CHAPTER FORTY ONE: THE STORM BEFORE THE STORM

Rael vanished again. My fist cut through empty air, and I scowled. His Specter Stride was starting to piss me off.

"Come on, Blondie," his voice echoed from nowhere, mocking. "You're the mighty Liam Remmick, aren't you? Or did you get soft after playing babysitter?"

I didn't bother answering. My ears sharpened, my body tensed. He liked talking. That was his weakness. The moment he spoke, his presence flickered back into reality.

There.

I pivoted, launching a kick toward his ribs, but he flickered out again, reappearing behind me. His knuckles connected with my jaw—sharp, precise, annoying. I stumbled back, rolling my shoulder to shake off the sting.

"Focus, Remmick," he taunted, vanishing once more.

I exhaled, centering myself. My mind was on Ken—who still hadn't gotten up yet. That was irritating. He should've dodged. Should've known better. Nicole, at least, was holding her own, her enhanced strength giving her the edge.

But Ken.

Rael reappeared again, fist cocked back. This time, I was ready.

I caught his wrist mid-strike.

His eyes widened.

"Got you."

I yanked him forward and drove my knee into his gut, sending him sprawling across the ground. He coughed, rolling to his feet with a grimace.

"Finally taking me seriously, huh?" he muttered, shaking off the blow.

I cracked my knuckles, my irritation settling into something sharper. If Ken didn't get back up soon, I was really going to be pissed.

"Yeah," I said. "Try phasing through this."

Dark energy coiled around my fingertips, raw and untamed. The moment I released the shadow ball, the air around us trembled. A deep, unnatural hum filled my ears as the sphere expanded, its surface writhing like a living void.

It shot toward Rael like a miniature black hole, devouring the light in its path. The pressure alone made the ground tremble, the weight of it distorting the very space between us.

And yet—

Rael smirked.

The instant the shadow ball would've hit, his body flickered, dissolving into nothing. The attack tore through his afterimage, blasting into the wall behind him. A sharp boom rang out as stone and dust exploded outward.

I barely had time to curse before a fist buried itself into my ribs.

I grunted, my vision shaking from the impact. He was faster. No, he was sharper.

"I gotta say," Rael's voice slithered past my ear as he reappeared just out of reach, "your shadows feel nasty. Like standing too close to a thunderstorm. Gives me chills." He cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming. "Too bad they're useless against me."

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders. The bastard was getting bolder.

Then he vanished.

My instincts screamed at me, but my body was already a step behind. He wasn't just phasing anymore—he was accelerating, slipping through reality in erratic bursts. Before I could adjust, my head snapped sideways from a lightning-fast jab. Then another. Then a third.

Tch—

I barely raised my arm in time to block the next hit, but the force still sent me skidding backward. My fingers twitched, but before I could summon another shadow attack, his knee crashed into my stomach, knocking the air out of me.

I slammed my foot down, stabilizing myself just before I could go flying. My muscles ached, my chest burned, but the worst part?

Rael was grinning.

"Not so fun when you can't keep up, huh?" he taunted.

My jaw tightened. He wasn't wrong. But he also didn't realize—I was just getting started.

Rael flickered in and out of existence, his movements erratic, unpredictable. Every punch, every kick, slammed into me like a sledgehammer, but I didn't dodge. I didn't even try.

I let him hit me.

Pain bloomed across my ribs, my jaw, my gut. Blood dripped from my lip, but I didn't waver. Because this time, I wasn't tracking his body.

I was tracking his shadow.

He thought he was untouchable, slipping through the cracks of reality. But shadows never lied. Shadows never vanished. And shadows bowed to me.

My vision sharpened, honing in on the flickering outline beneath him. It moved when he moved. Stretched when he stretched. It was the only constant in his chaotic dance.

So I waited.

Rael reappeared above me, his leg swinging down in a brutal axe kick. He wasn't holding back. This was the kind of hit meant to end a fight.

Perfect.

I called forth the Death Scythe. The moment its cold weight settled in my grip, I twisted my body, not to strike him—but to strike his shadow.

