Pain sharpens.
Failure teaches.
The Arkanveil training cavern was dim, lit only by flickering blue torches embedded in the walls. The kind of light that made everything seem uncertain, shifting. Perfect for the lesson Lucien had prepared.
Elric stood barefoot on the stone floor, eyes narrowed, breath steady.
Lucien circled him, his steps silent, his presence a weight pressing from all sides. "You've learned to vanish," he said. "Now learn to remain."
Elric frowned. "Remain?"
Lucien stopped, then raised a finger. A flick of mana—and a clone shimmered into existence beside him.
No. Not a clone.
An echo.
The projection held no real weight. But it was perfectly timed. It mirrored Lucien's last movement with subtle delay—a ghost of his intent.
He stepped again. Another echo. A second Lucien slashing half a second behind the original, creating confusion, opening space.
Elric's eyes widened. "They're not illusions."
"No," Lucien said. "They're foreshadows."
Shadow Mirage.
Born not from magic, but from motion, will, and deadly precision. Each phantom wasn't a spell, but a projection—something only a master of timing, rhythm, and killing instinct could manifest.
"You're not fooling the eyes," Lucien continued. "You're overwhelming the mind."
---
They trained.
Elric slashed. Spun. Stepped.
But the echoes didn't form. Not yet.
Every time he thought he had it, the movement broke. Either too quick, too delayed, or not intent-driven enough. The Mirage refused to obey.
He collapsed after the third hour, sweat soaking his back, vision blurring.
Lucien crouched beside him. "You're trying to fake it."
"I have to fake it," Elric gasped. "I don't get it. It's like… I can't grab it."
Lucien offered no sympathy. Only silence. Then:
"You ever hesitate when striking someone?" he asked softly.
Elric looked up. "...Yes."
"There's your problem."
Lucien stood. "Shadow Mirage isn't just about movement. It's about conviction. When you step forward, your mind must say: I strike, and if I must kill, I kill."
Elric's fingers clenched against the stone floor.
He remembered his mother's soft voice. His father's protective embrace. He remembered the day the demon raid shattered their world—how he had hesitated while hiding with his sister.
If he hadn't... would they have lived?
That hesitation… was still there.
---
The next day, Lucien set up a new trial.
Ten dummies. Each enchanted to dodge randomly. Moving targets. No patterns. No mercy.
"Elric," Lucien said, "Your sister's behind you."
Elric turned—small Lana stood at the cavern's edge, smiling, clapping her hands.
"You have ten seconds," Lucien whispered. "They'll fire at her if you fail."
Elric's blood went cold. "What?!"
Lucien's eyes didn't blink. "Begin."
Ten dummies lit with red runes. Mana pulsed. The countdown began.
Elric moved.
He didn't think. He didn't calculate. He acted.
His blade became a blur—slashes that ignored defense, footwork that wasn't for evasion but positioning. He struck the first dummy, and as he spun—
An afterimage followed.
Then another.
By the time he reached the fifth, his motions had synced. Not perfectly. But enough.
To the dummies, there were three of him.
One moved before. One during. One after.
They struck at the wrong one, and fell in return.
Ten seconds passed. All ten were down.
Elric panted. Trembled.
And Lana clapped louder, beaming.
Lucien gave the faintest nod.
Shadow Mirage: Level 1 unlocked.
---
That night, Elric stood before a mirror. He held no weapon.
Just himself.
He stepped forward—and saw a flicker of himself move behind the glass, a heartbeat delayed.
Not illusion.
Not magic.
Just certainty.
He smiled.
"I don't need to be my parents," he whispered. "I'll be someone new."
---
Meanwhile, Lucien sat in the upper halls, gazing at the moon through stained glass.
His Proficiency Panel ticked upward.
> Shadow Sword – Form III: Shadow Mirage – Lv. 4 [Developmental]
Integration: 39%
More than numbers. More than a technique.
Lucien leaned back and closed his eyes.
"I wonder…" he murmured to the silent air, "how far we can take this?"
Because deep down, he knew—
Shadow Sword was not just a style.
It was a path.
And Elric had taken his next step.