Loop Nexus, Lakefront metropolis
Terra, Gaea Solar system
Neutral Free Zone
January 14th 219
One thing Emily hated most was lying—especially to Leon. She held her breath, waiting for him to leave the room. When she could no longer sense his presence, Emily pulled out her Zodiak device. She switched it on and accessed the Starlight network. Emily had already sent Ginny images of the strange symbols on the tunnel wall, hoping she could decipher them. But now, she needed Ginny's help with something else. Memories she had pried from the Erlking's mind resurfaced. Searching through the corrupted mind of the Erlking hadn't taken much effort. Before, Emily had encountered minds damaged by Infernal energy, so delving into his psyche was familiar territory.
One memory had caught her attention—it stood out because she recognized it. It was a standard code used by the Starlight Order for geographical coordinates, written in Celestial runes. What the hell was a Starlight code doing in the mind of a Beastman? Especially one from Terra? Emily knew she should have told Leon about it. They were supposed to be in this together. But then again, there were things neither of them told each other. Ever since they had left Agartha and gone into exile in the Neutral Free Zone, Leon had become more agitated than usual. He tried to mask it, but Emily knew him—maybe better than she knew herself. They had pursued every clue they could find regarding the Fallen Star's whereabouts, yet they always came up short. Leon's obsession with tracking down members of the Fallen Star baffled Emily. She had asked herself the same question for the past eight years: Was it revenge? Was that what drove him to such extremes?
Emily wasn't sure about the coordinates she had extracted from the Erlking's mind, which was why she hadn't told Leon yet. If they were clues, she needed to be certain before involving him. She entered the codes into the location algorithm, using the holographic interface that allowed her to access the Zodiak Network. Emilly was impressed with the level of technology that the Hidden World of Terra possessed. It was not comparable to the Federation, but it was more advanced than the technology on the Mundane side. As she searched for her target, she came up empty. Something wasn't right.
"Ziron, contact Ginny," Emily commanded the tablet.
"Affirmative," the mechanical voice replied, its tone booming. A flash of light illuminated the room as a hologram of Ginny materialized. She was clad in a white coat, her goggles pushed up onto her forehead. Burn stains marred her face, and her blond hair was disheveled—likely the result of whatever experiment had consumed her attention. Despite her youthful appearance, which made her look like a bratty sixteen-year-old, Emily knew better than to underestimate her.
"Oh gods, it's you, Emily," Ginny said flatly, her tone lacking any trace of enthusiasm. Emily felt a twinge of disappointment at the girl's reaction. Ginny had probably assumed Leon was the one reaching out. Emily couldn't blame her—half their class at the Academy had been infatuated with Leon, and the other half had likely slept with him. Ginny had been no exception to his charms. Clearing her throat, Emily straightened her posture, making it clear she meant business.
"There's something I need you to check out," she said, her voice cold and detached. "I'm sending it to you now." Ginny shuddered slightly at Emily's icy tone as the data transferred from Emily's Zodiak to hers.
"Do you see it?" Emily asked.
"Yeah, some kind of code. A geographical code," Ginny replied impatiently. Her tone hinted that Emily had interrupted something important. "You know you could just use your precious Starlight Network to track this down, right?"
"I already tried that," Emily said curtly. "It looks similar to the coordinates we normally use, but the Network doesn't recognize it." Ginny squinted at the holographic projection of the code, her lips twisting in thought.
"Hmm, that's because these coordinates aren't in Starlight's database," she said matter-of-factly. Then, narrowing her eyes, she added, "Does this have anything to do with that unapproved mission you and Leon are on—or those strange symbols you sent me?" Emily's jaw tightened. She stared at the girl, a faint twitch at the corner of her lips betraying her growing annoyance.
"Yes, it's really important to Leon that we know where the coordinates lead," Emily said, her expression cool as she lied. She had no qualms about using Leon's name to manipulate Ginny into doing what she wanted.
"Hmm. Okay, but make sure you tell him I helped with his mission, alright?" Ginny replied. Emily gave a slight nod. Satisfied, Ginny smiled and turned her attention to the task. It took her about fifteen to twenty minutes before she finally spoke again.
"Wow. Whoever created this code was good," Ginny said, sounding impressed.
"But you cracked it?" Emily asked tentatively. Ginny mockingly raised her eyebrows.