The instant the blade plunged into the ground, Rael's body locked in place. His eyes widened in shock, realization dawning too late.

"Wha—?"

He tried to move. His body twitched, strained—but he was stuck. Trapped.

Blood dripped from my chin as I lifted my head, my grip tightening on the scythe's hilt. A slow, crazed grin stretched across my face.

"Not so fast now, are you?"

Rael thrashed against the unseen force holding him in place. His muscles strained, veins bulging against his skin as he fought to break free. But it was useless. His shadow was mine now.

His wild eyes flicked to me, disbelief twisting his face. "What the hell did you do?!"

I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and tilted my head, watching him struggle. "You really thought you could keep running?" I twisted the Death Scythe slightly, and Rael flinched as if an invisible force had yanked him down. "I've fought too many slippery bastards to fall for the same tricks."

Rael's jaw clenched. Then, with a smirk—cocky, defiant—he flickered again, trying to phase out.

But nothing happened.

His breath hitched. He tried again. And again. Panic seeped into his features.

"Yeah, that's not gonna work," I muttered. "Your little disappearing act? Useless when your shadow's nailed down."

His fists clenched. "Then I'll just—"

I didn't give him the chance to finish.

With a sharp yank, I pulled the scythe free, and the moment his body lurched forward, I slammed my foot into his chest. The force sent him crashing across the battlefield, kicking up dust and debris as he tumbled. He skidded to a stop, coughing, his body shaking from the impact.

I stepped forward, dragging the scythe behind me, its edge carving a thin line into the dirt. "You're fast, I'll give you that," I admitted, rolling my shoulders. "But speed's useless when you don't have anywhere to run."

Rael tried to push himself up, but his body swayed. His arms trembled. His breaths came in ragged gasps. He knew it.

This fight was over.

A bitter grin crossed his face as he let his head fall back against the ground. "Damn…" he exhaled, staring up at the sky. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

I twirled the scythe once before resting it on my shoulder. "Yeah," I said, smirking. "I get that a lot."

And just like that, Rael Myrick was done. Now, it was time to check on the others.

Before I could fully register my victory, a sudden shift in the air sent alarms through my body. A shadow loomed over me—Darian's massive fist was already descending, aimed straight for my face.

There was no time to dodge. No time to think.

Instinct took over.

My body dissolved into the darkness beneath me, my form vanishing like ink spilled into the void. The raw force of Darian's punch cracked the ground where I had stood, sending dust and debris flying.

A few feet away, under the cool shade of a nearby tree, the shadows pulsed unnaturally before I emerged, my form reconstructing seamlessly from the abyss. Unlike Rael, who phased through reality itself, I had devised something entirely different—passing through shadows, shifting between them like an extension of my own will.

Darian straightened, his knuckles flexing as he turned, searching.

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders before fixing my gaze on the scene before me. My eyes barely acknowledged Darian.

This fight is done. I have no interest in cleaning up after that idiot.

My focus drifted elsewhere. Ken was already getting back on his feet, blood smearing the side of his face. His movements were sluggish, pained, but the way his fingers twirled his golden handgun meant he wasn't done yet.

I turned away from Darian completely. I had other things to spectate.

Darian's jaw clenched at the blatant insult. His pride burned, his muscles tensed—but before he could react—

BANG!

A bullet slammed into his face. It didn't pierce his stone-like skin, but the sheer force made him stagger a step back.

Slowly, he turned, locking eyes with Ken.

The hitman stood with a hand to his ribs, his breathing labored, blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth. Despite the pain, he spun his golden handgun in his fingers, clicking it into place.

A cocky grin stretched across his face, despite the clear agony in his movements.

"Forgot about me, big guy?" Ken rasped, straightening his stance. "That's a bad habit to have in a fight."

Darian cracked his knuckles, his earlier irritation sharpening into something more dangerous. The ground beneath him groaned as he shifted his weight, his muscles tensing like coiled steel.

The atmosphere shifted.

Ken stood still, his golden handgun resting loosely in his grip, his expression unreadable. Yet something about him was different—off. Darian felt it, a strange, unspoken tension in the air. His instincts screamed at him to take notice.

