LUCIUS
Shadow.
A legendary affinity whispered in old folklore, feared in battlegrounds, and coveted by assassins. Rarer than rare, special affinities—bestowed upon an individual perhaps once every thousand years. Unlike special or rare affinities that follow the natural order—fire against water, earth against sound—legendary affinities stood above that logic. Immune or deeply resistant to all others, save for those born from the same tier of chaos.
Shadow. Ice. Lightning. Storm. And now, the recently confirmed Shatter. Each is a force of nature, wrapped in mystery, unmatched in its own right.
But Shadow… it was the silence between heartbeats, the unseen movement in a darkened room. It didn't just hide you from your enemy, it erased your existence altogether. A dream for any assassin. A nightmare for anyone else.
I remembered those old teachings, those cautionary tales passed from mentor to apprentice like forbidden scripture, as I stood facing it—this Wraith. A creature that embodied the affinity of Shadow with such casual precision, it made everything I thought I knew feel like scribbled notes on the margins of a forgotten book. And yet, here I was. Alone. In the flesh. And the Wraith? It wasn't done yet.
Around me, the mana moved.
Not just hovered. Not just lingered.
It moved with purpose.
It circled me slowly, like mist drawn to flame. Yet I hadn't summoned it. I hadn't called out. And still, the world's energy reacted, unprovoked. It was unnatural. Impossible.
Or perhaps... something else.
Was the essence of this world trying to protect me?
The thought settled like ice in my stomach. The Wraith, still hooded, its scythe held loosely in hand, hadn't moved since it conjured its weapon. But its presence—it gnawed at the edges of my awareness. There was no face under that hood. Only a void darker than death, deeper than sleep.
And then, it vanished.
Gone in a blink.
My eyes, trained and honed for years, caught nothing but a flicker of after-image. The next heartbeat brought it to my right side, facing away from me, the end of its massive scythe planted on the ground.
No footsteps. No transition.
It simply... was.
But I had been ready. My instincts, sharpened from a lifetime on the edge, flared like fire. With a swift, violent twist of my hips, I swung Snowhite in a clean arc, blazing with ice-white mana. Reinforcement surged through my arms and spine, adding explosive acceleration to the swing.
CLANG!
The sound rang like a bell tolling war. Sparks burst out like wildfire as Snowhite met the cold, curved edge of the Wraith's scythe.
The Wraith hadn't even looked at me. It merely tilted its arm with casual grace and deflected my strike.
I pressed forward, using the crackling ground beneath my boots as leverage. With a lunge that fractured the stone, I re-angled my blade and thrust directly toward the creature's core, aiming for where its heart should have been, if it had one.
But my blade passed straight through.
No resistance. No pain. Just... emptiness.
Like I'd swung through smoke.
The Wraith, in turn, swung its scythe in a perfect vertical arc. The upward slash came from below and to my right, aimed clean for the skies, where my lunge had taken me. With only seconds to react, I twisted mid-air, shifting Snowhite into my right hand just in time.
CLANG!
The second impact was stronger, heavier. This time, the Wraith was no longer toying. I felt it. The pressure behind its swing. I was launched backwards, crashing toward the dense thicket lining the mountainside path.
Trees—thick, ancient, unyielding—loomed in my trajectory.
But I wasn't done.
I reached inward, drawing mana from the air. Telekinesis snapped to life around me, bending the current of my fall. I slowed my descent just enough to twist my posture and plant both feet against the thick bark of a tree, landing horizontally with a sharp thud.
Then, I launched again.
Using every ounce of momentum and focus, I surged toward the Wraith in a second dash. The air tore past my armour as I closed the distance in the blink of an eye.
The Wraith was already ready.
It swung again—this time horizontally. A wide, devastating arc of darkness that whistled through the trees like a song of death. I barely twisted under it, the edge of the scythe missing my throat by inches. Behind me, the force of that slash sheared through several trees in a single blow. They collapsed with a deafening crash, torn apart as if made of paper.
'This soulless monster!'
I gritted my teeth, reinforced my core again, and brought Snowhite back around for a counter—this time fueled with all the strength I could muster.
The third impact was different.
Steel screamed against the shadow.
And for the first time, we were equal.
Neither of us budged. The air exploded around us as mana erupted from our weapons. My senses screamed, and my body ached from the sheer force of the contact.
In that brief, stilled second, I summoned my headgear with a flick of thought. It materialised into my right hand, then clamped down onto my head and sealed in place like the final piece of a puzzle. I felt the weight settle in—but it was light, flexible. Crafted for combat.
Now, I was fully armoured.
Now, I was ready.
And the Wraith?
It still hadn't spoken. No words. No threats. No purpose.
Just silence.
An ancient, suffocating silence that wrapped around the battlefield like a noose.
But I wasn't the same boy who once feared the dark.
I stared into the abyss of that hooded void, and I pointed Snowhite straight at its heartless chest.
"You want my soul?" I growled low.
"Come earn it."
The Wraith moved—offended, maybe.