"Duh. Of course I did," she said smugly. "It didn't take long to figure out the type of code it was. It's similar to the ones Starlight uses, but there's a slight difference. That's why the system couldn't break it. Whoever made this went to a lot of trouble to hide the location. I tracked it to somewhere in Chicago—not far from where you are. It looks like some kind of facility. I suppose it could be a Starlight outpost, but there's no record of it in the Starlight database. And that's weird. Federation law states that all Starlight Order bases in Neutral Free Zones must be registered. Where exactly did you get this?"
"I can't say right now," Emily replied, her voice guarded. She still couldn't believe that Ginny had managed to hack into the Starlight database system—a network located millions of light-years away.
"Well, whatever it is, it sounds dangerous," Ginny said, her tone shifting to one of caution. "I've sent you the coordinates. Tell Leon to be careful."
"Sure," Emily replied as she glanced at the coordinates. Ginny was right—the location was on this planet. Emily couldn't fathom how the Erlking had obtained this information or why Leon's source had pointed them toward it. That's when something else struck her.
"Hey, do me and Leon a favor," Emily said.
Ginny raised an eyebrow, her impatience becoming more evident. "What now?"
"Contact the Golden Dawn and see if they can send a clean-up crew," Emily said.
"For what?" Ginny asked, frowning.
"We killed an Erlking infected with Infernal energy. There's a chance it left residual energy behind, and it needs to be cleansed," Emily explained. She realized, with a pang of guilt, that in her rush to get out of the sewer, she'd forgotten to perform a purification ritual. The presence of an Abomination in Terra had already been shocking, but if the Infernal energy spread, there was a real risk of a human becoming infected and turning.
Ginny sighed, her irritation barely concealed. "Fine. I'll take care of it. But you owe me."
Emily gave a small nod, her mind already racing with the implications of what they had uncovered.
"That would be kind of great," Emily said.
"Sure, anything for Leon," Ginny said, and with that, she was gone. Emily sighed, turning her attention back to the coordinates. The location was at Promontory Point in Burnham Park. Whatever this was, she needed to check it out herself before involving Leon. She headed back upstairs to change into fresh gear. Fortunately, she had brought two sets of combat attire with her. She slipped into the clean one, leaving the sewer-stained outfit behind. Next, she retrieved the weapons box she had brought along on the mission.
Pressing the activation rune, the box opened with a faint hiss. Inside, an array of daggers of various sizes were meticulously arranged. Each blade was forged from adamant metal, which made them highly conductive to mana. Emily carefully selected as many as her weapons belt could hold, stashing a few extras in the hidden compartments of her combat boots. Finally, she took out a standard Seriphium blade—a short sword with double edges, an onyx guard, and a matching hilt. Its silver blade gleamed faintly, etched with runes that served as conduits for magical energy. The craftsmanship was flawless, and the weapon radiated power. Once Emily felt sufficiently armed, she activated her Exodus. In an instant, the spell transported her directly to the location.
****
Atop the windswept meadow of Promontory Point stood a lone masonry field house, its jagged silhouette framed starkly against a sky strewn with dying stars. The night was unnervingly still, broken only by the distant lapping of the lake—an eerie rhythm that echoed faintly across the landscape. Emily could smell the brine and mineral-rich water from where she stood, cloaked within the shimmering folds of the Grey.
The Grey. A spectral veil unique to Terra. It separated the mundane from the mystic, an interstitial field that rendered her nearly invisible to the untrained eye. Even now, after years of exposure to different planetary atmospheres, Emily hadn't grown used to it. The Grey felt too alive—an ancient, coiled thing watching in silence. Terra was the only planet in the Neutral Free Zone that produced this peculiar field, and it was one of the many reasons she resented being here.
Nestled deep within the Grey's folds was the outpost—half-buried in history, its records erased from official logs. And yet it stood, stubborn against time. The moment Emily stepped through its threshold, an oppressive unease slithered into her chest. It wasn't merely the overwhelming scent of death and the acrid tang of decay; it was the absence of any defensive wards. Most Starlight installations—especially secret ones—were surrounded by protective barriers, etheric wards, or temporal cloaks. This facility had none. It was exposed. Vulnerable.
Abandoned.
Emily advanced toward the heavy front doors, careful to avoid stepping in the congealed streaks of gore that smeared the ground like grotesque brushstrokes. The lights inside flickered dimly, casting skeletal shadows along the blood-slicked floor. Her eyes adjusted rapidly, her breath steady, body alert. She slid two adamant daggers from her belt—blades forged to cut through both flesh and essence—and expanded her senses outward, sweeping the building in concentric waves of intent.
No signs of life.
Only the stench of death.