But Darian wasn't one to dwell on things he didn't understand.

With a grunt, he launched himself at Ken, fists tearing through the air. Ken moved. Smoothly, effortlessly, weaving through the attacks like a whisper of wind. Every punch missed by a fraction of an inch, every strike falling just short. The two of them danced—Ken flowing like water, Darian crashing like a relentless tide.

Darian's teeth clenched.

What the hell is this?

Ken was dodging—only dodging. Not a single bullet fired. Not a single counterattack.

Darian was strong, but he wasn't the brightest. His mind latched onto the simplest explanation.

He's stalling. He's got nothing left.

His lips curled into a sneer.

"Coward," Darian spat, driving another massive fist forward. Ken dipped just under it, slipping away like a ghost.

Darian growled.

Ken's silence, his refusal to attack, the way he was toying with him—it was getting under his skin.

Fine. If Ken wasn't going to fight back, he'd just have to pummel him until he couldn't run anymore.

And so Darian kept attacking. Kept swinging. Kept pushing forward.

But somewhere, in the back of his mind, an unsettling thought crept in.

Why does it feel like I'm the one being hunted?

Darian's fist tore through the air, aimed straight for Ken's face.

Then—he saw it.

Ken's eyes.

That cold, merciless gleam. A murder glare so chilling it sliced through Darian's reckless confidence like a blade to the throat.

Shit—

His instincts screamed.

Before his fist could make contact, his body moved on its own—legs pushing him backward, away, creating distance, as if something primal inside him knew he was in danger.

Darian's heart pounded in his chest. Why… why did I move back?

Ken tilted his head slightly, watching him, and then—he smiled.

Not his usual cocky smirk. Not the lazy amusement he sometimes wore.

No.

This was something darker. Something sinister.

And then, with a voice as smooth as death itself, Ken whispered— "It's already too late."

A suffocating silence settled between them. The air grew heavy, charged with something unseen—something wrong.

Ken exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back. His body screamed in protest, every nerve ablaze. But he didn't falter. Didn't waver.

He brought his golden handgun up, leveling it at Darian. Then—it changed.

The polished gold melted away, swallowed by creeping blackness. Like ink bleeding through pristine paper. Like a void consuming all light. The gun trembled in his grip, sizzling with an eerie energy, tendrils of darkness curling from its surface.

Darian's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is that?"

Ken didn't answer.

His fingers tightened around the gun, and the weight of it nearly broke him.

His muscles locked. His veins burned. Every ounce of his being rebelled against what he was doing. He wasn't Tenebri. His body wasn't meant for this. Channeling their power—his borrowed power—into his bullets was like forcing a storm into a single raindrop.

His breath hitched. His vision blurred. The gun hummed, alive in his hands, and he could feel it—the raw, unstable energy, writhing, desperate to be unleashed.

He grinned through clenched teeth. "Let's see how indestructible you really are."

With a sharp breath, he pulled the trigger.

A gunshot cracked through the battlefield—

—but it wasn't just a bullet that left the barrel.

It was a black streak of death, a force that ripped through the air, howling like a specter, its presence warping the very space around it. The moment it connected—

BOOM.

The impact sent shockwaves exploding outward. Dust and debris erupted into the air, swallowing Darian whole. The ground cracked beneath his feet.

Ken barely managed to stay standing, his body swaying. His knees buckled for a split second before he forced himself upright, panting, his head pounding. Blood dripped from his nose, staining the corner of his lips. His vision swam.

He had only fired one bullet.

And yet—it felt like he had just set fire to his own soul.

Nicole's blood-red eyes burned with a haunting glow as she advanced on Sylvaine, her movements sharper, faster, and far more aggressive than before. The Blood Pact coursed through her veins, amplifying her strength beyond human limits. The air itself seemed heavier, charged with an unnatural force.

Sylvaine gritted her teeth, struggling to keep up. Her Eclipse Chains lashed out, wrapping around Nicole's limbs, but with a flex of enhanced strength, Nicole ripped them apart like fragile threads. The silver-haired girl barely had time to react before a devastating jab smashed into her jaw—a hit so forceful it sounded like a gunshot cracking through the arena.

