Back at the Arena
"Mr. Aado!" I shouted toward where I'd last seen the headmaster, distracted for a fatal second by the explosion and chaos.
Jeremi's fist connected with my face before I could react, the impact sending stars exploding across my vision. I stumbled backward, tasting copper.
"I told you to focus, did I not? Don't worry about him. Worry about your own damn self!"
This guy is so annoying right now. Geez.
"Mind if I join this fight? I got a bone to pick with Shadow over here."
I turned to see Devanga approaching, his massive frame somehow even more intimidating than usual. The big guy was angry—really angry—and I couldn't blame him.
"Whatever gets this done quicker, I'm game," I replied, grateful for the backup.
"Move away, Dumbo. I already beat you. This is between me and him." Jeremi's dismissive tone would have been insulting even without the childhood nickname.
"I don't like your mouth. Landslide Devastation!" Devanga's fists erupted with earth-based energy, massive chunks of stone materializing around them as he charged forward.
Then Jeremi said something that made my blood run cold.
"Sorry, Anjero. I was holding back also."
"Huh?"
"Behold..."
The change started subtly—a glow that began in Jeremi's chest and spread outward like cracks in glass filled with light. But this wasn't the warm, healthy glow of normal spirit energy. This was something else. Something wrong.
Black and purple energy poured from every inch of his body, his form becoming obscured by the writhing mass of power. His shadow stretched and twisted, becoming three-dimensional, alive.
"WRAITH FORM: ROGUE!"
The transformation completed in seconds. When the energy cleared, Jeremi stood transformed. His eyes had gone completely white—no pupils, no iris, just blank orbs that seemed to look through rather than at the world. Dark markings crawled across his exposed skin like living tattoos, and his shadow moved independently of his body, reaching and grasping like a separate entity.
"Devanga, stop! Something doesn't feel right!" I called out, my instincts screaming danger.
"I got this joke. He's my prey!" Devanga's confidence was admirable but misplaced.
What happened next defied belief. Jeremi didn't punch, didn't kick, didn't even move his feet. He simply flicked his finger—a casual, dismissive gesture.
The resulting wave of energy picked Devanga up like he weighed nothing and hurled him across the arena. The big man's body carved a trench through solid stone before slamming into the far wall with enough force to crack the reinforced structure. He didn't get up.
When Jeremi spoke again, his voice had changed. It was layered, multiple tones speaking in perfect synchronization—as if two beings shared the same mouth.
"Now, where were we?"
"Devanga!" I screamed, but my friend remained motionless against the wall. I don't know what happened to you, but you're out of hand here.
"Oh, this?" The dual-voiced Jeremi gestured to himself, the movement fluid and wrong, like watching someone move underwater. "This is what true spirit power is! Can you feel this pressure? This energy feels amazing!"
He was right—the pressure was immense. It felt like the air itself had become heavier, pressing down on my shoulders and making each breath a conscious effort. The energy pouring off him was visible, a dark aura that distorted the space around him. And those eyes—those blank, soulless eyes that held no trace of the person I'd spoken with just minutes ago.
"And now I have an opponent to test it on. Come, Anjero! Let me test this power on you! CURSE PULSE!"
The attack materialized as a sphere of concentrated darkness, crackling with malevolent energy as it hurtled toward me. The killing intent behind it was unmistakable—this wasn't a tournament technique meant to disable or ring-out. This was designed to obliterate.
"Oh shit! Are you trying to kill me or something with that?" I threw myself aside, the curse energy passing so close I could feel its corruption trying to latch onto my spirit.
Where it impacted the arena wall, the stone didn't just crack—it aged, crumbling to dust in seconds as if centuries had passed in an instant.
"Oh, I knew you could dodge that!" The twisted joy in that dual voice made my skin crawl. "Keep dancing for me!"
This wasn't Jeremi anymore. Or if it was, it was Jeremi mixed with something else—something that didn't care about rules or safety or human life.
I was alone in an arena with a monster wearing my opponent's face, the academy was under attack, my friends were trapped, and I had no idea if I was fast enough, strong enough, or lucky enough to survive the next sixty seconds.
The only thing I knew for certain was that running wasn't an option.
Not with everyone counting on me.
Not when the real fight was just beginning.Back with Aado
The smoke from the explosion created an apocalyptic backdrop as Aado faced the four Nightstalkers. His usual calm demeanor had shifted into something harder, more dangerous—the bearing of someone who'd seen real combat and knew exactly what it cost.