The air was thick—too thick. Saturated with pain. The structure itself seemed to remember. Cries of anguish, panic, and betrayal clung to the walls like invisible stains. Emily moved quietly down the corridor, lit by the faint pulsing glow of backup power further inside. Whatever had hit this place, it had hit hard—and fast.
As she passed the twisted bodies, she caught sight of something even more disturbing: shadows, seared into the walls. Not ordinary shadows—but soul imprints. Residues of the dead clinging to the physical realm in their final moments. Each one whispered a different death rattle. She paused, involuntarily shivering as a wave of echoing despair coursed through her. Her hand rose to her chest and brushed against the charm around her neck—a carved obsidian pendant etched with protective runes. For a fleeting moment, she considered drawing it out and praying.
But she didn't. Prayer was a relic of a life she no longer believed in.
She hardened her gaze and continued forward.
This was a science facility—she could tell now by the sterile hallways, the pattern of labs, the kinds of equipment left abandoned in the bloodied wreckage. Most of the bodies wore white lab coats, though a few bore the markings of internal security. On a fractured wall near the entrance lobby, she spotted it: the etched sigil of the House of Aquarius. A spiraling water serpent enclosed in circuitry.
Of course.
The House of Aquarius controlled the Federation's technological backbone. Their genius had created half the biotech advancements the other Houses relied on. If this was their facility, it meant it belonged to the Starlight Order. That confirmed her suspicion—but deepened the mystery. Why the hell would the Order establish a facility here, on Terra? According to Ginny, and the Federation's own Constitution—specifically clause 10.2—Starlight Order bases in the Neutral Free Zone were forbidden from being planet-side. They were supposed to operate off-world, in orbiting labs or phased stations. This outpost was not only illegal. It was buried.
Buried for a reason.
She continued deeper into the ruined halls until she reached a chamber lined with containment pods. Most of them were shattered, their reinforced glass panels blown open from within. Cracks spiderwebbed across the flooring, and scorch marks stained the walls, evidence of a violent struggle—or an escape. Dozens of corpses littered the area, but one in particular drew her attention. The man wore a tactical exo-suit—definitely not Starlight standard issue. Federation, perhaps, but a division she didn't recognize.
Her mind raced. Someone else had been here. Maybe still was.
Emily scanned the far wall and spotted it: a Zodiak monitor, half-buried beneath debris but still intact. A faint green glow pulsed beneath the cracked screen. Jackpot.
She retrieved her tablet from the satchel at her waist and approached the monitor with calculated speed. Her fingers danced across the screen as she interfaced her device with the Zodiak's outdated but still responsive systems. She initiated a data link, running an override protocol designed specifically for Starlight encryption.
If she could access the logs—security feeds, research notes, command logs—maybe she'd understand what this facility was really for… and what had turned it into a slaughterhouse.
"Connect me to the main network, Ziron," Emily commanded, her voice sharp with urgency.
In response, her tablet flickered to life. An explosion of shifting sigils and cryptic symbols erupted from the screen—arcane data spiraling like a living thing, flickering in and out of visibility as if pulled from both the digital and metaphysical planes. The web of information was impossibly fast, moving in complex loops and spirals, evolving faster than her eyes could track. It wasn't just code—it was a living system, constantly rewriting itself.
"Password authentication required," came Ziron's voice—monotone, synthetic, and utterly devoid of empathy.
Emily winced, biting down a curse. This wasn't good. Not just because she didn't have the password, but because she knew what Starlight systems did to unauthorized users. One failed attempt and she could trigger a failsafe—a system wipe at best, an arcane self-destruct at worst.
She didn't have time to play guesswork with something this volatile.
"Contact Ginny. Now," she ordered.
The connection was instant. A soft chime sounded, and within seconds, a translucent hologram shimmered into view above the tablet's surface. Ginny's image flickered in real-time—perched in her cluttered garage-lab, surrounded by glowing tools, arcano-tech schematics, and the perpetual hum of magi-mechanical equipment. A pair of oversized goggles rested atop her messy pink hair like a crown, and in one hand she held a humming hacksaw still stained with glowing residue.
The expression on her face could curdle water.
"You again?" Ginny groaned, lips twisted in exaggerated annoyance. "What is this, our third holo-call in two days? You miss me or something?"
Emily tensed. The jab landed harder than she expected.
"You know I wouldn't bother you unless it was serious. I'm in a compromised Starlight facility on Terra—illegal, unbarriered, wiped clean. I need you to crack their mainframe. I sent you a link to the Zodiak relay."
Ginny arched an eyebrow and leaned in, her fingers already pulling the data. "Right, because you just happen to stumble across black-ops facilities in your spare time. You sure this isn't another 'save Leon' mission?"
