CHAPTER 178: FACELESS IMPOSTER VS ALICE [2]

Alice’s blade lowered just an inch—not in hesitation, but in preparation.

Her eyes hardened, their frost cutting deeper than steel. "So you admit it."

The Imposter’s head cocked to the side, the smooth blankness of his "face" somehow twisting into mockery.

"Admit? My dear Lady, I boast. The Duke of the North is no small prey. To monitor his kin, his soldiers, his very bloodline... that is my art."

Alice’s jaw tightened. She could feel the faint hum of the wards, broken and smothered, crawling against her senses. The Imposter’s words weren’t idle taunts—he truly had been lurking, watching, studying.

Julies.

Her thoughts flickered briefly to his steady presence at her side, his quiet loyalty, the unspoken trust they had built. The idea of some faceless monster’s gaze prying into that bond made her blood boil.

"Demon or not," Alice said, her voice low and lethal, "you’ve made one mistake."

"Oh?" the Imposter purred, stepping lightly to the side, as casual as a man taking a stroll through a garden. "Enlighten me, Lady."

"You showed yourself."

With that, Alice lunged.

Steel flashed under the torchlight, swift and precise, aimed to sever the blank figure in two. The Imposter slipped aside with unnatural grace, his movements liquid, almost boneless, and Alice’s strike cut through empty air.

He laughed, a sound both too human and not human at all. "Good! Very good! That conviction—that edge—no wonder they call you the northern wolf."

Alice spun, her stance never breaking, sword poised to strike again.

But as she faced him, the Imposter’s form shimmered.

For a heartbeat, Julies stood before her.

His sharp eyes dark blue eyes, his familiar bearing, his raven black hair—it was perfect. A mirror.

"Lady Alice," the copy of Julies said softly, his tone identical, his eyes almost tender. "It’s me."

Alice’s grip faltered by a fraction—but only a fraction.

Her chest ached at the sight, at the deliberate cruelty of it. But her voice rang clear.

"You’ve already failed."

And she struck again, blade slashing across the impostor-Julies’s chest, cutting straight through the illusion.

The figure dissolved like smoke, reforming once more into the faceless blankness.

The Imposter clutched his chest as though wounded, though Alice’s blade had cut nothing but air. "Cold... so cold. You’d strike down your own servant without pause?"

Alice’s gaze blazed. "That was not Julies. He would never hide behind lies."

The Imposter chuckled, low and dangerous. "Ah, your faith is touching."

And at the same time, The imposter once again change it’s face...And Julies was once again standing in front of the Alice with sword in it’s hand.

"This time.... I’ll kill you, My Lady."

Alice’s pulse hammered, but her face remained like stone.

The Imposter’s mimicry was flawless—The weight of the sword in his grip. Even his voice carried that subtle edge of restrained fire.

But Alice did not waver.

"That sword," she said coldly, raising her own, "isn’t his. Julies draws his blade only to protect. Not to threaten me."

The Imposter sneered with Julies’s lips, a cruel parody of a smile. "And yet... if I wear him long enough, who’s to say I won’t become him? Would you even know the difference, Alice?"

Clang—!

Her answer was steel.

She struck first, their blades crashing together with a ringing crack that echoed through the narrow passageway. Sparks scattered in the dim torchlight as the Imposter pushed back, his stolen form brimming with unnatural strength.

Alice’s feet slid across the stone, but her stance held firm. Her wrist twisted, redirecting his weight, and with a snap of precision she broke free, slashing at his side.

The Imposter leapt back, the blow missing by an inch.

"Sharp," he murmured, circling her, his stolen eyes gleaming like predators. "But you fight more fiercely against him than you did against me. Is it guilt that drives you, Lady? Or fear?"

Alice’s breath was steady, her voice ice. "Neither. It’s loyalty."

The Imposter lunged.

His blade, a mirror of Julies’s style, came in swift arcs she recognized—training patterns she had once witnessed countless times. The cruel familiarity stabbed deeper than any steel. But Alice’s conviction was unshakable.

Each parry, each strike, she answered not with hesitation but clarity.

"You can steal his face. You can mimic his sword. But his heart? His honor? You will never have them."

Her sword locked with his, sparks spraying as the clash rang out. With a surge of strength, she forced him back, driving the imposter-Julies against the wall.

For the first time, the Faceless Imposter’s form wavered.

The blankness beneath his stolen guise rippled, his voice breaking into a shrill echo as he hissed, "Then I’ll carve out his place with your blood!"

Alice’s eyes narrowed.

"Try it."

CLANG!

Alice’s blade smashed against the Imposter’s copy of Julies’s sword, the shockwave rattling the walls of the narrow corridor. The vibration traveled up her arm, but her grip never loosened.

SCRAAAANG!

Sparks sprayed as steel scraped steel, their blades locking, grinding together like wolves’ fangs bared in challenge. The Imposter pushed, his stolen face twisted in a sneer, but Alice shoved back with raw willpower.

"You’re no Julies."

"Funny," the Imposter hissed, twisting free.

WHOOSH!

His blade cut through the air, a blur aimed for her throat.

Alice ducked low, the edge skimming a strand of her silver hair.

SHIIING!

Her counterstrike rose upward in the same motion, catching the Imposter’s weapon mid-swing. The corridor rang with the violent clash.

BANG!

The impact forced them apart, boots skidding against stone.

The Imposter lunged again, his motions a cruel mimicry of Julies’s training sequences—steps Alice knew well, arcs she could almost anticipate. But each move was exaggerated, corrupted, sharpened with malice.

KLANG! KLANG! KLANG!

Their blades struck in rapid succession, a staccato rhythm of fury. Alice’s muscles burned, her chest tightened, but her eyes blazed with certainty.

"Even if you master his form, you’ll never master his spirit!"

SLASH!

Her sword tore across the Imposter’s chest, the blade biting through fabric and illusion alike. For a breath, "Julies’s" face rippled, warping into the faceless void beneath.

The Imposter staggered, then let out a guttural laugh.

HAH—HAH—HAH!

The sound warped, too human and too hollow at once.

"You’re strong, Lady Wolf," he spat, his voice distorting as his form wavered. "But strength alone doesn’t save the ones closest to you..."

His blade came down, fast as lightning.

CRAAAAANG!

Alice caught it, their swords locking again, edges grinding with a screech. The force drove her knee to the stone, but her teeth clenched, her arms steady.

The Imposter leaned close, his blank face inches from hers, voice dripping venom. "Tell me, Alice... would you still strike me down if I wore his smile when I begged for mercy?"

Her answer was steel and fury.