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Re:ゼロから始める異世界生活 | Re:Zero Starting Life in Another World (Anime)陰の実力者になりたくて! | The Eminence in Shadow (Anime)陰の実力者になりたくて! | The Eminence in Shadow - Aizawa Daisuke (Light Novels)
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Emilia/Natsuki SubaruBeta & Cid KagenouAlpha & Cid KagenouGamma & Cid KagenouNatsuki Subaru/RemBeatrice & Natsuki SubaruNatsuki Subaru/SatellaEmilia & Natsuki SubaruNatsuki Subaru & RamEmilia & Puck (Re:Zero)Reinhard van Astrea & Natsuki SubaruReinhard van Astrea & FeltFelix Argyle | Ferris & Reinhard Van Astrea & Julius Juukulius | Julius EucliusNatsuki Subaru & Otto SuwenRam & Rem (Re:Zero)Crusch Karsten/Fourier LugnicaTheresia van Astrea/Wilhelm van AstreaReinhard Van Astrea & Wilhelm Van AstreaPetra Leyte & Natsuki SubaruFelix Argyle | Ferris & Natsuki SubaruDelta/Cid KagenouDelta & Cid KagenouRam/Cid KagenouPriscilla Barielle & Cid KagenouNatsuki Subaru & Cid Kagenou
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Natsuki SubaruCid KagenouAlpha (Eminence in Shadow)Delta (Eminence in Shadow)Beta (Eminence in Shadow)Gamma (Eminence in Shadow)Emilia (Re:Zero)Rem (Re:Zero)Ram (Re:Zero)Petra LeytePetelgeuse Romanée-ContiReinhard van AstreaRoswaal L MathersSatella (Re:Zero)Otto SuwenFourier LugnicaPuck (Re:Zero)Felix Argyle | FerrisFelt (Re:Zero)Wilhelm van AstreaTheresia van AstreaAnastasia HoshinPriscilla BarielleCrusch KarstenJulius Juukulius | Julius EucliusAldebaran | Al (Re:Zero)Sphinx (Re:Zero)Echidna the Witch (Re:Zero)Pandora (Re:Zero)Regulus CorneasBeatrice (Re:Zero)Volcanica (Re:Zero)Stride Vollachia
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Isekai and TransmigrationCrossoverCrossover PairingsTime TravelSecond ChancesDestructionCanonical Character DeathTemporary Character DeathCharacter DeathTime LoopDeveloping Relationship
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Published:2025-02-14Updated:2025-11-19Words:231,628Chapters:37/?Comments:1,433Kudos:1,431Bookmarks:159Hits:66,071
Re: Zero Shadow's Legacy
TheLostOrion
Chapter 4: The Sword Saint and the Shadow
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Darkness was his domain. It stretched before him, vast and endless, shifting like a living thing beneath his feet. The void did not frighten him—it embraced him, whispered to him, swayed at his command.
He emerged without sound, stepping from the void into the mortal world. The air itself recoiled at his presence, the warmth around him bleeding into cold. Candlelight trembled. The weight of his existence settled into the space, unseen yet undeniable.
And there, upon his throne, sat the king. Randohal Lugunica, a man of power, wisdom, and lineage—yet even he was bound by the chains of mortality. Shadow could see it, the faint hesitation in his breath, the flicker of recognition in his crimson eyes.
Ah, yes. Fear.
Not the kind that sent men screaming, but the deeper kind—the understanding that something greater had stepped beyond the veil. A force unchained.
Randohal's throat tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught, tangled in the web of his own unease. His voice, usually commanding and regal, faltered. "You… what is it that you seek here?" he managed, the question trembling on his lips. His fingers gripped the arms of his throne, knuckles whitening.
Before Shadow could respond, a thunderous growl erupted from the side of the room. Bordeaux surged to his feet, his massive axe gleaming in the trembling candlelight. His face was a mask of fury, his pride wounded by the audacity of this intruder.
"How dare you!" Bordeaux bellowed, his voice echoing like a war drum. "You think you can waltz into the throne room of Lugunica and demand an audience with the king? I'll cut you down where you stand!"
Shadow tilted his head as if regarding something insignificant. And then—he moved.
No, that wasn't quite right. He did not step, nor did he vanish. He simply was.
One moment, Bordeaux stood tall, defiant. The next—his breath hitched, his grip on his axe trembling as cold fingers of dread wrapped around his soul. His body is locked in place. His heart pounded like a war drum, a deep, primal terror coiling in his gut.