Emily didn't answer. Her jaw tightened. Ginny rolled her eyes but said nothing more. She placed the hacksaw down and grabbed her console tablet, its interface flickering with a soft amber glow as she typed. Then her tone changed.
"Whoa."
That single syllable hit different—low, alert, stripped of sarcasm.
"What is it?" Emily asked, her voice tightening.
"I'm in the system," Ginny said slowly, her brow furrowed, eyes scanning streams of data as they flashed across her screen. "But this isn't standard Starlight encryption. Hell, it's not any kind of encryption I've ever seen. It's a hybrid system—part digital, part arcane. Someone layered this with recursive runic locks backed by quantum binding chains. It's stitched with counterseals that bite back if you poke them wrong. Whatever they were hiding here, it's locked under fortress-grade security. No joke, this stuff is lethal."
Emily's heart sank. "Can you crack it?"
Ginny didn't answer right away. She pushed her goggles down and began to type faster.
"Give me time," she muttered. "This isn't something I can brute force. I'll need to design a custom unraveling script—slow, precise, no missteps. A day minimum. Two if the failsafe's are as deep as they look. Worst case... maybe a week. But if I screw up even once, the entire system collapses—and probably takes half the building with it."
"Perfect," Emily muttered bitterly. "So no pressure."
"Exactly." Ginny offered a dry grin, her fingers already a blur. "But don't worry, I'm already downloading the data to my remote rig. Full access granted, just the way I like it."
Emily nodded. "Good. I'll stand by and secure the perimeter. Do whatever you need. Just… don't let it blow up in your face."
Ginny gave a lopsided smirk, her confidence slipping back into place. "Relax, blade-girl. You do the stabbing, I do the hacking. And this? This is going to be fun."
The hologram flickered once, then stabilized, the stream of data pulsing between their tablets like an arterial connection—bridging two minds in a web of secrets neither of them fully understood.
Without waiting for a response, Ginny's image flickered once—then dissolved into motes of light, leaving behind only silence and a lingering shimmer in the air. Emily exhaled slowly, staring at the now-vacant space where the hologram had hovered. The buzz of connection was gone, replaced by the heavy hum of uncertainty. She slid the tablet back into the inner pocket of her coat and turned, her gaze sweeping the dim chamber once more.
Something glinted.
Near one of the shattered containment pods, nestled in a puddle of black fluid, lay a smooth, spherical object. Emily stepped closer, crouched, and reached for it—then flinched as a jolt of searing pain tore through her palm the moment her skin made contact. She hissed and dropped it instinctively, the orb bouncing once and rolling lazily to a stop. A faint glow pulsed from within its surface—an eerie violet light with fractal patterns that shifted like trapped starlight.
And just like that, the energy vanished.
Curiosity prickled at the back of her mind. Gritting her teeth, she reached out again—this time, her fingers met a chilling, almost frostbitten surface. The temperature shift was staggering. The orb no longer burned—it was frozen, or something close to it. She narrowed her eyes. Not a weapon. Not tech. It felt... mineral. A concentrated essence? A dormant relic? Whatever it was, it didn't belong here. She tucked it carefully into a lined pouch on her weapons belt and rose, one hand lingering near her dagger.
The rest of the facility was no more illuminating. Every lab she entered bore the same signs—emptied pods, trashed equipment, desiccated bodies sprawled in twisted heaps. If the scientists had discovered something worth protecting, it was long gone now. Or worse—loose.
Her boots echoed faintly as she descended to the lower level, senses alert, drawn by a lingering pull in the air. The stairs were narrow, unlit, the deeper levels shrouded in murk.
That was when she felt it.
Movement.
Her body responded before her mind had time to catch up—dagger drawn in a flash of silver as she spun around. A figure lunged from the shadows, jaws unhinged, eyes void-black.
The vertical slash came swift and clean.
The creature's neck split open in a jet of thick, corrupted blood, and its head tumbled to the ground with a wet thud. Its body twitched once, then collapsed. But the kill was not the end.
It was the beginning.
A low hiss rippled through the darkness behind her—followed by dozens more.
Figures spilled from both ends of the stairwell, pale and mangled, twisted by some dark necromantic force. Their lab coats were tattered, skin gray and blotched with veinous curse-marks. These were no longer people—they were revenants, puppets animated by dark energy clinging to rotten flesh.
Emily's eyes narrowed. Her grip tightened around her blades.
Two more daggers sang into her hands as she moved.
