The streets of the magical world were quiet, but I could feel it, the weight in the air, the unnatural stillness between the floating lanterns. Shadows stretched unnaturally, and the faint hum of residual mana teased at the edges of my awareness.

  I kept moving, hands brushing the hidden mana at my pocket. Every instinct screamed caution. I wasn’t looking for trouble, but somehow, trouble had already found me.

  A subtle flicker caught my eye, a movement in the corner of my vision. Then another. Three figures stepped from the shadows, masks hiding their faces, their presence sharp and impossible to ignore.

  Power radiated from them, precise and controlled. Spells hummed faintly in the air around their hands. They didn’t need to speak. The threat was clear.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the tallest one said, voice calm but edged with authority.

  I hesitated, calculating. They were strong, far stronger than anyone I’d faced outside the arena. My fingers twitched near my hidden mana. I could fight, I could try to dodge, but was it enough?

  The first strike hit. A jet of force slammed into my side, knocking the wind from my lungs. Pain flared sharply as my ribs cracked under the impact. I stumbled backward, barely catching myself.

  They moved with synchronized precision. Fire licked the alley walls. Ice shards stabbed at my legs. Shadows whipped across my vision, disorienting me. I tried minor bursts of energy to shield myself, but it barely slowed them.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Another strike shattered my left arm. The sharp, white-hot pain made me grit my teeth, vision waver. A flash of dizziness hit me. If I fell now, I might not get back up.

  For a moment, panic threatened. Every instinct screamed at me, run, hide, do something, but the alley left no room for escape. They pressed in, relentless. Each strike drove home the truth: these weren’t ordinary attackers. They were elite, deadly, and they had come for me.

  My chest tightened. Every nerve screamed. My fingers brushed my mana again, hesitating over the dangerous possibility. DOOM.

  I swallowed hard. Its power could save me, but at what cost? My body, my mind, both could break.

  The third strike hit my leg, shattering it. Agony flared, hot and blinding. I could barely breathe.

  No choice.

  “DOOM.”

  Time fractured. The air around me twisted, reality itself bending. Pain tore through my chest and arms. Blood erupted from my mouth and on my clothes. Vision blurred, fuzzy and red-tinted. Sounds stretched and warped. The alley seemed to fold in on itself.

  I stood through it. Through the chaos. Through the burning pain and the nausea that threatened to pull me under.

  When the haze cleared just enough for me to focus, the three attackers were sprawled across the ground, bruised and battered, unconscious. The alley was silent except for the faint hum of residual magic and my ragged breathing.

  I swayed, leaning against a wall to keep from collapsing. Slowly, I pulled the masks from the attackers.

  Familiar faces stared back at me. Women whose names I had read in news reports, competitions, and elite magical circles. Powerful magic users. Recognized across the magical world. And now, they had come for me.

  Their expressions were unreadable even in unconscious repose, but the aura around them was undeniable, elite, controlled, and strangely focused on me.

  I let out a shaky breath, vision still wobbling, blood slick along my chin. The alley stretched around me, silent and still. The weight of the night pressed down, heavy and insistent.

  And then darkness claimed me.