A shadow tendril slithered up his axe, and with a soft, almost amused motion, Shadow flicked a finger.
The axe—Bordeaux's cherished weapon, the very extension of his strength—shattered.
Fragments of steel clattered against the marble floor. The room, once heavy with Bordeaux's bravado, now hung in silence, thick with disbelief.
Randohal's breath halted. Miklotov, who had remained still, exhaled sharply, his hand freezing in hesitation.
Shadow slowly turned his gaze back to the king, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. The darkness around him pulsed like a living heart, an endless abyss lurking just beneath the veil of reality.
"Surely," Shadow murmured, his voice smooth yet carrying the weight of inevitability.
"You must know why I'm here."
Shadow remained motionless, the air around him thick with the scent of apprehension.
I definitely struck them as an evil entity. The ominous entrance, the shattered weapon, the looming presence—it all worked perfectly. Now all the king has to do is hand over the gold and riches, and off I go in a cool flair.
Randohal's grip on the throne's arms tightened further. He straightened his posture, a measure of his composure returning, though his voice was still edged with unease.
"If you have come seeking retribution, then name your grievance. If you seek blood, then name your foe. But if you have come for something else, state your demands, and let us see if peace can be brokered."
Shadow barely suppressed a sigh.
He thinks this is about vengeance, or war, or some grand scheme. How tedious.
He glanced at the heavy-set vault doors at the side of the throne room.
Imagine the legend of it—an enigmatic figure breaks through the defences of the Royal Palace, stands before the king, makes his demand, takes the wealth, and vanishes into the night. Never seen again, a spectre spoken of in hushed whispers. That would be legendary.
He turned his gaze back to Randohal, the abyssal tendrils of his presence shifting, restless.
"You misunderstand," Shadow murmured, his voice laced with something unreadable. He lifted his hand ever so slightly, and the room dimmed further, as though reality itself recoiled from his command. "My purpose is neither war nor retribution. I am not here to negotiate with swords or treaties."
He took a step forward, and the entire room seemed to shrink beneath the sheer gravity of his presence. His shadow stretched unnaturally, devouring the space between him and the throne.
"What I require… is simple."
The candles wavered. The breath of every soul present turned shallow.
Silence reigned.
The grand doors to the throne room burst open with a deafening crash.
Shadow's instincts screamed.
He's fast.
Before he could react, a force like a meteor struck his side. A devastating kick slammed into him, sending him hurtling across the polished marble floor. He twisted mid-air, landing in a controlled skid. His boots screeched against the floor, stopping just before the edge of the grand hall. A low chuckle escaped his lips, dark and amused, as he straightened.
Shadow exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the impact.
"Interesting," Shadow murmured, his voice a silken whisper laced with menace. He lifted his hand, brushing a stray speck of dust from his coat. "You move like lightning, yet strike like thunder. But tell me—" his lips curved into a faint smirk, "—was that supposed to hurt?"
The intruder stood tall, his presence alone shifting the atmosphere of the room. His crimson hair caught the flickering candlelight, and his piercing blue eyes carried the weight of absolute certainty. Clad in the signature armour of the kingdom's finest warrior, he radiated an aura of overwhelming strength.
He turned to the king, offering a slight bow. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I arrived later than intended. Are you unharmed?"
Randohal exhaled, his knuckles still pale against the throne's armrests. He nodded, though his expression remained grave. "I am fine, Reinhard. But be warned—this foe is no ordinary intruder."
Reinhard's sharp gaze locked onto Shadow. His blue eyes, like twin shards of ice, studied him for the briefest moment—before widening ever so slightly in recognition.
This presence… There's no mistaking it.
A memory from the previous night surfaced in his mind—whispered words from Cid, his voice laced with urgency.
This is him.
The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the throne room as Reinhard straightened his posture, his movements fluid and controlled. He exhaled slowly before speaking, his voice steady, unwavering.
"I am Reinhard van Astrea, Sword Saint of Lugunica," he announced, his tone carrying the weight of both duty and challenge. "State your name."
Shadow regarded him for a moment, his crimson eyes gleaming like dying embers in the dark.
"A name, is it?" Shadow mused, his voice smooth as silk yet carrying an undeniable edge. "Names are shackles, tying men to their pasts, to their destinies. But if you must call me something—"
He took a step forward, his presence swallowing the space between them, his silhouette barely illuminated by the trembling candlelight.
"Shadow."