Mana surged through her veins, illuminating the internal lattice of her circuits. Her reflexes sharpened, perception heightening as the world slowed. The first revenant lunged—Emily sidestepped, spun, and drove her dagger through its temple. The second she decapitated mid-stride with a clean upward slash. Blood sprayed the walls, thick and black as ink.
She became motion incarnate—darting, slicing, striking.
Fluid and lethal, her movements carved paths of destruction through the undead swarm. Limbs flew. Heads rolled. One revenant shrieked and hurled itself from the stair railing, but Emily cut it down mid-air in a single circular slash that split it from collarbone to hip.
Another grabbed at her leg—too slow.
She pivoted, severed the arm cleanly, then crushed the skull beneath her boot with a crack that echoed like a drumbeat of death.
The staircase became a massacre. A ballet of precision and fury. Each motion was fueled not by rage, but purpose. Economy of movement. Total control. Emily was surgical—cold, methodical, untouchable.
In less than a minute, it was over.
The final revenant gurgled as its head dropped, the necromantic light in its eyes flickering out.
The stairwell was now littered with the headless dead, black blood pooling at her feet like tar. Emily's daggers—all but ruined—dripped with cursed filth, their edges dulled and etched by the unholy ichor. The magic within them was breaking down, corroded by the same dark force animating the corpses.
She wiped her brow with the back of her glove, breath steady but watchful.
Then she felt it.
Below.
A pulse.
Her Internal senses snapped toward the base of the stairwell where a strange violet glow now emanated—less a light, more a haze, like mist woven from a star's dying breath. She reached with her senses—nothing. No mana signature. No heat. No movement. Just silence and cold.
Too silent.
She hesitated. Whatever lay beyond that glow wasn't just hidden—it was outside the natural flow.
Emily considered retreating. This was enough to justify calling Leon. Whatever secrets this place held, they were bound in death and secrecy. She turned slightly, preparing to exit through the left corridor—
And then the air shifted.
The Odyllic layer rippled.
A vibration, low and slow, hummed through her bones like a tuning fork struck by a god. The world around her condensed, the World Energy coalescing in a slow spiral of pressure and soundless gravity.
In the blink of an eye, the staircase disappeared from beneath her.
Light bent inward. Space folded.
And Emily was gone.
The space she now occupied defied ordinary architecture. Vast, circular, and impossibly silent, the room pulsed with a quiet energy that whispered at the edge of awareness. Six massive pillars encircled the chamber, rising like the ribs of a forgotten titan to support a ceiling lost in shadow. The walls were composed of an unfamiliar violet-hued stone that glowed faintly, casting refracted light in swirling patterns across the floor. It was not stone in the traditional sense—more like crystallized void, humming with residual magic. The air was thick with World Energy, but it moved differently here. Not flowing, but watching.
Emily exhaled slowly, her senses spread wide. The Odyllic currents in the room felt disconnected from the rest of the facility—isolated, as if the space had been surgically removed from Terra's planar structure. No exits. No doors. No traces of life.
A pocket space.
"Dimensional Magic," she murmured, narrowing her eyes as she stepped forward. "This entire chamber... it's a pocket space."
And something had dragged her into it.
At the center of the room, where the strange light was brightest, a massive magic circle spread across the floor—an intricate pentacle inscribed with countless runic characters. The lines were precise, elegant, carved not by tools but by intention. Hovering just above its core was a levitating monolith of silver, suspended within a violet barrier. It radiated power—ancient, restrained, and deeply alien.
Her eyes locked onto it. Recognition stirred in her chest.
The symbols etched onto the monolith's face… she had seen them before—half-faded glyphs drawn into the sewer walls beneath Halcyon City. The place where the Erlking had stood guard. But now, under this light, she could see them more clearly. Though they mirrored Federation script in form, their essence was off. Federation runes were efficient and logical. These were older. Wilder. Steeped in purpose.
They weren't written in the known Annunaki dialect—but something parallel to it. Something older. Something true.
They told a story. One she couldn't yet read, but which called to something buried deep in her memory. Her fingers hovered above the monolith's edge, just inches away.
Then—
A sharp instinct jolted her spine.
Someone was behind her.
Before her thoughts could catch up, a bolt of blue light screamed toward her. Her dagger was torn from her hand by the force of the blast, clattering to the floor with a metallic cry. Without hesitation, Emily twisted her body and darted behind the nearest column, pressing her back to the cool stone as another shot seared past.
She drew her Seriphium shortsword, the blessed alloy thrumming softly in her grip. Her mind was sharp, already recalculating. Whoever this was—they were trained. Tactical. They weren't just throwing attacks; they were herding her.
