[System Record: Combat Log // Round 1 (Continued)] Date: Year 61, February 28th Location: Sector 98 – The Ruins of the Grand Arena Status: Combat Active / Unauthorised Deathmatch Health: 12% (Critical Bleeding / Adrenaline Surge)

  The Silent Shadow laughed—a wet, physical gurgle behind his smoke mask.

  "Look at you," he hissed, twirling a dagger made of solidified darkness. "Broken ribs. Internal bleeding. You’re barely holding your organs inside your skin. And you want to fight me?"

  He has a point, boss, the Light Devil chirped in the furniture of Lack's mind. You are a squashed tomato. A very heroic, very stupid tomato. Maybe we should play dead? I'm good at playing dead. I do it every time you try to talk to a girl.

  "Shut up," Lack gritted out, blood dripping from his chin onto the shattered stone.

  "Talking to yourself?" The Shadow lunged. "Shadow Art: Umbra Fang."

  He thrust the dagger. The shadow stretched, extending three metres instantly to pierce Lack’s heart.

  Unable to dodge on jelly legs, Lack slapped the air. Snap. Vibration.

  He targeted the air density around the shadow blade. The vibration disrupted the mana coherency. The solid shadow wavered, losing its physical form and changing direction just before it scratched Lack’s arm.

  "What?" The Shadow drew back. "You disrupted the construct?"

  "Physics," Lack wheezed, spitting a glob of blood. "Shadows... aren't solid matter. They are... mana constructs. Unstable."

  Oh, look at the big brain on the dying boy! The Devil cackled. Now, hit him! Or run! Preferably run!

  The Shadow growled, his mask swirling with frustration. "Fine. If you can break one, can you break a hundred? Shadow Art: Nightfall Volley!"

  The assassin raised his hands. The smoke from the explosion swirled around him, coalescing into dozens of floating needles. The arena was dim, the sun blocked by the dust cloud. Perfect conditions for a Shadow user.

  "Die."

  The needles fired.

  Lack’s Vibration Radar screamed. Too many angles. He couldn't parry them all. He needed to change the environment.

  [Illogical Logic Idea: Photonic Saturation] Premise: You cannot fight the darkness in the dark. You must change the room.

  "Devil," Lack shouted internally. "Full output! Burn the battery!"

  Finally! The Devil cheered. Let's blind the bastard! Operation: Supernova!

  Lack didn't aim at the Shadow. He aimed at himself.

  "Mixture Art: Flashbang."

  FWWOOOOM.

  Lack didn't just glow. He detonated a sphere of pure, blinding white light. In the dust-choked arena, the light didn't travel far, but the intensity was absolute.

  It was noon in a bottle.

  The shadows on the ground—the assassin's source of power—didn't just fade. They shrank. The intense light directly above them forced every shadow to retreat to the soles of their shoes.

  The Shadow Needles, cut off from their darkness, evaporated mid-air.

  "My shadows!" The Silent Shadow screamed, covering his eyes. "It burns!"

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "Can't cast a shadow..." Lack coughed, stepping forward through the blinding light, "...when the sun is right in your face."

  Ha! Look at him squirm! The Devil laughed maniacally. He's like a vampire at a tanning salon! Hit him, boss! Hit him while he's squinting!

  Lack forced his broken legs to move. Agility 398. Even injured, he was fast.

  He closed the distance. The assassin was disoriented, his dark vision blinded by the Abyss-tier light. The Shadow flailed blindly with his dagger. "Stay back!"

  Lack ducked under the wild swing. He was inside the guard. He didn't have the strength for a Vacuum Cannon. He barely had the strength to make a fist. So he used Precision.

  He placed his open palm on the Shadow’s solar plexus.

  Snap. Internal Disruption.

  He sent a focused vibration wave straight through the assassin's ribs, bypassing the flesh, targeting the diaphragm and the lungs.

  THRUM.

  The Shadow’s eyes bulged behind the mask. The air was forcefully ejected from his lungs. His body seized up, paralysed by the sudden biological reboot. He dropped the dagger. He fell to his knees, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

  Lack stood over him, swaying. The light faded.

  "Game over," Lack whispered.

  He raised his fist to knock the assassin out.