Reinhard's expression remained impassive, but a glint of intrigue flickered beneath the surface. He had encountered many foes—warriors, beasts. Yet this man carried something different. Something unnatural.
"I've never heard of you," Reinhard stated plainly.
Shadow let out a quiet chuckle, low and dark, as if amused by the very idea.
"Then history has done its job well," he murmured, his smirk barely visible beneath the dim glow of the room. "And you? You carry the title of 'Sword Saint,' yet even saints can bleed, can they not?"
His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword, a movement so fluid, so effortless, it was as though the blade itself answered his call. The blade gleamed with an eerie sheen, reflecting the dim candlelight like a sliver of the abyss itself.
Slowly, deliberately, he strode forward.
His steps echoed through the grand hall, each footfall measured, unhurried. The weight of his presence pressed against the walls against the air itself. As he passed near Miklotov and Bordeaux, neither moved.
Shadow did not acknowledge them. They were already ghosts in his mind, their defiance a footnote in the symphony of his arrival.
All that mattered was the man standing before him.
Reinhard.
Whoah, I did not expect the Hero to appear this fast,
He mused inwardly, his eyes flickering with cold calculation.
But then again, I suppose it had to be expected, didn't it?
His fingers traced the edge of his coat, a subtle gesture that betrayed no sign of panic or hesitation.
I'd hoped to clash with him later—when the timing suited me better when the shadows had more room to move... But still,
He thought, his smirk deepening,
This scenario is far too good for me to simply flee.
And then, in a voice that was velvet and venom all at once, Shadow spoke—his words a dark lullaby in the cold, echoing silence.
"Shall we begin?"
Reinhard lunged at Shadow with the speed of a lightning strike, his movements a blur even to the keenest of eyes. His fist, crackling with raw energy, shot forward like a cannonball, aimed squarely at Shadow's chest.
Shadow's crimson eyes flickered with amusement as he observed Reinhard's approach.
No sword, huh?
He mused inwardly, his smirk deepening.
Does he value that blade on his back so much, or is he underestimating me?
The thought was almost insulting, but Shadow found it more entertaining than anything else.
With a flick of his wrist, the sword he had been holding dissolved into darkness, vanishing as though it had never existed.
In the same motion, Shadow raised his arm, his movements fluid and precise. Reinhard's fist collided with Shadow's forearm, the impact sending a shockwave through the throne room. The force of the blow pushed Shadow back a few feet, his boots skidding across the polished marble floor.
But Shadow's grin never wavered. If anything, it grew wider, more sinister.
"Impressive," Shadow murmured, his voice a silken whisper that carried an edge of menace. "But let's see how you handle this."
With a fluid motion, Shadow twisted his body, his free hand snapping forward in a precise strike. His movements were elegant, almost poetic. The strike was aimed at Reinhard's midsection, a blow designed to incapacitate, to dominate.
But it never landed.
Reinhard's body shifted with impossible grace, his form blurring as he evaded the strike by a hair's breadth.
Before Shadow could react, Reinhard countered, his fist surging forward once more, this time aimed at Shadow's chest. Shadow's eyes widened ever so slightly as he leaned back, the punch grazing the fabric of his coat. The force of the near-miss sent a ripple through the air, and Shadow's smirk faltered for the briefest of moments.
That hit… it couldn't have missed,
Shadow thought, his mind racing even as his body moved on instinct.
Even with just a fraction of my strength, it should have connected. What is this?
He didn't have time to dwell on it. Reinhard was already pressing the attack, his movements a relentless storm of precision and power. Each strike was calculated, each step deliberate, as though he were weaving a tapestry of combat.
Shadow dodged and weaved, his movements fluid and unhurried, but there was a new edge to his demeanour now—a flicker of curiosity, of intrigue.
This man… he's not like the others,
Shadow realized, his grin returning, sharper, and more dangerous than before.
He's not just strong. He's perfect.
As Reinhard's next strike came, Shadow didn't dodge. Instead, he met it head-on, his hand snapping up to catch Reinhard's wrist. The impact sent another shockwave through the room, the force of it rattling the chandeliers and sending the candlelight flickering wildly. Shadow's grip was like iron, unyielding, and cold.
"You're good," Shadow admitted, his voice a low purr. "But let's see how you handle this."
With a sudden burst of speed, Shadow twisted Reinhard's arm, using his own momentum against him. Reinhard's eyes widened as he was forced into a spin, but he recovered almost instantly, his free hand lashing out in a counterstrike.
