CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN: UNBOUND & UNBROKEN

Darkness. An endless void stretched before him, silent yet suffocating. Then, the world twisted. Ken stood in the middle of a battlefield—a warped fusion of his past and present. A city skyline blurred into crumbling ruins, its streets littered with faceless bodies. Some wore the insignia of past targets, their hollow eyes staring, accusing. Others were nothing more than shifting shadows, tendrils of darkness coiling like living things.

A presence emerged from the chaos. No, two presences.

To his right stood the man he had always been—a hitman, clad in black, his golden gun glinting in the dim light. Cold, calculating eyes stared back at him, empty of emotion.

To his left, another figure. This one pulsed with unnatural energy, his body crackling with shadows that moved on their own. His own face, twisted—erratic and wild. The Tenebri side, the part of him he hadn't asked for but now couldn't escape.

"You were precise. Unshakable," the hitman version of himself said, voice as cold as steel. "No hesitation. No attachment. That was your strength."

"No, he's stronger now!" the shadow-infused version countered, its form flickering, unstable. "You were just a man with a gun. But now? You're something more. Shadows are power! Let them consume you!"

Ken stood between them, his fists clenched.

"Neither of you are me."

The battlefield trembled. Then came the whispers.

Shane's voice, smug and taunting: "You're weak, Ken. Always have been. Look at you, struggling to hold onto something that isn't yours."

The ghosts of the people he had killed: "Was it easy? Pulling the trigger? Did you ever care?"

And then, the worst of them all—Selena's voice, distorted and hollow:

"I saved you… but maybe I shouldn't have."

It was like a blade twisting in his gut.

Selena's words weren't just an accusation. They were a reflection of something he had feared from the moment he woke up after the battle—had she made a mistake? Had her kindness been wasted on him? He wasn't noble like her. He wasn't righteous.

He was a hitman. A killer.

Ken staggered. His mind screamed that this wasn't real, but the weight of their words dug deep, exposing doubts he didn't want to acknowledge.

"Shut up." His voice came out strained.

The shadows around him twisted, growing thicker. Hands reached from the void, clawing at him, dragging him down.

"You can't run from this, Ken."

And wasn't that the truth? Running was all he had ever done. From the past, from attachments, from anything that threatened to make him feel.

The hitman was right. Emotions were weaknesses. Attachments made people vulnerable.

The Tenebri side was right. Shadows were power, undeniable and intoxicating.

But both of them were wrong, too.

Because he wasn't just one or the other.

Ken's breath came hard and fast. Doubt still gnawed at him, wrapping around his ribs like chains. What if he was just fooling himself? What if, by refusing to choose, he was destined to be nothing at all?

Would Selena regret saving him?

Would I see him as dead weight?

Would he always be caught between two halves that refused to make a whole?

A cold tremor ran through him.

But then, beneath all the noise, a single thought cut through:

You're not weak for struggling.

The realization was quiet. Simple. But it was enough.

Ken exhaled slowly. The hands grasping at him faltered. The voices quieted.

And then, he took a step forward.

Not toward the hitman.

Not toward the Tenebri.

But through them.

Both figures turned, confused. Ken didn't stop. He kept walking. The shadows pulsed, but this time, they didn't resist. They didn't try to control him.

They became part of him.

Ken lifted his hand, and the darkness curled around his fingers, no longer wild, no longer unstable. He could feel it now—like an extension of himself. Like the gun at his side.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "About time."

The first thing he felt was the weight of his body sinking into solid ground. His limbs ached, heavy as stone, but they were his again. The air was thick with the scent of earth and damp leaves, cool against his overheated skin. His fingers twitched, brushing against the dirt—real, tangible.

A deep breath filled his lungs, sharp and grounding. His heartbeat, once erratic and panicked, settled into something steadier. He was here. Alive. Whole.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The world was no longer fractured between past and present. No shadows clawed at his vision. Just trees swaying overhead, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. The distant hum of voices reached him—familiar voices.

Ken turned his head slightly, vision sharpening. I and Nicole stood nearby, watching.

Nicole's face was tight with concern, her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves. I, on the other hand, was unreadable. My arms were crossed, but my eyes—sharp, piercing—were locked onto Ken's.

Ken didn't speak right away. He needed a moment, still processing what had happened. The weight of his choices lingered, but it didn't suffocate him anymore.

Then, finally, he pushed himself upright. His muscles protested, but he ignored the pain. He met my gaze—not as someone lost between two halves of himself, but as someone who had made peace with both.

When he spoke, his voice was steady, sharper than before.

"I'm back."

And this time, he meant it.

Ken met my gaze, and for the first time since I'd met him, I saw something different. No hesitation. No flicker of doubt. He wasn't just standing—he was grounded, like he'd finally stopped running from something I couldn't see.

It was subtle, but I knew it when I saw it. The moment someone changed.

Still, I wasn't about to make a big deal out of it.

"You look like hell." I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. "Well, more than usual."

Ken let out a dry laugh, rolling his shoulders. "Feel like it too."