Another flash of energy curved around the pillar—she dove low, rolled, and came up ready, slicing the blast in half with a swift arc of her sword. The residual force skidded across the floor in blue sparks, dissipating against the runes.
Emily looked up.
A figure materialized through the veil of shadow.
Humanoid. Armored in darkness.
Each movement was cloaked in flickering tendrils of concealment magic, not unlike a Shadow Cloak—but denser, more refined. This wasn't some street-level assassin's trick. This was artistry. The kind woven into soul-thread enchantments.
The figure raised an arm. Arrows of compressed Mana formed instantly, launching with kinetic force. Emily deflected one, ducked under the second, and side-stepped the third, spinning low as she hurled three daggers in return.
The figure dodged with uncanny grace, their body flowing like liquid shadow.
"Not Infernal," Emily whispered. "But definitely not friendly."
Her instincts screamed. This wasn't a mindless construct or a revenant. This was a living opponent—and a damn good one.
Her enemy drew close now—revealing a pair of Mana-forged blades that shimmered in the room's glow like phantom fangs. They pulsed with condensed energy, raw and unstable, yet perfectly controlled. The figure's stance was precise. Balanced. Deadly.
A duelist.
They circled each other slowly, the monolith pulsing behind them like a silent witness.
Emily's breath was steady. Her perception extended through the air like a net. She wasn't just watching the figure—she was reading intention. Every micro-adjustment. Every shift of weight. Every twitch of Mana.
The figure struck.
A thrust—fast. Measured. Followed by a flurry of slashes.
Emily parried with exacting grace, each deflection a dance of angles and leverage. She slid out of range and feinted to the right, then cut upward in a rising strike—but her opponent twisted, caught the edge on their left blade, and pushed back.
Fast. Too fast.
Emily's eyes narrowed. Only Leon had ever forced her to go full instinct in a duel. This opponent was different—less brute force, more precision. Each motion aimed not to overwhelm, but to corner.
Still, she adapted. Her movements grew sharper, her footwork more erratic to mask intent. She ducked under a horizontal slash and slammed the hilt of her sword into the figure's gut, but they absorbed the blow, rolling back with inhuman speed. The dance continued—step, strike, retreat, advance. A tide of blows exchanged beneath a ceiling of runes.
But Emily could feel it.
Her shortsword was a disadvantage. Against twin blades of pure Mana, her reach and leverage were compromised. She couldn't match power—but she could shift the tempo.
With a sudden lunge, she drove her blade toward the center of her opponent's stance—then pivoted mid-motion, twisting low into a sweeping kick that disrupted their footing. The shadow-wielder stumbled back—but only for a second.
Emily retreated three paces, catching her breath.
But Emily's experience—her mastery of combat, honed through years of grueling encounters—kept her in the fight.
For a while, anyway.
Then the tempo shifted.
Without warning, the shadow-wielder vanished.
Gone.
Emily's senses went taut. Her breath stilled. Every nerve in her body strained for the faintest trace of movement. She scanned the room rapidly—up, down, left, right—her perception stretching to its limits. Where?
The answer came a second too late.
A sharp kick slammed into the side of her face—left cheek, direct impact—and she was airborne before she could react. The force sent her crashing into the ceiling, her back ricocheting off the surface like a ragdoll. The pain was blinding. For a moment, her vision blurred, her ears rang, and her mouth filled with the copper tang of blood. She twisted midair, forcing herself into a landing position as she fell—then crashed down, hard.
The floor met her like a sledgehammer. A heavy thud echoed through the room, but Emily didn't scream. She clenched her teeth and rode the pain out, burying it beneath the steel of her will.
She reached for another dagger, fingers steady despite the tremors in her limbs. Her jaw throbbed. Her back ached. But the healing enchantments threaded through her body were already at work—bones knitting, nerves stabilizing, the fracture mending beneath her skin.
Her attacker had disappeared into the shadows again, but Emily's stance held firm. She wasn't out yet.
She couldn't afford to be.
Even with her Mana reinforcing her limbs, she knew the truth—her opponent was faster. Stronger. Each exchange so far had been a test of survival, not dominance. The shadow-wielder was not just skilled. She was winning.
A shape emerged from the dark once more.
And this time, Emily saw her clearly.
The woman stepped into the pale purple glow of the monolith's light. She wore tactical combat gear—streamlined, silent, almost identical to Emily's own except for one crucial difference: Emily's suit bore the insignia of Starlight, a sigil woven in thread that shimmered like distant constellations. Her opponent's armor was plain. Anonymous.