Shadow ducked beneath it, his movements a blur of darkness and precision. He retaliated with a sweeping kick, aiming to knock Reinhard off balance, but once again, the Sword Saint evaded with almost supernatural ease.
Is it just me, or is this guy draining my mana like crazy?
And then, what would happen if, instead of dealing with grains of salt, he had to handle solid bricks?
The two combatants circled each other, the air between them crackling with tension. Shadow's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and anticipation. Reinhard, for his part, remained calm, his expression one of focused determination.
"You're holding back," Reinhard observed, his voice steady. "Why?"
Shadow chuckled, the sound dark and velvety. "Holding back? Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm simply savouring the moment. After all, it's not every day I get to dance with a saint."
Randohal's voice thundered across the throne room, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Reinhard! You must realize the grave danger this man possesses! Do not underestimate him!"
Reinhard's eyes flicked toward the king, his expression calm but attentive. He gave a slight nod, his demeanour shifting subtly as he absorbed the weight of Randohal's words. "My apologies, Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady but laced with newfound resolve. "I will not falter again."
With a fluid motion, Reinhard extended his hand toward one of the royal guards. The guard, understanding the unspoken command, tossed his sword to the Sword Saint.
Reinhard caught it effortlessly, his fingers wrapping around the hilt as if it were an extension of his own body. The blade shimmered as he poured his mana into it, the steel glowing with a radiant, otherworldly light.
"I am the Sword Saint of Lugunica," Reinhard declared, his voice steady and resolute. "And I will not allow you to threaten this kingdom."
Shadow tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "A sword, is it? How quaint."
With a flick of his wrist, a dark, slimy substance oozed from the shadows at his feet, coalescing into a blade of pure darkness. Shadow twirled it lazily in his hand, his smirk widening.
"Let's see if your light can pierce my darkness," Shadow taunted, his voice smooth and dripping with menace.
Reinhard didn't respond with words. Instead, he lunged forward, his movements a blur of speed and precision. The distance between them vanished in an instant, and with a powerful swing, his blade clashed against Shadow's. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the throne room, shattering windows, and sending debris flying.
But Reinhard didn't stop there. With a sudden burst of strength, he pivoted and delivered a devastating kick to Shadow's midsection. The force of the blow sent Shadow hurtling backwards, crashing through the grand doors of the throne room and into the open sky beyond. The night air swallowed him as he soared through the air, his coat billowing like the wings of a dark spectre.
As Shadow soared through the air, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "He's gotten even faster," he muttered, his voice tinged with both annoyance and admiration. "How delightful."
With a graceful twist, Shadow righted himself mid-air, his dark coat billowing around him as he hovered above the palace grounds.
But his amusement was short-lived. Reinhard emerged from the palace, his body glowing with a faint, celestial light as he too floated into the air. The Sword Saint's expression was calm, but his eyes burned with determination.
Shadow's grin widened. "I know you're holding back," he said, his voice carrying a note of intrigue. "But the way you grow stronger—as if with a mere thought—it's unnatural at best. Care to enlighten me?"
"I have been blessed," Reinhard admitted, his voice carrying over the wind with a quiet certainty. "Divine Blessings grant me strength beyond human limitations. They manifest as abilities suited for the needs of the moment, ensuring I never falter."
Shadow's eyes flickered, and the amusement in them dimming as irritation took its place. He let out a slow breath, the sound more akin to a sigh of exasperation than exhaustion. "Divine Blessings," he echoed, his voice laced with something colder now—something resentful. "Of course. The perfect gift for the perfect hero."
Reinhard remained silent, watching as Shadow's fingers curled into fists. There was no longer the relaxed grace he had carried before, no longer the nonchalant smirk.
Shadow chuckled, but there was no humour in it. "The villain spends all his life meticulously planning, training, growing stronger. It's not just about the goal. It's about the determination—the unyielding will to carve his own path, to fight against fate itself."
His voice was rising now, the controlled silkiness giving way to something far more visceral. "And then there's always the hero. The one who needs just a few months—no, a few weeks—to overcome all of it. Hard work? No. Dedication? Nothing but a flute, played at the whims of fate."
Shadow lifted a hand, covering his eyes for a moment, as if in mock reverence. "And then the hero would say… he got stronger because he 'had it rough.'"
Reinhard's grip on his sword tightened slightly. "What are you trying to say?"
Shadow slowly lowered his hand, his crimson eyes burning like dying embers. "What I'm saying," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of something far beyond anger, "is that I refuse to be another forgotten story."