I didn't miss the way his fingers twitched slightly, like he was still adjusting to himself. The shift wasn't just mental—whatever had happened in that void, it had changed something deeper. His shadow curled around him, no longer jagged and wild. It moved with him now, controlled, natural.

That was new.

Nicole rushed past me before I could say anything else, dropping to her knees beside Ken. "You scared me, idiot!" she scolded, though her voice wavered. "You wouldn't wake up!"

Ken blinked at her, probably realizing for the first time how shaken she was. He exhaled and rested a hand on her head, ruffling her hair like she was some kid. "Sorry, princess. Didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Nicole puffed her cheeks but didn't shove him off. That was as much forgiveness as anyone was going to get.

I studied Ken, noting the way he carried himself now. He wasn't forcing a smirk to hide something. He wasn't pretending to be unbothered.

I'd seen plenty of people break before. Plenty of people who had thought they were strong until something snapped inside them. They either crawled back, weaker than before, or they rose up, shaped into something sharper.

Ken had chosen the latter.

Good.

That meant I wouldn't have to carry him anymore.

"So," I said, tilting my head. "You finally done sulking, or should I give you a few more minutes to sit there and bask in your newfound enlightenment?"

Ken shot me a look, but instead of his usual deadpan stare, there was a flicker of amusement. "That depends. You gonna give me a speech about teamwork next?"

I smirked. "Please. I don't waste my breath on the lost causes."

Ken pushed himself fully to his feet, shaking off the last remnants of whatever hell he'd been in. He tested his limbs, rolling his neck, flexing his fingers. His movements were smoother than before, more controlled.

I'd been prepared to drag him through this tournament if I had to. But now?

I wouldn't have to.

For the first time since this ridiculous team-up started, Ken looked like someone I wouldn't have to pick up off the ground.

"Good," I muttered under my breath.

Ken raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

I turned away. "Nothing. Just don't slow me down."

Ken chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Try to keep up, hotshot."

Nicole beamed, relieved to see us back to our usual banter. But even she could tell—something between us had shifted.

Ken wasn't just another player in this game anymore. He was finally in control of himself. And that? That made things a whole lot more interesting.

Meanwhile, in the Shadow Realm, beneath the towering pillars of the Sacred Chamber, Selena sat in the dim glow of flickering torches. The cold air pressed in, heavy with expectation. Before her, her new shadow pulsed—untamed, waiting.

She rolled her shoulders, exhaling slowly. No more hesitation. No more fighting against it. This time, she would do it right.

Selena sat cross-legged in the dim glow of flickering torches, the Sacred Chamber silent except for the faint crackle of flames. The cold air pressed in around her, thick with expectation, but she wasn't afraid. Not anymore. She closed her eyes, steadying her breath, and focused on the shadow coiled in front of her.

The shadow pulsed with restless energy, its darkness writhing like a living thing. It had no shape, no form—just an amorphous, malevolent presence waiting, watching. Then, it spoke.

"You are nothing," the shadow hissed, its voice layered and whispering, shifting from one tone to another. It wasn't just one voice—it was many, each one a cold, calculated whisper designed to break her. "You think you can control me?"

The shadow twisted around her, circling like a predator. Selena's heart quickened, but she kept her breathing steady. She knew the shadow's game—it wanted to consume her, to break her spirit and claim her soul.

"You're just a spoiled brat, riding on your father's name," the shadow sneered. "Without The Kovo, without his legacy, what are you?" The words struck deep, but Selena refused to flinch.

The shadow's tendrils slithered forward, brushing against her skin, pressing down as if trying to smother her. "You will never be as strong as Liam." The words cut deep, but Selena pushed back against the pain. She knew she wasn't like me—I was a warrior, forged in battle and blood. But she had her own strength, her own power.

Darkness surged around her, attempting to consume her whole. Selena's eyes snapped open. Her hand shot out, gripping the shadow as if it had physical form. It twisted violently in her grasp, but she didn't let go.

"You're wrong," she said, her voice steady, unwavering. She clenched her fist, pulling. The shadows fought, writhing, screeching—but Selena held firm. Strands of darkness wrapped around her arms, attempting to drag her down, but she refused to kneel.

One by one, she wove the writhing tendrils into chains, binding them, forcing them into submission. Her heartbeat steadied. The chains tightened. The shadows stopped struggling. They belonged to her now.

A sudden stillness filled the chamber. The cold air no longer pressed in—it had shifted. Bent to her will. Selena inhaled deeply, feeling something within her change. The power settled inside her, no longer wild, no longer unstable.

She opened her eyes. A dark, steady aura pulsed around her, humming with quiet strength. Her body felt lighter, her mind clearer. She had faced her fears, and she had won.

For a moment, Selena simply breathed, savoring the triumph. Then, she stood, her movements fluid, powerful. The shadows around her seemed to shrink back, acknowledging her dominance. She smiled, a slow, fierce smile.

"I am not nothing," she whispered, her voice carrying through the chamber. "I am Selena Remmick, daughter of Seth Remmick, The Kovo. And I will not be broken."

**********