Von had spent the last few nights circling the academy like a hungry predator. Shadows welcomed him as he drifted beneath their cover, his [Shadow Form] clinging to the edges of light, a silhouette no eye could follow.

  He had tested himself against her already—Kana’s projection—and defeated it. Three minutes. No more, no less. Enough to feel confident, yet… not enough to calm the unease gnawing in his chest.

  The academy had changed. Patrols had doubled, not just in number but in quality. These weren’t bumbling guards. They were specialised scouts—trained ears that could detect the snap of a twig, the hiss of a blade leaving its sheath. A single clash of steel would be enough to summon reinforcements. Reinforcements for her.

  Von clenched his fist. A minute. That was all Kana would need with backup at her side. A minute, and the chance would be lost.

  He pulled the dagger from his cloak. The blade drank the moonlight rather than reflected it, its surface rippling faintly like the surface of black water. A dungeon item—his one constant companion. Its edge pulsed faintly in his hand, as if it knew what he planned.

  His lips curled. “You chose her, didn’t you?”

  The words slipped into the cold air, meant not for himself but for the blade.

  “She’s like me. Your next successor.”

  The dagger pulsed again, as if answering.

  Von exhaled slowly, forcing the weight from his chest. This wasn’t something he could resolve inside the academy. Too many eyes. Too much noise.

  So he took out a piece of parchment. No words, only lines. A map, etched carefully with the paths beyond the capital wall. A quiet grove, far from patrol routes. A place where the clash of steel would die in the trees, unheard by the world.

  He folded it once, sealing his intent in that single crease.

  “If we are the same kind,” Von whispered, “then she’ll come.”

  And if she didn’t? Then perhaps he was mistaken. Mistaken about how the blade chooses its mad successors.

  ….

  Von’s eyes narrowed as he stepped out from the shroud of his [Shadow Form], his presence solidifying like a blade unsheathed. The grove was quiet—too quiet. Not even the crickets dared sing. His focus cut through the night and landed squarely on the red-eyed girl.

  But then, he saw them. Her companions, standing just behind her, their stances relaxed but their eyes alert. Watchers. Witnesses. Obstacles.

  His grip tightened on his dagger. “I didn’t expect you to bring company.” His voice carried low, edged with irritation, though he kept it controlled.

  Kana didn’t flinch. She met his gaze as if she’d been waiting for this moment since the day she was born. “They’re not here to fight,” she said coolly, her grin widening. “They’re here to watch. To witness how I will defeat you.”

  The audacity in her words pulled a bitter chuckle from Von’s throat. He tilted his head, the shadows seeming to cling tighter to his figure. “You’ve become arrogant,” he said softly, almost regretful. “And arrogance is what kills most people.”

  Kana’s red eyes gleamed like burning coals in the darkness. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of her dagger, relaxed, yet coiled, ready to strike. “And you’ve become talkative,” she countered, her voice dipping to a dangerous calm. “Doing what you were not doing before—is a clear sign that you will see death soon.”

  The night seemed to lean in closer, pressing in around them, as though the trees themselves hungered to see which one would fall.

  Von froze, studying her grin. It wasn’t a smile of confidence—it was the thrill of battle itself. His stomach twisted with realization.

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  She was like him.

  Both of them grinned at the edge of death, hearts pounding not from fear but from anticipation. Battle maniacs. Or was it killing maniacs?

  Perhaps… successors weren’t chosen by fate. They simply found each other in the dark.

  ….

  The silence shattered.

  Von’s dagger whispered out of its sheath, shadows rippling along the blade like living smoke. His body dissolved into streaks of black, [Shadow Form] propelling him across the clearing faster than a blink.

  Kana was already moving. Her dagger snapped free in a flash of silver, marble energy flaring from her arm like molten veins. She didn’t dodge. She met him head-on.

  Clang!

  Steel rang out, sparks scattering between them as his dagger struck hers. The impact sent a tremor through the frozen night.

  Von’s eyes widened—her reflexes were sharper than he remembered. She shouldn’t have been able to react that quickly.

  “[Silent Strike]” he hissed, his hand moved like a shadow, undetectable but not from Kana.