The night sky became a canvas of chaos and brilliance, streaked with flashes of silver and black. Shadow and Reinhard moved at speeds no mortal eye could follow, their blades clashing in a relentless storm.
Each impact birthed an explosion of light and darkness, shockwaves ripping through the air, rattling the palace foundations. The sound echoed across the city—a series of thunderous booms that illuminated the heavens like a festival of stars.
From the streets below, the people of Lugunica turned their eyes skyward, their faces filled with awe. Children clapped their hands in delight, pointing excitedly.
"Look! Fireworks!" one child exclaimed, their laughter ringing through the night.
Another gasped, tugging at their mother's sleeve. "Mama, can we stay up and watch?"
Unaware of the battle raging above them, the people saw only beauty—blinding flares of gold and crimson, streaks of violet, and obsidian tearing through the sky like divine brushstrokes
Shadow, mid-swing, caught the flicker of joy in the eyes of those far beneath him. His smirk deepened.
How poetic.
A world so fragile, so blissfully ignorant, celebrating the battle that could decide their fate.
With a final clash, they broke apart, each hovering in the air, staring at the other. Shadow's grin had returned, sharp as a razor's edge. His eyes gleamed with something deeper than mere amusement.
Shadow twirled his weapon between his fingers, his movements deliberate, slow. "Your form is immaculate," he continued, voice rich with intrigue. "Not a single wasted movement. Each step, each strike, measured to perfection." His crimson eyes narrowed, studying Reinhard with something almost akin to fascination. "You don't fight with arrogance, nor do you fight with hesitation. You are…"
The word lingered in the cold air before Shadow exhaled, his smirk darkening. "Complete."
Reinhard gave a small nod, neither accepting the praise nor rejecting it.
Shadow's fingers drummed against the hilt of his sword. "But that's what makes it all the more ironic."
Crack.
A faint sound.
A whisper of breaking steel.
Reinhard's sword, the one he had been given moments ago, fractured along its edge. Fine cracks spiderwebbed through the blade, glowing faintly under the pressure of their battle. And then, with a final snap, the weapon shattered, shards of silver cascading into the night.
Shadow tilted his head, his amusement unshaken. "Ah."
Reinhard exhaled, his grip on the now-useless hilt relaxing.
Shadow's gaze drifted to the sword still strapped to Reinhard's back—the one he had never drawn. His smirk deepened. "So… why not use that?"
Reinhard met his gaze, unshaken. "Because I do not seek destruction."
The words were spoken with quiet certainty, yet they carried a weight heavier than steel.
Shadow raised a brow, waiting.
Reinhard continued, his voice steady. "Unlike you, I prioritize people first."
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
A chuckle. Low, quiet, but unmistakably dark.
Shadow let his sword rest upon his shoulder, his grin widening. "And here I thought you were flawless."
He took a step forward, his presence swallowing the light around him. "But that answer?" His eyes burned with something unreadable. "That answer… is riddled with weakness."
Reinhard remained still.
Shadow's gaze lingered on the shattered remnants of Reinhard's sword, his expression unreadable. And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his own blade—its edge gleaming with endless, abyssal hunger.
"Let's see," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "how long you can afford to hold back."
And then—
Shadow was gone.
Not a blur, not a flicker—just gone.
Reinhard's eyes widened, his instincts flaring. He didn't hesitate.
"Divine Blessing—Revealing Gaze!"
The world around him sharpened in an instant, details flooding his vision—every movement, every breath, every shift in the air. His gaze snapped downward.
And there, among the oblivious crowd below, Shadow stood.
Perfectly still.
Perfectly unnoticed.
His smirk was razor-sharp, his crimson eyes gleaming with something dark—something that mocked.
"Are you afraid you'll break your principles, Hero?"
His voice was soft, but it cut.
Then, with an almost lazy motion, he swung his sword—straight for a man who had been laughing just moments before, oblivious to the danger.
Reinhard moved before thought could form.
A blur of light. A streak of steel.
Clang!
The sound rang out as Reinhard's blade caught Shadow's mere inches from the man's neck. The impact sent a sharp wind rippling through the street, ruffling coats and hair. The people turned, startled, but still unaware of the battle unfolding right beside them.
Shadow's grin deepened.
"See?" he murmured, voice laced with amusement. "Predictable."
Reinhard's expression remained calm, but his grip on his sword tightened.
Shadow's voice was velvet and venom, weaving through the air like a dark melody.
"You heroes... always bound by your principles. Always chained by your own morality."
He twisted his blade, pushing against Reinhard's defence, forcing him to shift his stance.