The impact sent Sylvaine skidding backward, her body flipping mid-air before she crashed onto the stone floor. She coughed violently, gasping for air, her fingers trembling as she tried to push herself up.

Nicole didn't chase after her immediately. Instead, she let out a slow breath, clenching her fists. She could feel it now—the toll.

Her muscles burned, her vision blurred at the edges, and a dull ache spread through her chest, like something was clawing at her from the inside. Ten minutes. That was the limit. Any longer, and the borrowed power would start draining her life force instead of fueling it.

Sylvaine wiped blood from her lips, silver eyes locking onto Nicole's. "That… power…" she muttered, forcing herself to stand.

Nicole's lips curled into a smirk. "You should've given up when you had the chance."

Sylvaine didn't respond. Instead, she whipped her arm, sending the remaining chains hurtling toward Nicole, but Nicole saw through it. She ducked, closed the distance in a blink, and drove her fist straight into Sylvaine's gut. The force lifted the girl off her feet, knocking the air from her lungs as her body arched from the impact.

Sylvaine crashed onto her knees, coughing violently, her vision darkening. She tried to get back up, but her limbs refused to obey. Nicole loomed over her, breathing heavily, her eyes still glowing but flickering slightly as the Blood Pact neared its limit.

"This match is over," Nicole declared.

And just like that, Sylvaine collapsed, unable to fight any longer.

Nicole exhaled, rolling her shoulders. The rush of power was fading now, leaving behind a dull ache in her bones. She clenched her fists, feeling the tremors in her muscles—the aftershock of wielding strength beyond her natural limits. Ten minutes. She was dangerously close to overextending.

Still, she had won.

And now, she turned to see how Ken and Liam were faring.

Nicole's legs felt like lead as she trudged toward where I and Ken sat. The last remnants of the Blood Pact flickered away, and with it, the unnatural strength that had carried her through the fight. Every muscle ached, her bones felt too heavy, and the burning sensation in her veins had dulled into an uncomfortable throb.

Ken and I were already seated, our backs resting against a crumbling stone pillar. For the first time since we became a team, none of us were untouched. Bruises, cuts, and the weight of exhaustion covered us like battle scars. Ken's shirt was torn, revealing the deep imprint of Darian's blow against his ribs. I have dried blood on my face, the aftermath of Rael's relentless attacks.

Nicole exhaled and dropped down beside us, her body screaming in protest.

For a moment, no one spoke. Just the sound of our ragged breathing filled the air.

Ken let out a dry chuckle, wincing as he ran a hand through his blood-matted hair. "That was a hell of a warm-up."

Nicole scoffed. "If that was a warm-up, I don't wanna know what the real thing feels like."

My arms crossed over my knees, as I simply huffed, shifting my gaze to the sky. My usual sharp glare had softened, fatigue finally catching up to me.

The arena was eerily silent now, save for the occasional groan of fallen fighters. The dust had settled, the echoes of battle fading into the wind.

Ken stretched out his legs, flinching slightly. "So... who's gonna break it to me that I look like crap?"

Nicole smirked, tilting her head toward him. "I thought you always looked like that."

I chuckled under my breath. "She's got a point."

Ken shot us both an unimpressed glare but let it go. Even he was too tired to fire back.

The countdown for the round's conclusion loomed, but at that moment, it didn't matter. For the first time, we weren't just a team fighting together—we were a team that had bled, endured, and survived together.

And somehow, despite everything, that realization felt like a victory of its own.

As the dust settled around us, the countdown for the round's end began. The battlefield, once alive with the clash of power, was now silent—yet the air remained charged, as if the fight wasn't truly over.

My bruised fingers tightened into fists. This battle had tested us, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing beyond these walls.

Far away, beneath the eclipsed sky of the Shadow Realm, another battle was about to begin. One that wouldn't be fought for glory, but for something far greater.

And as I sat in the aftermath of my own battle, a whisper of unease crawled down my spine.

Somewhere, in the heart of the Shadow Realm, Selena's fight was about to begin.

**********"