Two Weeks Later
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The moment I stepped into the Class A sparring grounds, the room went quiet.
Not silent because of respect. Silent because of curiosity — and maybe just a little malice.
I could feel it. Eyes sizing me up like I was some imposter who slipped past the gate without paying.
It didn't help that most of these people were nobles or prodigies from big clans. Me? I was just… me.
And they still hated that, despite showing my superiority.
"Hey," a voice called out, sharp and dripping arrogance. "How about we see if you actually belong here?"
The challenger stepped forward — tall, crisp uniform, a family crest stitched into the sleeve like a badge of honor. His hair was perfect. His smile wasn't.
The class murmured in approval, already expecting to watch me get cut down.
I gave him a small nod.
"Sure."
The instructor raised a brow but didn't interfere. The ring was cleared.
We stood opposite each other, asauchi in hand.
I didn't bother with stance yet.
"Begin!"
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The instant the word left the instructor's mouth, I let it slip.
Not my blade.
Not my Shikai.
Just… me.
My spiritual pressure rolled out like an ocean wave, slow and heavy at first — then it crashed. The air thickened. The light dimmed, though the sun was still overhead. My opponent's grin faltered, his eyes darting to the walls like he suddenly realized the shadows there were deeper than they should've been.
The ground around me seemed darker, and with each step I took, that darkness crawled outward, licking at the edges of the arena.
I didn't need to swing. I just looked at him.
His stance wavered.
The shadows were already moving — stretching, reaching, flowing toward him. They slid across the floor like ink in water, silent and patient. He tried to track them, but his gaze started to blur, pupils shaking like he couldn't keep focus. Kage was already doing its work.
I could hear his breath quicken.
The murmurs from the audience stopped.
He lunged forward in panic — blade high — and his foot caught on something that wasn't there. A tendril of shadow had curled around his ankle like it owned him.
By the time he stumbled forward, I wasn't in front of him anymore.
I was behind him.
Blade tip resting against the back of his neck.
---
The instructor's voice cut through the tension.
"Winner — Katsu Joro."
I sheathed my blade without looking back.
The noble didn't move for a moment. His hands were trembling, his breathing shallow. He'd been suffocating under my pressure without even realizing it.
I walked past him toward the edge of the ring. Every set of eyes followed, but nobody said a word.
I didn't need to prove I belonged here.
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