  Kana twisted, her dagger carving a clean arc through the air. The marble energy pulsed outward, a ripple that bent the incoming shadows, scattering them into harmless wisps.

  She grinned, red eyes alight. “You’re slower than the last time.”

  Von’s teeth clenched. He slashed again, vanishing mid-swing, reappearing behind her. [Silent Strike]

  Kana’s hand blurred—no, split. For an instant, three of her stood there. His blade carved through one, only for her real dagger to meet his strike from the side.

  Clang! Sparks again.

  The force jolted through his arm. He slid back, boots carving lines into the earth. She hadn’t just blocked—she had read his movement.

  She was using different strikes than last time, fast and with a different pattern. She was not copying him this time. No. She learned from someone.

  Battle maniacs, both of them. And the duel had only just begun.

  …..

  “Oh! Looks like she’s having fun.” Boris rested his spear on his shoulder, though his grin was tight with unease. “The shadow man seemed faster than the last time.”

  “Urgh!” Suri clutched her head, her illusions flickering at the edge of her eyes. She tried to track them, forcing her gaze to follow the faint blur of movement and sparks of clashing steel. “I… still can’t follow them. Too fast.”

  Chelle stood rigid, hands clutching the folds of her cloak. She had attended countless duels as a noble—seen champions clash with gleaming blades under bright arena light during the annual tournament. But here, under the moon’s pale glow, what she witnessed was different. Raw. A duel of death.

  The cloaked man—an assassin, she realized, her mind racing through whispered rumors and forbidden tales—moved like liquid shadow. One moment gone, the next erupting from the ground at Kana’s flank, dagger cutting for her throat.

  Clang!

  A spray of sparks burst as Kana’s dagger intercepted, the sound sharp enough to rattle Chelle’s bones. The force of the clash sent ripples across the clearing, kicking up dust and leaves.

  How? Chelle thought, heart pounding. No student should be able to achieve this at such a very young age.

  The assassin blurred again, reappearing behind Kana in a swirl of darkness. His blade darted forward, faster than Chelle could blink.

  But Kana was already turning, marble energy igniting across her dagger’s edge. Another clash. Another eruption of sparks. Red eyes gleamed with a predator’s thrill, her lips curved in something too sharp to be called a smile.

  Chelle shivered. The hired killer or at least what he looked like fought like a nightmare given form, and yet Kana—her classmate, a girl from nowhere—matched him step for step. No fear, no hesitation. Only cold, precise violence.

  “They’re just warming up,” Boris muttered, his grin fading.

  That single sentence made Chelle’s stomach twist.

  If this wasn’t serious yet—what would it look like when they finally were?

  …

  Suri’s knuckles whitened around her staff. She forced herself not to blink, afraid she’d miss something vital. Yet every clash was a blur—steel kissing steel with a hiss, sparks leaping like fireflies before vanishing into the night.

  She could hear them more than see them. The whistle of blades slicing the air, the thump of boots striking dirt, the sharp scrape when one of them skidded across stone. Her illusions would have been useless here. Even if her eyes could keep up, her mind could not.

  “Ridiculous…” Chelle whispered. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but awe had broken through her noble-trained composure. Her heart slammed in her chest. “How are they still moving that fast? Their arms should’ve given out minutes ago.”

  “They aren’t fighting like humans anymore, I’m not going to last with spending so much energy.” Boris said, frowning now, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Kana’s been going all out all this time. And that guy…” He tilted his chin toward the assassin, who melted into the ground only to erupt behind Kana in a cascade of shadows. “…he’s not fighting to test her. He’s fighting to kill.”

  Clang!

  Kana twisted just in time, the force of the block hurling her back a few steps. Dust sprayed. She laughed—a sharp, unshaken laugh that made Chelle’s skin crawl.

  The assassin did not reply, but Chelle felt his intent like ice pressing against her neck. His movements grew tighter, sharper, as though her amusement fueled his wrath.

  “This isn’t a duel,” Suri munched something, “This is a predator trying to prove who the real predator is.”

  Her words hung heavy if not for the remnants of the food stuck in her teeth. The sparks, the blur of blades, the way the night itself seemed to lean closer—all of it fed into one truth.

  Something was going to break the equal fight soon.

  And when it did, none of them were sure if they’d survive standing so close.