The Final Wave (Shadow Duel)

The arena stilled. The firestorms faded. The shattered platforms stopped spinning. The blood and dust and magic recoil settled like ash over a battlefield long-abandoned. Only one platform remained. Smooth obsidian. Runed with pale white sigils pulsing in rhythm with a heartbeat that wasn't his.

The System's voice echoed again.

[Final Wave Designation: Duel Format.] 

[Designated Combatants: Cadia Serath of House Merilith vs. Anomaly Eryndor Vaelith.] 

[Noncompliance = Forfeiture + Faction Nullification.]

The crowd that had been mere shadows in the upper balconies stirred, leaned forward. Dozens of instructors. Rival factions. Elite upperclassmen. Observers. They all watched now. A spotlight of silent moonlight pierced the clouds.

Cadia descended like a silver ghost. Silver-threaded dueling cloak, black armor etched in ancestral Merilith runes, a rapier of pure sigil-steel humming with contained light. She landed softly across from him.

Eryndor stood where he had not yet moved. Chest still heaving from the last wave. Shoulder still bleeding. Muscles bruised, lungs raw. No time to rest. No exit. Only her.

Cadia smiled like a noblewoman offering tea.

"So. This is the monster beneath the anomaly tag."

He didn't respond. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I had hoped you'd look more like a monster. It's always more tragic when monsters wear human skin."

The platform sealed. Barriers rose silently around them, glowing like frozen starlight.

[Begin.]

She struck first. Fast. Faster than anything he'd faced yet. Not brute speed like the Black Enforcers, not the sloppy bursts of other students. She moved like a blade through velvet. Effortless. A rapier thrust aimed cleanly for his neck. He ducked under it, feeling the wind shear the top layer of skin from his cheek.

Her second strike curved mid-air, guided by a chain spell etched into her weapon's edge. It snapped sideways—unnatural, impossible—and nearly impaled his side. He caught it with the flat of his blade and redirected it into a sliding pivot.

The clash rang like silver on glass. Cadia didn't blink.

"I see. You're better with blood on you."

He said nothing. She pressed forward, chains flaring from her off-hand like silver tendrils. They wrapped around pillars, arced across platforms, dragging her midair as she flipped and twisted through impossible angles.

Eryndor blocked the next thrust—but not fast enough. Her rapier kissed his thigh. A shallow cut. Controlled. She could've gone deeper.

He staggered, only for a moment. She smiled again. "Don't fall apart so soon. They're watching."

Eryndor pressed his boot into the floor, kicked backward, and launched himself behind a half-collapsed monolith. It shattered under her pursuing lunge. He twisted sideways, using the debris cloud to vanish low across the field.

She's faster. But she follows rhythm. He adjusted. Let the pain settle. Let the blood run cold.

Adapt. Or die. He shifted angles. No more straight duels. He moved in feints, slashes, traps. She adjusted with him. Each time he turned, she curved. When he set traps, she used them against him. Her chains rewired terrain to her advantage, moving her with perfect efficiency. Her footwork never stumbled. Her stance never broke.

He bled from five cuts now. Nothing fatal. But she was making a point.

You don't belong here.

Eryndor clenched his jaw. His mana flared low—just enough to fuel a rune trap scrawled beneath a broken pillar. He kicked it free, sending debris crashing toward her.

She swayed aside like wind through reeds. Countered. Caught his blade between chain loops and twisted. His sword arm screamed. He had one second. He drove his heel into her knee.

Cadia hissed, not in pain but surprise. He broke free. She backflipped out of range, landing lightly. Her silver hair trailed behind like smoke.

"Well played," she said. "But that's all it was."

Her aura surged. For the first time, she activated her House crest. The Merilith serpent—silver coils around a blooming rose—flared at her back.

System glow ignited.

[House Merilith – Elite Bloodline Activated: Chain Serpent Core] 

[Combat Class Rank: Advanced Duellist – Grade B]

Eryndor watched silently. The arena lights shifted. She was no longer fighting. She was announcing.

"I want everyone to see," she said softly, "what happens when you let errors slip through the cracks."

The next strike was not a lunge. It was an assault. Full-form chain storm. Her rapier a blur, her off-hand casting sigil spears like mirrored shards. The platform fractured under her pressure. It took everything Eryndor had to deflect, dodge, twist—and still he caught a blast against his ribs that sent him sprawling.

Pain flared. His vision blurred.

Get up. Not yet. Get up.

Her chains were already wrapping around his ankles. His arm refused to lift. Above, she loomed.

"It's not personal, anomaly. But you don't belong in this seat."

She raised the rapier. Then paused. Eryndor's blood had trailed into the cracks beneath the stone. And his finger traced one final rune on the ground with that blood.

[Trigger.]

The runes flared. A binding chain of his own—a reactive glyph matrix carved beneath the arena since the match began—snapped upward and caught her ankle, dragging her posture half a step off-balance. He moved. Fast. Brutal. Not elegant. A knee to the gut. A slash to the gauntlet. A reversal of her own chain against her.

Cadia crashed hard against the stone. The crowd gasped. Eryndor stood over her, blade lowered but not aimed. The System blinked once.

[Combat Locked – Pending Evaluation.]

Cadia laughed softly through a cracked breath.

"…Good."

Cadia lay still. Not unconscious. Not broken.

Eryndor stood over her, weapon lowered, breathing hard. 

The crowd above had fallen into eerie silence.

The System lingered.

[Combat Locked – Pending Evaluation.]

Cadia exhaled slowly, eyes locked on his.

"You could've killed me."

"I didn't," he said simply.

She blinked once. Then smiled. Not cruelly. Not even mockingly. Just...curiously.

"Why not?"

Eryndor didn't answer. Not for her. Not for the System. Not for the audience. Just turned, cloak torn, one hand bloodied, and walked away.

The System's voice echoed across the arena like thunder.

[Simulation Complete.] 

[Victory: Anomaly – Eryndor Vaelith.] 

[Faction: The Lost Ones – Combat Certification: Unbroken.] 

[Observation Protocol Updated: High Risk.] 

[All participants dismissed.]

The shields dropped. The field went dim. Above, the watching students erupted. Some cheers. Some shouts of outrage. Whispers of monster. Of outcast. Of threat.

The Lost Ones stood waiting near the threshold. The Unborn, silent. Flicker staring in stunned disbelief. The Mana-Cursed Girl...smiling faintly, though she tried to hide it.

Eryndor stepped down the obsidian stairs as the arena began to collapse into its reset form. No words.

He passed Cadia as she rose to her feet. She didn't stop him. Just murmured one final thought:

"You've set something in motion now, Eryndor Vaelith. I look forward to where it ends."

He didn't turn. Didn't speak. But the System flickered faintly as he stepped onto the final stone.

[Dead Seat Fragment: Signal Weakly Detected.] 

[Source: Beneath Arena Sublevel.] 

[Clearance Required: Forbidden.]

His eyes narrowed slightly. Just slightly. Then the light swallowed them all.