  BOOM.

  The ground shook. A massive pressure descended on the arena.

  Professor Valerius landed. His Astral Shield was glowing gold, pushing back the lingering smoke. Behind him were a dozen faculty members, weapons drawn.

  "Cease!" Valerius roared.

  The Silent Shadow's focus snapped from Valerius to the exit. The mathematical reality locked in: escape was impossible. He reached for a pill in his collar—a suicide capsule.

  "Oh no you don't," Lack growled.

  He kicked the assassin’s hand. Strength 372. CRACK. The hand shattered. The pill flew away.

  "ARGH!" The Shadow screamed.

  Valerius stepped forward, a cage of golden light springing up around the assassin. "Secure him!" Valerius ordered.

  Faculty members rushed in, binding the Silent Shadow in anti-magic chains.

  Valerius turned to Lack. The uniform was shredded. Blood pooled on the stone. The hydraulic gloves were reduced to twisted scrap. Yet, absolute defiance burned in the boy's eyes.

  "Flameheart," Valerius rumbled. "You... secured the target."

  "I..." Lack tried to salute, but his arm wouldn't listen. "I have the receipt... Professor."

  He pointed to the scorched Evidence Bag lying in the rubble.

  "The bomb..." Lack mumbled, his vision tunnelling. "Shadow Faculty... Evidence..."

  You did good, kid, the Devil whispered, his voice fading as Lack's consciousness slipped. Now go to sleep. I'll keep the heart beating. Maybe.

  Lack’s knees buckled. He fell forward.

  He didn't hit the ground. A field of gentle gravity caught him.

  Lyra Starlight floated down, her face pale. She hovered him inches off the floor.

  "He's critical," Lyra shouted at the medics, her usually cool voice cracking. "Get the Stasis Pod! Now!"

  Lyra’s terrified face hovered inches above him before the darkness completely took over; Valerius nodded, broadcasting absolute, heavy respect.

  Then, the darkness took him. Not the Shadow. Just sleep.

  ? ? ?

  [System Record: Recovery Ward] Date: Year 61, February 31st Location: University Medical Ward (ICU) Time: 72 Hours Later

  The beeping was annoying. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Lack opened his eyes. White ceiling. Smell of antiseptic.

  Welcome back, sleeping beauty, the Light Devil yawned. You were out for 72 hours. Your ribs are knit, but you itch everywhere. Also, you have a visitor. Try not to drool.

  Lack turned his head. Sitting in the chair next to his bed wasn't Torin. It wasn't Lyra.

  It was Professor Valerius.

  The massive Astral God vessel was reading a report. Lack's shifting weight broke his focus.

  "Awake," Valerius stated. It wasn't a question.

  "Professor," Lack croaked. "The... Shadow?"

  "In custody," Valerius said, closing the file. "He talked. Or rather, his mind broke under interrogation and the truth spilled out. A rogue faction within the Shadow Faculty. They call themselves the Dreallytear."

  Valerius leaned forward.

  "You saved hundreds of students, Flameheart. You exposed a terrorist cell. And you won the match."

  "We won?" Lack blinked.

  "By default. The opposing team was... unavailable."

  Valerius stood up.

  "The Council wanted to expel you for bringing a 'device' into the arena. I overruled them. You are a hero, cadet. But heroes make enemies."

  He placed a document on Lack's chest.

  [Deployment Order: Northern Border] [Unit: The Illogical Club] [Commander: General Valerius]

  "You wanted to go to the Military Camp," Valerius said. "Request approved. You and your misfits are coming with me to the Northern Wall - Neutral Territory (Sector 2355). The Astral Line."

  "Why?" Lack asked.

  "Because the Dreallytear will try to kill you again," Valerius said simply. "And the only place safe from assassins... is the front line of the War. Pack your bags, Flameheart. You leave in two weeks’ time."

  Valerius walked out.

  Lack's focus anchored to the order. The Northern Wall. Where the Gods fought the pure Devils.

  Out of the frying pan, the Devil giggled. Into the nuclear reactor. I love it.

  ? ? ?

  [System Record: Character Progression] Status: Recovering. Reputation: Hero of the Arena. Next Destination: The Northern Wall - Sector 2355