It glided forward like a phantom, untethered by gravity, yet bound by some half-formed understanding of battle. There was precision in its steps, purpose in its strikes, but the execution lacked finesse. The scythe it wielded, dark and jagged like a crescent torn from midnight, moved awkwardly at times. The intent was lethal, yes—but its arms were untrained. Sloppy. Raw.
Almost... inexperienced.
This thing has never fought before, I realised, reading between its movements.
Rebecca's reports echoed in the back of my mind. "They don't attack hunters. They just observe—hover—vanish. No direct confrontation."
So why now?
Why me?
My blade danced with its scythe again, and again the impact roared across the field, shockwaves splitting the earth beneath us. Every clash felt like a collision between stars—violent, relentless, unpredictable. And yet, a part of me felt oddly in sync with it.
The Wraith was fast. Agile. It hovered without touching the ground, an advantage for most, but not against me.
Because I too excelled in speed. In fluid, adaptive combat. The kind that didn't follow traditional patterns.
It's an S-rank… easily, I calculated mid-swing, which makes two of us.
Only recently had I advanced—my mana core burning brighter, harder than ever before. My control, my speed, my capacity—they'd all grown. And now, standing against this thing… it felt like we were both testing ourselves. Like two newly forged weapons clashing for the first time.
Our duel blurred across the landscape.
From the cracked forest floor to the jagged outcroppings nearby, our momentum carried us like hurricanes bouncing between walls of steel. Each impact relocated us. Each clash cracked the terrain like it had been struck by lightning. The Wraith never truly touched the ground, yet always kept the same measured distance from it, as though restricted by something invisible.
A limitation, I thought. A boundary…
Something I could exploit.
Then, the terrain changed.
A dense mist began crawling across the battlefield, emerging from seemingly nowhere. Snowy and weightless, it crept in like a predator—blanketing the trees, softening sound, clouding visibility. But something about it felt... different.
I should've been at a disadvantage.
But strangely, the opposite happened.
My senses sharpened. The fog heightened my perception. The Wraith, a being seemingly born of mana, resonated more clearly through this new environment—as if the mist unveiled threads of its existence it tried to keep hidden. I could feel it. Hear it. Even anticipate it.
And it didn't like that.
The Wraith reacted oddly to the mist as well—its fluidity disrupted, its grace interrupted by brief moments of hesitation. Confusion. Vulnerability.
I capitalised instantly.
Drawing in ambient mana, I formed several arcs of raw energy, condensed into razor-thin crescent bolts. Each crackled with explosive intent, aimed directly at the Wraith's path. With a thought, I launched them.
The Wraith countered in a flash—its own shadowy projectiles spiralling toward mine. Dark arcs. Violent slashes. I felt them manifest before they were visible. I felt their shape and direction.
I poured more mana into Snowhite, the blade humming with hunger as it drank every drop I fed it. Then—strike. A wide, horizontal slash met the volley.
BOOM.
The explosion ruptured the air like thunder.
Shockwaves tore through the trees, hurling me backwards. My boots skidded, then lost traction entirely. In desperation, I slammed Snowhite into the ground to anchor myself—but it wasn't enough. The second wave came. Then the third.
Each detonation sent me flying again.
I twisted in midair and stabbed into the bark of a towering tree just to stay grounded. The ancient wood groaned under the force, but held.
Breathing hard, I re-centred.
The mist was breaking. Trees stood splintered all around me. Mana saturated the air—heavy, raw, volatile. I extended my senses outward, scanning through the fog.
Nothing.
No sign of the Wraith.
But I could feel it.
A ripple—a faint disturbance on my left.
It emerged from the shadow.
From a tree's shadow, to be exact. Unnatural. Silent.
Too late.
The Wraith lunged.
A scythe slash came screaming toward my core, perfectly aligned to end this fight in a single sweep.
Instinct took over.
I pivoted hard, using my shoulder and Snowhite as dual barriers. Not only did I dodge, I countered, letting the Wraith's trajectory move past me before I slashed downward with all the force I had left.
The strike cleaved through the very tree I'd anchored against just seconds ago, exploding into bits.
But the Wraith escaped again, vanishing into the tree's own shadow just as the tree shattered along with its shadow.
Gone.
Again.
And suddenly, I felt it.
The exhaustion.
The slow, creeping drain of mana.
This is bad.
The Wraith may have access to near-limitless mana—an anomaly sustained by the realm, or perhaps by something darker. But me?
I had limits.
My reserves had already taken a major hit from the barrage, the reinforcement, and the manipulation. My mana rotation was trying to refill, but it wasn't enough. The output was triple the input. I was burning too hot. Too fast.
And worse?
I still hadn't found a way to damage it.
My blade passed through its intangible form. My mana constructs were swatted away or absorbed. The only "advantage" I had was this mysterious mist, and even that was not of my making. I didn't trust it. But I had no choice but to use it.
If this kept up… I wouldn't last.
My breathing slowed. I recalibrated. The mist thickened again, swirling around me like a silent judge. The forest blurred to ghostly outlines. Every footstep crunched over dried leaves and frostbitten grass.
No more time.
No more stalling.
I clenched Snowhite in both hands and shifted my stance lower, forcing every instinct I had into alignment. There was only one truth left.
If I didn't figure something out soon—
This cursed clearing would become my grave.