CHAPTER 11: DON’T TRUST YOUR SHADOW

Dustin stood beneath a blood-colored sky, eyes narrowing at the towering figure before him—one cloaked in zail so dense it seemed to bend the air around them.

"Just my luck," he muttered under his breath. "I wind up facing the strongest second-ranked demon—Luvart."

A low chuckle echoed from Luvart, his smile slow and serpentine.

"Indeed, your luck," he replied with deadly amusement. "You get to die by my hands. A rare privilege."

Without a word, Dustin raised a hand, and Luvart's shadow began to ripple unnaturally. The darkness peeled itself off the ground, taking shape—tall, featureless, and deadly.

"How does fighting… and dying by your own hands sound instead?" Dustin asked, lips curled into a sly grin.

Luvart tilted his head, intrigued. "A shadow? Oh… You're that one. The Shadow Demon who was next in line to become a second-rank."

"I'm honored you've heard of me."

"Of course. Word travels fast in the Nine Circles. They said you were gifted. A prodigy. You could've risen through the ranks. But you chose the Divine."

"I had my reasons."

With a subtle motion, Dustin conjured a radiant barrier—the veon, the barrier that angels and demons use in combat to avoid destroying the earth. Its surface shimmered with celestial patterns, sealing them in.

Luvart looked pleased. "Good. I'd hate to accidentally destroy this realm before we've had our dance."

And with that, the battle began.

MEANWHILE…Far across the battlefield, another barrier enclosed another duel.

Maga hovered in midair, her eyes closed, senses sharpened. "The others have already begun," she thought. "Even the second ranks… I can feel their zail surging. It's like the entire plane is boiling."

Opposite her stood Ashton, arms folded, his massive axe humming with zail.

"You think you can match a second-ranked demon?" he scoffed. "How sad."

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Maga replied softly.

Her voice turned cold—eerily calm. "Suava."

In an instant, Ashton's world twisted. The sky flipped. The earth inverted. Maga floated upside-down—though to her, he was the one reversed.

"An illusion?" Ashton growled.

"Who knows?" she whispered.

But something was wrong. He couldn't dispel it—not with brute zail. "If this were a basic illusion, I'd have broken it already… Her power must be… conceptual."

Maga darted toward him with a sword drawn.

"A frontal strike? Bold."

He raised his axe to parry—only to feel searing pain from behind. He gasped, spinning around to find nothing. His mind reeled.

"What?! I saw her coming straight at me—how did she—"

And then it clicked. "Of course… Inversion. Her ability is inversion."

He retaliated with a slash, but it sailed through empty air. She wasn't where he thought. Again she came, and this time, when he turned his back at the last second, her blade met his axe.

"So you've figured it out," Maga said quietly.

"Yes. Once you're aware of the inversion, it's over."

She smiled faintly. "Oh, really?"

She charged again. Ashton stood firm, blade ready. But the next moment, agony tore across his chest.

"How?!" he shouted, clutching the bleeding wound.

"I'm not telling," Maga replied with a wink. **"Hmm you know what? I'll tell you—I turned off my inversion."

She raised her sword. "Now, every attack… you'll have to guess which version of me is real."

Ashton straightened, blood dripping. "That was devious. I commend you… But I'm done playing games."

His voice became steel. "Replicate."

The world around them fractured. In a blink, they vanished—transported to a separate realm, where stars swirled and time bent like glass.

"Welcome to my world," Ashton declared. "My own… galaxial space."

BACK IN THE SHADOWED BATTLEFIELD…Luvart fought fiercely—but not alone. His own shadow, now animated by Dustin's power, mirrored his attacks with uncanny precision. Fists flew, claws clashed, each blow met with another. And if that wasn't enough, Dustin himself attacked with surgical strikes from behind and the sides.

Luvart snarled, leaping back to gain space. "Fighting myself is trouble. Fitting… that only I could be worthy enough to face me." He let out a laugh, enjoying the chaos.

His crimson eyes narrowed. "But… I've deduced something."

His gaze flared with light—and at once, the shadow's eyes glowed in perfect mimicry.

Dustin tensed. "Damn… he figured it out."

In a heartbeat, Luvart's aura swallowed the shadow whole. The control shifted.

"You've lost possession," Luvart sneered. "Now… my shadow is mine again. Attack!"

The shadow turned—no longer Dustin's weapon, but Luvart's own deadly puppet.

Dustin reacted swiftly. With a thought, the conjured shade dispersed into mist.

"So," he muttered, sweat glistening, "his ability really is possession. The rumors were true. That's bad for me."

Luvart's eyes glowed again. He was preparing to take control of Dustin himself.

Dustin immediately closed his eyes—but Luvart laughed.

"That won't help. My possession isn't based on eye contact. I overwhelm your being with zail—it seeps in and rewrites you. No escape."

Luvart's zail enveloped Dustin.

"You're weak," Luvart mocked, voice echoing inside Dustin's mind. "Bow."

And against his will, Dustin obeyed—falling to one knee before him.

"Yes," Luvart said, delighted. "Bow to the strongest second-rank demon. This is the gap between you and me."

But then—something flickered behind him.

A sharp pain erupted in Luvart's chest. He looked down in disbelief to see a blade protruding from his heart.

"Wh—what?!"

Before him, the kneeling Dustin vanished into mist.

"How?!" he screamed.

Behind him, the real Dustin emerged from the shadow, grinning.

"You want the truth?" Dustin said with a chuckle.

"While you were fighting your own shadow, I created a shadow clone."

Luvart's eyes widened in realisation.

"Then, I hid inside its shadow. When the timing was right, I slipped into your shadow—waiting. I knew what you were capable of, Luvart. I planned for this."

Zail surged around Dustin like a nova. He raised his sword —and struck.

The explosion ripped through the battlefield, fire and shadow blending into a symphony of destruction.