"Who do you all work for?" he demanded again, his voice carrying an edge that made even Sans hesitate.
Sans recovered quickly, a smirk playing at his lips. "Well, you should know him well, Aado."
"That's Mr. Aado to you!"
Rino laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "We don't respect you enough for that. Everyone, attack him all at once!"
The four Nightstalkers moved in perfect synchronization, their spirit abilities erupting simultaneously. Sans's smoke mixed with Tariek's shadow constructs, while Saion's energy blasts combined with Rino's spatial distortions, creating a maelstrom of deadly force converging on the headmaster.
"Holy Shield!"
Aado's barrier materialized in a dome of golden light, but the sustained assault was unlike anything he'd faced from students before. These weren't children playing at being warriors—they were trained, coordinated, and utterly ruthless.
"That won't hold out for long! Maximum output, everyone!" Saion called out, and the attacks intensified.
Shit, it's breaking. I guess I have no choice. Hairline fractures spread across the shield's surface, light bleeding through the cracks.
The shield shattered like glass, and Aado launched himself skyward, his flight ability carrying him above the immediate danger zone.
"WRAITH FORM: LIGHT!"
The transformation was instantaneous and blinding. Pure white energy erupted from Aado's body, his form becoming almost too bright to look at directly. Wings of condensed light spread from his back, and his eyes blazed with holy fire.
"What is that?" Sans's confidence evaporated, replaced by genuine fear. "He never warned us about that!"
"Too bad he didn't," Aado replied, his voice resonating with power. "BLINDING WAVE!"
The attack should have ended it—a pulse of purifying light strong enough to knock out all four attackers and break whatever hold their master had on them.
Should have.
A hand emerged from the shadows, catching the wave of light and crushing it like it was nothing more than a firefly. The figure that stepped forward made Aado's blood run cold despite the heat of his transformation.
"I should've known it was you, Kuro Yami... or should I say Kuro Aado?"
The man who emerged from the darkness was tall and lean, with features that were a cruel mirror of Aado's own. Where the headmaster's face showed the lines of care and worry earned through years of protecting students, Kuro's held only contempt and bitter amusement.
"Well, I only came here because my minions couldn't get it done." Kuro's smile was all teeth and no warmth. "Haha, it's been so long, little brother."
"Hey, I am not a minion!" Sans protested, his pride apparently outweighing his survival instinct.
"Shut the hell up! Grown-ups are talking." Kuro didn't even glance at him, his eyes locked on Aado. "Now, I don't want to kill you, my dear little brother. I just need your spirit... that's all."
"For what?"
"That's not something I feel like telling you, little bro."
The casual dismissal, the pet name delivered with such poisonous affection—it all brought back memories Aado had tried to bury. "Stop calling me that. We aren't family. Not ever since you chose to betray everyone!" He turned his fury on the Nightstalkers. "And you other guardians should be ashamed to side with this coward!"
The four students began smirking in perfect unison, their expressions showing not a trace of shame or regret.
"Sometimes it's just easier to play the villain," Tariek said with a casual shrug. "It's so much fun."
"I agree," Rino added.
"I'm so disgusted just hearing that," Aado spat.
Kuro spread his hands in a gesture of false reasonableness. "It's not so bad, Hajime. Just give in to the cause, and everything will be better."
The use of his first name—the name no one had spoken in decades—was the final straw.
"Never! I'll stop you here and now! BLINDING FLASH!"
Pure light erupted from Aado's form, a technique meant to end fights instantly by overwhelming an opponent's senses and spirit energy simultaneously. It was his most powerful attack, one he'd sworn never to use on students.
But Kuro wasn't a student.
"Poor little brother. You could never beat me." Kuro's form began to shift, darkness bleeding from his skin like ink in water. "WRAITH FORM: DARK!"
Where Aado's transformation had been blinding, Kuro's was absorbing—a void that seemed to drink in light and hope and warmth. His shadow expanded, becoming three-dimensional, reaching out with countless tendrils of pure darkness.
"Haaaaaa!" Aado poured everything into his attack, light versus dark, brother against brother.
"Come to me, little brother. DARK HAVOC!"
The collision of their powers tore through what remained of the North wing, light and darkness canceling each other out in explosions of raw energy. The Nightstalkers scattered, even them recognizing when they were in over their heads.
But in the center of the maelstrom, two brothers fought with the weight of decades of betrayal and broken bonds driving every blow.