigo pulled his M67 frag grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it into the center of the illusions.

The boom was immediate.

The entire false forest shattered like a mirror.

Back to the chamber. Back to the real fight.

The Lady of Illusion was visibly weakened now. She stood on the edge of her floating dais, bleeding from three spots. Her lips were curled into a snarl—less ethereal now, more monstrous.

She wasn’t smiling anymore.

"I’ll end your bloodline," she spat, voice layered with echoes, as if spoken by hundreds.

"No thanks," Inigo said. "Already ended yours."

He pulled out his final weapon—a Carl Gustaf M4 recoilless rifle, modern and brutal. He slung it onto his shoulder, adjusted the aim, and targeted the Lady’s dais.

Lyra gave him a wide berth.

"Eat this."

The 84mm round flew true.

It struck the edge of her dais—and the explosion blasted her backward into one of her own corrupted pillars. She shrieked, twisting in the air. Another sigil shattered.

She hit the ground—hard.

For a second, the chamber was silent.

Then she rose.

Slowly. Unsteadily. Her robes were torn, her face bloodied. Her eyes still glowed—but dimly.

"Lyra," Inigo said. "Your last shot."

Lyra drew a special arrow. One she’d enchanted herself with Arienne’s help, weeks before. A pure white head tipped with runes of clarity.

She took a breath.

And fired.

The arrow hit the Lady’s chest—and didn’t explode.

It imploded.

The Lady let out one final scream, and her form began to collapse in on itself, sucked into a tiny point of light. Her illusions shattered. The chamber shook. The runes vanished, and the air cleared.

Silence.

Real silence.

Inigo staggered forward, breathing heavily. "Is she dead?"

Lyra lowered her bow. "I don’t know."

The ground beneath them rumbled.

A pulse of light surged through the floor, and for a second, it felt like time stopped.

Then—nothing.

Just the ruined chamber.

"Then we hold until we’re sure," Inigo said. "No mistakes."

They stood there for minutes. Maybe longer.

But the Lady did not return.

And for the first time since Hollowmere, Inigo allowed himself a breath of hope.

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