The atmosphere within the Shadow Catacombs was tense, the air thick with anticipation.
Without warning, he broke free from elrics shadow bind. A figure cloaked in darkness emerged from what appeared to be a tear in space itself—a level of spatial manipulation far beyond typical dungeon mechanics. The assassin moved with lethal precision, each step calculated, each movement flowing like water in moonlight. The assassin's blade gleamed with an unnatural luster as it sliced through the air, targeting Lucien directly.
Reacting instinctively, Lucien twisted his body, the blade grazing his shoulder—a shallow wound, but a stark reminder of the threat's seriousness. Blood welled from the cut, droplets spattering on the ancient stone floor.
The assassin didn't speak, didn't gloat. There was only cold, professional focus in the way he positioned himself between the team and the exit. A mask of black steel covered his features, with only narrow slits for eyes that gleamed with unnatural purple light.
"Protect the wounded," Lucien commanded as Rhys struggled to stand after being thrown against the wall. "Elric, containment pattern three."
The assassin wasted no time. A flurry of strikes followed—sharp, precise, and meant to kill. His movements were fast, almost like melting shadows, his body vanishing and reappearing with every blink. Shadow-step, an advanced technique that only B-rank shadow practitioners should be capable of.
Lucien parried and dodged with calm, measured movements. He didn't match the assassin's speed—instead, he predicted trajectories, positioning himself just outside the kill zone of each strike. Every clash of steel rang like a bell in the chamber, echoing off ancient walls that had witnessed countless battles. His Adaptation trait kicked in, subtly correcting his angles, his balance, and his timing.
Meanwhile, Elric attempted to control the shadows around the assassin, trying to slow his movements. The assassin responded by triggering shadow-infused throwing knives that disrupted Elric's control, forcing him to dodge wildly.
"His equipment is enchanted," Danae called out, throwing up a hasty barrier that shattered almost immediately under the assassin's precise strike. "Anti-mana properties!"
The assassin aimed a sweeping strike at Lucien's legs—but Lucien leapt over, rotating mid-air with perfect control, and with a flash of his blade, slashed across the assassin's ribs. It wasn't a deep wound, but it was the first hit they'd landed.
Blood splattered against the wall, unnaturally dark. The assassin hissed—the first sound they'd made—and vanished again into the shadows.
Lucien narrowed his eyes, a subtle glow emanating from them. "Spatial Awareness: Active."
The dungeon seemed to slow around him, edges becoming sharper, movements more predictable. He could feel the displacement of air—behind!
Lucien ducked without looking back. A dagger skimmed over his head, so close it sliced a few strands of hair.
He turned, slamming his elbow into the assassin's gut. The impact forced the shadowy figure into view, momentarily disrupting whatever technique they were using to blend with the darkness.
"Now, Calen!" Lucien called.
Two arrows whistled through the air, but the assassin recovered quickly, deflecting one and catching the other bare-handed. With a flick of the wrist, he sent Calen's own arrow back at him with doubled force. Danae barely managed to throw up a partial barrier, the arrow splintering against it.
"He is toying with us," Lyra gasped, clutching a wound on her forearm.
"No," Lucien replied calmly, repositioning his stance. "He is assessing our abilities. Gathering intelligence."
The two clashed again, fast and brutal. Sparks flew from blades, the rhythm intensifying into a deadly dance. The assassin was skilled—movements honed by countless battles and professional training. But Lucien was relentless. Calm. Focused. Each exchange taught him something new about his opponent's style.
Three minutes into the fight, Lucien had cataloged seventeen distinct patterns in the assassin's attack sequences. His Adaptation trait was analyzing each one, looking for weaknesses, inconsistencies, openings.
And then—he found one.
The assassin favored their right side after a shadow-step, compensating for a millisecond of imbalance with an aggressive forward thrust. It was nearly imperceptible, but to Lucien's enhanced awareness, it was as clear as daylight.
Lucien feinted a high slash. The assassin responded exactly as predicted, shadow-stepping to Lucien's right and launching that familiar thrust. But this time, they overcommitted, and in that split-second of imbalance—
"Devour."
The word wasn't shouted. It was spoken calmly, almost conversationally, as if Lucien were commenting on the weather. But the effect was immediate and terrifying.
