Mei was checking out her nails on the opposite side of the stands, like she had nothing better to do. When the white light swallowed her, she barely even looked up.

  When she appeared in the arena, she didn’t posture, didn’t tense, didn’t even glance our way. She looked as though she had been placed in the middle of some menial errand—something to be finished quickly, then forgotten. By now, most of us had adapted to the rhythm of the Tower. The nerves had dulled. But Mei’s calm was something else entirely. It wasn’t the calm of composure—it was the calm of disinterest.

  Sosuke leaned forward in his seat, watching intently. He smirked, the corners of his mouth curling like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Prove it.” he muttered, voice carrying low but sharp. “Prove you’re worthy of me.”

  On the far side of the arena, Mei’s clone was trembling. Its arms hung slack at its sides, its shoulders quaking like leaves in the wind. When it spoke, the sound carried across the sand, pitiful and cracked.

  “M-mercy?”

  The word didn’t register at first. It was so far from what any of us had heard until now that it felt alien.

  The clones had been confident, assured of their chances. Some taunted, some mocked, some calculated. But they all fought. This one was begging.

  I couldn’t make sense of it.

  Mei could. She didn’t hesitate. She blurred forward, moving faster than my eyes could fully track, and reappeared behind the clone. Her knife kissed its throat. She spoke softly, casually, as if she were ordering a drink. “Have I ever done so before? Probe my memory.”

  The blade pressed closer, dimples forming against skin. Her grip tightened, her expression unreadable. “Answer my questions, and I’ll make it painless.”

  The clone’s eyes darted in terror. Its mouth worked uselessly, then it shouted, “Shadow Walk!”

  Its body collapsed into darkness, sinking into the arena floor like water down a drain. The shadows scurried across the sand in jagged lines, moving too fast to be a trick of light.

  Mei exhaled faintly, a sigh of boredom. “If that’s your choice.” Her voice dropped lower, colder. “Shadow Walk.”

  She sank into the darkness as well, her body melting away into black. Both shadows streaked across the floor, one panicked, one sadistic.

  The clone’s shadow veered hard left on the wall, desperate to escape. Mei’s prediction was sharper. She burst from the wall itself, her now black arm plunging into the shadow as if it were liquid. Her fingers locked on the clone’s collar inside, and she wrenched it out of hiding, tossing it across the arena with casual force.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Her hand dipped to her belt, and in one clean motion, a knife was airborne. It buried itself in the clone’s thigh.

  The scream that tore loose was raw and broken. The clone drove its own blade into the sand for balance, leg quaking violently. Blood spilled freely down its calf.

  But Mei was gone again. She had vanished so completely that for a second, I forgot she’d been there. My eyes were glued to the clone—its shrieks, its flailing, its pitiful attempt to stay upright.

  Another cry. Louder this time. Higher-pitched. The sound of pure desperation.

  Why wasn’t it fighting back? Why wasn’t it copying her movements? Whatever Mei was doing, it wasn’t her Unique Skill—it was just her. Unless I'm wrong.

  Then Sosuke's words meant something more.

  The clone’s hands trembled as it hissed, “Shadow Zone!”

  A thick circle of darkness rippled outward, engulfing the arena floor in black. Inside, the clone crouched, hugging itself like a terrified child.

  Mei’s voice carried out from everywhere and nowhere, her words steady, almost disdainful. “Pathetic. Someone with my memories is this pathetic?”

  Eli shifted uneasily beside me, fidgeting with his hands. “Even my worst villain wouldn’t act like this.” he muttered. “Not even close.”

  The words made me glance at him. Eli was uneasy. I was uneasy. The others too. Mei wasn’t normal. Couldn’t be normal. Whatever she had been before the Tower, it wasn’t anything ordinary. People don’t do this naturally.

  A knife appeared, gleaming faintly in the dark. Its tip burned red with poison. It sank into the clone’s shoulder, and the sound that followed scraped against my ears.

  “Five seconds.” Mei’s voice said.

  The clone froze. It understood. Immediately, it collapsed inward, curling into a fetal position. Its arms locked around its head, as if it could shield itself from what was coming.

  The countdown ticked in silence.

  Five.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two.

  A knife streaked from the dark and pinned its foot to the ground. The clone wailed, writhing uselessly, blood smearing across the sand.

  “One second.” Mei whispered.

  The clone’s sobbing grew louder, harsher, broken by hiccups of terror.

  Then the sky answered.

  A blade fell from above, whistling through the air, and drove cleanly through the crown of the clone’s skull. The body convulsed once, then snapped backward, stiff as a board. When it hit the ground, it didn’t move. The Shadow Zone dissolved instantly, leaving only the corpse sprawled in the sand.

  Mei stepped from the dissipating darkness like a phantom returning to flesh. She strolled toward her kill, calm, deliberate. Kneeling, she tugged the knife free with one hand, spinning it idly before sliding it back into her holster.

  Her eyes lingered on the body. Her lips curled downward. “Even in death,” she muttered, “you disappoint me.”

  She lowered herself to the corpse’s level, staring into her own dead face. Her expression warped, twisted, a crack in her calm exterior. Her fist snapped forward, smashing into the corpse’s cheek.

  The sound was dull and wet.

  Again.

  And again.

  Her knuckles split after six punches, blood streaking across pale skin. She laughed, a hollow sound with no warmth. “Seeing my visage on something so weak...” She slammed her fist down harder, each strike leaving the head less recognizable. “It makes me lose my mind.”

  By the time she stopped, the body was mangled beyond recognition, its head a ruin of blood and sand.

  She rose, brushing herself off casually, as if she hadn’t just brutalized her own reflection. She finally looked back at us.

  "I'm sure you're wondering what I am after that."

  We sure are.

  She smiled. “I'm an assassin. Isn't that obvious?"