The lower tunnels of the eastern garrison stretched endlessly, the air dense with a bitter metallic scent. Pipes hissed with faint mana leakage, and the glow of azure dust clung to the walls like cold fireflies.
Shadow moved in silence, eyes fixed ahead, his presence erased completely. He had already mapped the corridors in his mind—every turn, every door, every dead end. Yet the silence felt heavier than before, as though the place itself was watching him.
A sound echoed behind him. Footsteps—soft, light, but too familiar.
He spun around, blade half-drawn.
"Shadow?"
The voice froze him mid-motion. From the corridor's edge emerged Rena, her silver eyes gleaming faintly in the dim blue light. Behind her followed Lena, Sera, and Ryn, their expressions tense but calm.
"...You shouldn't be here," Shadow said quietly, his tone unreadable.
Rena's gaze held steady. "You didn't really think we'd let you go alone, did you? The moment you slipped out, I knew where you were heading."
For a heartbeat, relief brushed through him—then something colder settled beneath it.
He sheathed his blade slowly. "You tracked me?"
"Of course," Rena replied with a small smile. "You're reckless when you go silent."
Her voice was the same. Her mannerisms perfect. Yet something about the rhythm of her words… it lacked warmth. It sounded constructed.
Still, he said nothing. "Fine. Stay behind me."
They advanced deeper. The tunnels twisted into a descending spiral, lined with steel conduits and humming mana crystals. The deeper they went, the more lifeless the air became.
"Do you feel that?" Ryn whispered. "It's like something's breathing through the walls."
Lena nodded, hand on her dagger. "Mana pulses—too uniform. Someone's controlling it."
Shadow barely listened. His focus flicked to their movements—how Lena's steps mirrored Ryn's exactly. Even their breathing fell in sync. Not similar. Identical.
He slowed his pace. "How did you find this place?"
Sera answered too quickly. "We traced the residue you followed. Simple enough."
But her eyes didn't blink. Not once.
They reached a massive door at the tunnel's end, sealed with shifting blue runes. The symbol carved into its core burned faintly—the same serpentine cross he had seen before. Shadow touched it, and his gauntlet pulsed faintly in recognition.
Rena stepped forward beside him. "We should move fast before reinforcements arrive."
That tone again. Too composed. Too calm for someone standing in front of something that radiated such pressure.
Then, faintly, he heard it—the sound of boots. Dozens.
Guards swarming in from behind.
"How did they—" he hissed, but stopped himself.
He had erased every trace of his mana. Concealment layered thrice. No one should have been able to sense him.
Unless someone close to him was leaking his position.
His eyes flicked to Rena and the trio. The guards' movements aligned perfectly with their placement—every time he shifted paths, the patrol redirected without delay.
"Rena," he said quietly, "what's your mana count right now?"
She turned toward him with that same serene smile. "Why?"
He didn't answer. In one clean motion, he vanished.
When he reappeared behind her, his blade passed through her shoulder—metal shrieked instead of flesh. Sparks burst from the wound, blue mana spilling like fluid.
The others turned in perfect unison, faces flickering—skin distorting into pale mimicry of flesh over steel frames.
Rena's copy tilted her head. "So you found out."
Shadow's expression hardened. "You shouldn't have used their faces."
They moved instantly. The three puppets lunged forward, blades drawn, mana flaring with unnatural precision. Their strength was mid-tier—level 28, each one. But their coordination was mechanical, flawless, without hesitation or emotion.
Steel clashed against darkness. Shadow slipped between their strikes like a phantom, his gauntlet shattering one puppet's head with a crushing blow, gears and mana dust scattering through the air.
Another lunged from behind, but he pivoted, blade slicing upward, bisecting it cleanly. The third fell moments later, dissolving into fragments of light and cold metal.
The false Rena staggered back, half her face split open to reveal polished steel beneath. Even then, she smiled eerily. "You're not meant to be here, Shadow. They're waiting for you below."
"Then they'll regret it," he whispered, driving his blade through her chest.
The puppet fell. Silence followed, thick and suffocating.
He stood there for a long moment, eyes fixed on the broken remnants. A faint hum lingered in the air—like an echo of sorrow, or perhaps mockery.
He didn't know who had sent them, or how they'd copied Rena and the others so perfectly. But the message was clear.
Someone had been watching. Studying. Preparing.
He turned toward the sealed door once more, the symbol glowing faintly under his touch. "If that's your game," he muttered, "I'll play it."
And with that, the shadows swallowed him once again.