Black tendrils emerged from Lucien's shadow, coiling around the assassin like hungry serpents. They weren't physical manifestations but seemed to exist in a space between reality and shadow, grasping and pulling with inexorable strength.
The assassin struggled, his fluid grace replaced by desperate thrashing. For the first time, real emotion broke through their professional demeanor—fear.
"What is this?" the assassin demanded, voice distorted through their mask. "This isn't an Arkanveil technique!"
Lucien didn't answer. His eyes simply watched, calm and dispassionate, as the tendrils dragged the assassin downward toward his shadow.
The assassin's eyes widened behind his mask. He screamed—a chilling sound that echoed through the chamber—but it was too late for resistance or escape.
In moments, he was absorbed into Lucien's shadow, which rippled briefly before settling back into normal stillness. The room returned to silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Lucien's teammates.
A system notification appeared in Lucien's vision, visible only to him:
[Devour Successful]
[Target Soulbound – Shadow Soldier Created]
[Rank: B → Downscaled to Peak D until synchronization complete]
Lucien exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder where the assassin's blade had cut him. The pain from the wound stung, but it was manageable. More importantly, the technique had worked—another ability unlocked from his unique inheritance, one he'd been keeping in reserve.
A second notification appeared:
[New Trait Acquired: Pain Enhancement – C Rank]
[Increases the pain felt by enemies injured by the user, doubling their pain threshold.]
He frowned slightly, considering the trait's utility. "Not useful."
[Trait discarded into Adaptation.]
[Flow of Adaptation analyzing trait structure...]
The system responded instantly to his mental command, breaking down the unwanted trait and feeding its essence into his core ability. It wasn't that the trait was weak—pain manipulation could be devastating in the right circumstances—but it didn't align with his developing strategy.
The silence stretched as his team stared at him, their expressions ranging from shock to awe.
"What... what just happened?" Rhys finally asked, leaning heavily against the wall, one hand pressed to his injured side. "Where did the assassin go?"
Elric's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Lucien's shadow. Had he seen something? His shadow manipulation abilities might make him more sensitive to what had just occurred.
"I forced them to retreat," Lucien replied smoothly, the lie coming easily. "A specialized counter-technique against shadow practitioners." He turned back to his team, who were recovering from the shock and minor wounds sustained during the brief but intense battle.
He gave a short nod, his expression betraying nothing of the significant power he'd just revealed and then concealed. "Everyone, regroup. Heal up. We have five minutes before we continue."
Danae moved to heal the worst injuries, her barriers now reconfigured for regenerative properties. As she worked on Rhys's cracked ribs, she whispered, "That wasn't a normal technique, was it? The shadows moved... wrong."
"Focus on healing," Lucien replied quietly. "We'll discuss it after the trial."
No one had noticed what he'd truly done. The assassin was gone—hidden in his shadow, their knowledge, skills, and power now belonging to Lucien. Another piece added to his collection, another step toward his true goal.
As the team recovered, Lucien mentally communicated with his new acquisition.
'Who sent you?'
The answer came reluctantly, the assassin's consciousness struggling against the binding. 'The Liberation Command... Central Division... You were designated Target Alpha Priority.'
'Why?'
'Because you're not what you appear to be. The Oracle saw something in you... something that terrified them.'
Interesting. Lucien filed away this information for later analysis. The Liberation Organization had always been a shadowy presence in political circles, but direct action against an heir during a sanctioned trial was unprecedented. It suggested desperation—or extraordinary confidence.
Elric approached, his own wounds bandaged. "That was B-rank shadow manipulation," he said quietly. "You never mentioned having that capability."
"There are many things I haven't mentioned," Lucien replied, meeting his friend's gaze steadily. "Some skills are better revealed when necessary."
Elric studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I understand".
Lucien made a mental note to address this later. Elric was too valuable an ally and decided to supervise his training properly.
Finally, with everyone restored to fighting condition, the great doors to the boss chamber stood before them once more. The interruption had actually given Lucien valuable information—the assassin's memories included details about Shadow Sovereigns that weren't in any official documentation.
With calm authority, Lucien stepped forward and raised his sword, its blade gleaming with a faint crimson light that mirrored his eyes.
"Let's finish this."
Lucien allowed himself a small, cold smile as he confronted the dungeon boss.