Yet there was nothing forgettable about her.
Emily's sharp eyes scanned her—lean frame, wiry muscle, the kind of body built for explosive power and stamina. There was elegance in her every step, the kind born from hundreds of battles. She moved with deadly grace—like a predator who didn't need to threaten. Because she already knew she could kill you.
Even though Emily couldn't sense her Odic force, couldn't trace her Mana within the Odyllic field, the woman's presence was overwhelming. Her aura didn't scream.
It commanded.
Something about her was eerily familiar. The way she pivoted her weight. The exacting precision of her posture. Had they fought before? Trained in the same academy? The thought flickered—then vanished.
Because the shadow-wielder attacked.
Again.
Mana blades formed mid-air—dozens of them—slicing forward in a spiraling barrage. Razor-sharp, glimmering with cerulean light, each blade carried a terrifying density of force, compressed for maximum penetration.
Emily responded in an instant, slipping into casting stance, her lips moving with crisp, silent efficiency as she began to weave a spell. Her hands traced sigils in the air, each motion deliberate, controlled, refined through thousands of hours of arcane discipline.
But the World Energy here fought back. The moment her incantation reached the air, the room responded. A heavy pressure descended on her spellwork—a will not her own, embedded into the space itself. It pressed against her runes, tried to unravel her formula before it could take form.
She grimaced.
Not today.
Emily pushed harder, her focus razor-sharp. Her Mana spiraled outward, threading through the Odyllic resistance like a needle through tangled silk. Her casting circle flared to life beneath her feet, laced with blue and violet runes that pulsed in defiance.
The room might resist her. The dimension itself might want her gone. But Emily wasn't going anywhere. Her spell began to ignite—shimmering with raw force, ready to strike back. And this time? She'd be the one pushing her opponent back.
[Water Creation – Waterfall Descent.]
Emily pointed both index and middle fingers downward, her Mana coiling through her fingertips in bright spirals as a glowing magic circle bloomed at her feet. Runes flared across the floor, etched in liquid light, as the spell transmuted raw energy into elemental force. In an instant, a cascade of roaring water erupted from the circle, forming a towering barrier that crashed upward and intercepted the incoming Mana blades.
The impact triggered an explosive burst of steam, a concussive veil that filled the chamber. Emily didn't hesitate—she lunged through the smoke, seizing the opening.
[Water Creation – Sea Serpent Strike.]
With a sharp gesture, she compressed the vapor, bending it back into liquid form. The mist coalesced into a massive serpent of roaring water, its glistening form snaking forward with a deafening hiss. The elemental construct slammed into her opponent, hurling the cloaked figure through a line of stone pillars with thunderous force.
But it wasn't enough. With a blur of motion and a single, brutal slash, the shadow-wielder cleaved through the serpent's coiling body. Spinning through the air, she retaliated with another barrage of blue Mana slashes. Emily reacted on instinct.
[Movement Skill – Rapid Step.]
She vanished in a flicker, reappearing a few feet away with her shortsword drawn. Her blade became a blur of steel as she deflected the glowing strikes, sparks flying in the purple-lit air. Her opponent's dual blades of concentrated energy met her with relentless speed and fluid precision.
Emily's expression remained unreadable, her focus absolute—even as a flicker of admiration crossed her thoughts. She's good. Better than good.
Their battle sprawled across the ruined chamber, both combatants leaping from broken pillars and racing across walls, as though gravity itself had forgotten its duty. Mana trails burned in their wake as blade met blade in a clash of sound and fury.
Emily's senses kept her one step ahead—barely. She predicted her opponent's arcs by instinct, countering every advance with honed reflexes. Still, thin gashes opened across her cheeks, arms, and thighs. Her Mana Skin flared in warning, flickering beneath the strain. The sheer force behind her opponent's strikes was too much.
And then—
The woman spoke.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice calm. Measured. Unnervingly familiar. "Is this all you're capable of, Legens?"
Emily's eyes narrowed, but she couldn't reply—her opponent was already moving.
One powerful swipe shattered the dagger in Emily's left hand. The shockwave sent her flying, only her Seriphium shortsword absorbing enough of the impact to keep her alive. She smashed through several pillars, each hit bludgeoning the air from her lungs before she crashed to the floor in a heap.
She groaned, spitting blood onto the stone as her vision spun. But there was no time to recover—arrows of blue Mana rained down, forcing her back to her feet. She twisted through the hailstorm, parrying what she could and dodging the rest. Panting, she gathered her strength, channeling Mana into her blade. She struck.
