[Trait Acquired: Shadow Soldier (SS+)] Create loyal shadows from fallen foes. 70% of their power. Bound by soul.
The system interface glowed softly before the MC's eyes.
[System Panel - Arkanveil Heir]Name: Lucien Arkanveil Title: Reincarnated Strategist | Prodigy of the ArkanveilLevel: 41Trait 1: Devour (EX)Trait 2: Adaptation (SSS)Trait 3: Eye of Data (SS)Trait 4: Shadow Soldier (SS+)
Skill Panel:Swordsmanship Lv 7 (1698/2000)Mana Control Lv 8 (432/3000)Tactics Lv 10 → Evolved: [Battle Architect]Stealth Lv 6 (2010/2500)Shadow Forging Lv 1 (0/500)
Storage Grid: 21 Slots OpenUnique Perk: [Proficiency Panel: Active]
A whisper of shadow rose around his feet. The MC stood alone in the dusk-touched arena he had designed beneath the eastern ridge.
Behind him, rising from the darkness of the stone walls and soil, figures emerged—silent, spectral, and bound to his will.
Six in total.
Three knights, one mage, a rogue, and a monk-like brawler. All felled by the MC during the mountain trial. All his now—shadowy echoes retaining 70% of their peak might.
"Elric."
The boy stepped into the arena. Sword strapped to his back, face steady despite the chill. No guards. No armor. Just grit and a heart desperate to become more.
"Your trial is not to win," the MC said. "Your trial is to survive. To understand."
Then he turned and vanished into the shadows.
Elric barely had time to draw his blade before the rogue shadow struck. A blur—faster than any sparring partner. He deflected the blade, rolled into a crouch, and hissed.
Two knights rushed him next, flanking with precision. One slashed for the gut, the other aimed for his shoulder. Elric spun, taking a glancing hit, redirecting his counter into the knight's throat.
Nothing.
The knight did not falter.
"No fear. No pain," Elric muttered. "They don't care if they die."
He adjusted his stance. He fought not as a child soldier, but as a boy trying to stand against the weight of ghosts.
Every cut bled.
But every breath taught him something.
He remembered his father's lessons—blades were conversations. And right now, the shadows spoke with brutality.
He answered.
The mage shadow loosed bolts of compressed mana. One grazed his leg. He ducked behind a pillar, panting, as the brawler smashed through stone like paper. He was surrounded. He was bleeding.
And yet...
He was alive.
He thought of his sister. Her laughter. Her flower crowns.
He gritted his teeth. "I will protect them. Even from nightmares."
A sudden stillness. The rogue shadow approached again—faster this time.
But Elric saw it now. The pattern. The predictability hidden in the chaos.
He turned. Struck. A clean slash through the illusion's throat.
The shadow flickered—and faded.
[Shadow Soldier Dispersed.]
The others didn't pause. They accelerated.
"I see…" Elric muttered, lips bloody. "Break them one by one. Push the control."
He focused not on strength, but on rhythm.
Dodge, parry, bait.
He landed a blow on the mage. Another on the knight. The shadows trembled—not in pain, but in the echo of will.
The MC watched from the darkness, eyes narrow.
"He learns fast," he murmured. "Too fast."
But that was good.
He needed a commander. Not just a follower.
Minutes passed like hours. Blood stained the arena. But Elric's gaze never broke.
One shadow fell. Then another.
By the end, only the brawler remained—a towering brute of dark aura.
Elric's legs wobbled. His breath ragged.
But his blade was steady.
"Come then."
The brawler roared and charged.
Elric didn't dodge. He stepped into the blow, used the force to spin behind, and drove his sword through the shadow's spine.
Silence.
The shadow crumbled.
Elric collapsed to his knees.
[Trial Complete.]
The MC emerged, clapping slowly.
"You are no longer just a boy with a blade."
"Then what am I?" Elric asked, barely conscious.
The MC crouched beside him.
"You're my shadow. And one day, you'll lead them."
Elric smiled through blood.
"Then teach me."
In the following days, the MC began Elric's true training—not just in combat, but in control. Shadow Forging. Leadership. Tactics.
And in return, Elric gave his all.
From the ashes of loss, from the steel of trial—
A commander began to rise.