Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

Chapter 20 Luck Runs Thin

Ivaim didn't wait for her to finish. He activated [Coin of Fortune], his passive ability that made him just a little luckier.

At the same time, he triggered [Lucky Leap], an ability that could allow him to make a seemingly impossible leap to escape!

The woman lunged, her horns aimed directly at his chest. But at the last moment, Ivaim's body moved in an impossible arc, leaping higher than physics should have allowed.

Her charge slammed into the ground where he'd just been standing, leaving a crater in the cobblestones.

"Close one!" Ivaim called out, landing unsteadily a few meters away. "But you'll have to try harder than that."

Her eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, Ivaim thought he saw amusement in her gaze.

She charged again, faster this time. Ivaim activated [Lucky Leap] once more, vaulting over her horns as they sliced through the air.

He landed on a stack of crates, only for the wood to give way beneath his weight. He tumbled awkwardly to the ground but scrambled to his feet, breathing hard.

The woman didn't even break stride. Her presence pressed down on him, heavier with each passing second.

"You can run, but you can't win," she said, her voice calm, almost conversational. "And deep down, you know that."

"Win?" Ivaim barked a laugh, though it sounded more like a gasp.

"Lady, I'm not even trying to win. I'm just aiming for 'not dead.'"

She didn't reply, instead raising her hand. A surge of red energy erupted from her palm, streaking toward him.

[Coin of Fortune], don't fail me now.

By some miracle, the beam struck a metal lamppost beside him instead, ricocheting into the air. Ivaim bolted, his legs burning as he turned down another alley.

No matter how far he ran, the oppressive weight clung to him like a storm cloud. His breaths came ragged, his legs burned, and his mind waged war against itself.

"You're not fast enough."

"She'll catch you. She's stronger, faster, better."

"This is where it ends."

"No," he hissed through gritted teeth, shaking his head like he could fling the doubts away. "Not today."

He skidded into a sharp turn, the slick cobblestones nearly taking him down.

Activating [Lucky Leap], he vaulted over a collapsed awning, landing awkwardly on the edge of a rooftop. His balance wavered, but somehow he didn't fall.

"Luck can only take you so far..."

As he lay there, trying to steady his breath, Ivaim knew one thing for certain: he couldn't rely on luck forever.

...

On the shattered rooftop, the woman stood still, her red energy dissipating into the air around her.

The acrid smoke from the alley below clouded her vision, but her sharp eyes scanned the area methodically. She tilted her head, listening for any sound—any sign that he was still within reach.

Nothing.

For a moment, frustration flared in her chest, but she quickly smothered it.

She wasn't the type to lose her composure, not over a rogue Reality Master who relied on tricks and fortune to survive.

Instead, she smirked, brushing the dust off her hands.

"Lucky bastard," she murmured, her voice dripping with quiet menace. "But luck is a fleeting thing. It won't save you forever."

She stepped to the edge of the broken rooftop, looking down at the chaos below. The sparks from the wires had died out, leaving only a few stray embers glowing weakly.

The alley was silent now, empty, as if the rogue had never been there at all.

But she knew better. That rogue—a man who had evaded her twice now—was no ordinary Reality Master.

His abilities were unusual, his reflexes sharp, but it was his unrelenting luck that grated on her the most.

Luck wasn't a skill. It wasn't earned. It was borrowed, and like all borrowed things, it could run out.

"I'll admit," she muttered to herself, a sly smile curling her lips. "You're slippery. But even the luckiest mouse gets caught in the end."

Her horns dimmed, the glow fading as she dismissed the last traces of her power. She adjusted the collar of her jacket, her expression calm but her eyes gleaming with cold determination.

To her, this wasn't over—it was merely delayed. She thrived on persistence, on outlasting her prey.

She didn't need to catch him now; she only needed to make sure he had nowhere left to run the next time their paths crossed.

"You can keep leaping, little rogue," she whispered, turning away from the ruined rooftop. "But I'll always be one step ahead."

As she descended into the streets, her mind was already calculating her next move. She would gather information, tighten her net, and make sure that when they met again, there would be no lucky leaps, no miraculous escapes.

This time, he had slipped through her fingers.

But next time, she would make sure there wasn't even a crack for him to escape through.