[Fang Slash.]
A compressed arc of white light surged forward, a crescent wave meant to cut through anything in its path. The enemy raised one glowing blade and tore through it with a single, effortless swing.
"Damn it," Emily growled, darting to the side as the next volley shattered the floor where she'd stood. Her opponent pressed forward, twin blades whistling through the air. Emily darted between columns, her mind racing.
No way out. No exit. And my Mana's nearly dry…
The enemy's strikes kept coming—faster, harder, always one step ahead.
None of my techniques are working. She's seen everything.
That's when it hit her. A move she rarely used. A power she never wanted to rely on.
Her Ability Factor.
Emily didn't hesitate.
Desperation had burned through doubt. Her Mana reserves were low, flickering like the final embers of a dying flame—but this wasn't the time to hold back. Gritting her teeth, she drew from deep within, tapping into the core of her essence.
[Primal Harmonics – Sanguine Harmonization.]
She exhaled—slow and deliberate. A thin mist escaped her lips, dark red and laced with vibrating threads of resonance. The air around her shimmered as the mist thickened, curling like tendrils of living smoke. It drifted across the distance between them, weightless but inevitable, slipping into the aura of the shadowed figure.
As it reached her opponent, the mist ignited with subtle pulses—each particle searching, sensing, bonding to the signature of blood. The temperature dropped. Subtle runes carved into Emily's palms—mirrored by larger glyphs along her forearms—flared to life. The glowing sigils pulsed in rhythm with her breath, acting as arcane conduits. Spectral valves. She could feel them tuning, adjusting—dialing in.
And then she found it. The rhythm. Her opponent's heartbeat. A living tempo beneath the noise of battle. Emily's eyes narrowed, her perception locking in on the pulse. With a twist of intent, she adjusted the harmonic frequency of her Mana. Not to disrupt—but to resonate. Her power synced with the ebb and flow of her foe's bloodstream.
The result was immediate. The shadow-wielder jerked, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Her legs buckled, knees hitting the stone with a solid thud as pain surged through her body. One hand clutched her chest, the other pressing to the ground for balance. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts. The illusion around her wavered—shadows fraying at the edges like torn silk. The violet barrier flickered violently, then fractured, unable to maintain cohesion under the disruption.
Emily stepped forward.
Her blade gleamed with residual Mana, but it was her will that carried weight now. Her eyes were iron. Her voice, silent. Her presence, unshakable. She pressed down. Not with her sword—but with her essence.
And the blood within her enemy trembled. She felt every contraction of muscle, every ripple in the arteries, every constriction in the veins. Her harmonics throbbed through the enemy's circulatory system, a symphony of dominance conducted by force and precision. Emily could burst a vessel. Stop the heart. Sever the rhythm entirely. The choice was hers. And for the first time in their battle, the enemy was no longer invincible.
She was hers.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "And how do you know my name?"
Her Mana flared, intensifying the pressure. The shadows peeled away from the woman's cloak, unraveling in spirals of black mist. A mask emerged—jet black, etched with blood-red sigils. From its brow, two antler-like horns jutted upward, their ridges cracked and ancient.
Emily's voice turned colder. "What is this place? How do I leave?"
Her control tightened. She could feel the vessels in her enemy's head straining. One push—one—and she could rupture the brain. Or the heart. But then—
"I'm quite disappointed," the enemy said, standing slowly, her voice perfectly steady. " With such an ability at your disposal, this is all you could achieve..."
Emily's eyes widened.
The woman raised her fist—and slammed it into the ground.
The chamber ignited.
A wave of electrical force exploded outward in a fractal web of light. The current tore through the air and across the stone in all directions, flooding the space with lightning. The blast struck Emily before she could dodge—wracking her body with convulsions as raw energy tore through her nerves.
She screamed. The surge flung her across the chamber, her body limp, breath gone. She hit the ground hard. Bones cracked. Then, pain, blinding pain. She looked down and saw it—her opponent's blade, glowing with blue fire, had pierced clean through her abdomen. Blood pooled around her. Her limbs were numb. The shadow-wielder loomed above her, unmoved.
"I expected more from you, Emily Legens."
A dark spiral opened beneath her, its edges crackling with chaotic energy. A spatial rift.
Before she could move, before she could scream, the void pulled her in—consuming her completely. The last thing she saw was that mask. The twin antler horns. And then—
Darkness.
When Emily awoke, it was beneath fluorescent lights, her body sprawled on the freezing lab floor, blood soaking through her uniform. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her vision blurred. And before she could rise, her world faded again into the void.