"Always predictable."
Then, he moved.
A shadow among the crowd.
The fight resumed in an instant, but it was unlike any before. Reinhard wasn't just fighting Shadow—he was fighting to protect. Every strike had to be measured, every movement precise. The civilians around them were blind to the battle, yet they were pieces on the board.
And Shadow?
He weaved through them like a spectre, his blade slashing through the air, forcing Reinhard to block, dodge, maneuver—always reacting, never taking the lead.
"The villain," Shadow continued between blows, "sees right through the hero's weakness."
A swing. A dodge. A near-miss.
"He knows the hero won't hurt the innocent."
A blade gliding past a woman's shoulder. Reinhard intercepts at the last second, forcing his footing to shift.
"So what does he do?"
Shadow's smirk turned wicked, his next strike forcing Reinhard back further into the crowd.
"He doesn't use it."
Another clash. Another shockwave of power restrained.
"He just mock the hero."
A flicker—Shadow appeared just behind a child, his blade at his side, nonchalant. Reinhard's breath hitched, his movements halting.
"He wants to amuse himself."
Their eyes met.
And then, Reinhard moved.
Faster than sound. Faster than thought.
Their swords met in an explosive burst of force, sending ripples through the night. The people flinched at the sudden gusts of wind but remained blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding inches from them.
And for the first time—Shadow's smirk faded, if only slightly.
His gaze locked onto Reinhard, something unreadable in his crimson eyes.
Then—he laughed. Low. Dark.
And as their swords clashed once more, his voice dipped into something colder.
"And that," he murmured, "irritates me too."
His blade pressed down against Reinhard's, their gazes locked in a silent war of wills.
"That's why," Shadow whispered, his grin returning, sharper than ever, "I am neither a hero nor a villain."
Reinhard's expression remained unreadable, but his voice carried weight.
"Then what are you?"
A flicker—Shadow was gone again.
No blur. No motion. Just—disappearance.
Then—he was behind another man.
A step. Another. Moving seamlessly between people, always in Reinhard's sight, yet impossible to reach without endangering those around him.
Circling him.
A predator weaving through prey.
The night air grew heavy.
And then—
His voice.
Low. Smooth. Unshaken.
"I am Shadow."
Reinhard's eyes burned with resolve. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, his stance firm despite the chaos around them.
"I won't let you get away with this," Reinhard declared, his voice cutting through the night like a blade.
Without hesitation, he called upon another Divine Blessing.
"Divine Blessing—Sanctuary's Domain."
A brilliant light erupted from his form, expanding outward in a radiant wave. It surged through the streets, wrapping around every civilian, gently pushing them back with an unseen force. The people blinked in confusion as they found themselves inexplicably retreating, as though an invisible wall had guided them away. In mere moments, the battlefield was cleared—leaving only Reinhard and Shadow standing amidst the now-empty street.
Shadow tilted his head, his smirk unwavering. "How convenient."
Reinhard didn't waste a second. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance. His sword gleamed with celestial energy as he swung downward, the sheer force of his strike splitting the very air.
"It's over."
But just as the blade was about to connect—
Shadow grinned.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised a single finger—pointing it at Reinhard's head.
And then—Reinhard felt it.
An ominous mana unlike anything he had ever encountered.
It was wrong.
It did not belong to this world. It did not belong to any magic he had ever faced. Even Od Lagna—the divine force that governed fate itself—had no recognition of this power.
Shadow's smirk deepened.
A small beam of pure darkness shot from his fingertip.
Reinhard's body screamed at him to move.
Yet—for the first time—
He couldn't dodge it.
A thin line of red trailed down his cheek, a single droplet of blood tracing its path through the air before vanishing into the night.
Silence.
Reinhard's breath remained steady, but his heart, for the first time in countless battles, hesitated.
His body had moved on instinct, had relied on the absolute certainty that no attack—no strike, no spell—could ever truly touch him. His Divine Blessings had always ensured it.
But this—
This was something else.
Shadow's grin widened, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he slowly lowered his hand, smoke still curling from the tip of his finger.
"Well," Shadow murmured, his voice a dark melody laced with something deeper than amusement. "Would you look at that?"
Reinhard's grip on his sword tightened, his mind racing.
That attack—
It bypassed his Divine Blessings.
Not because it was fast. Not because it was strong.
But because it was outside the realm of what Od Lagna—the force that had blessed him—could comprehend.
"Impossible," Reinhard said, his voice quiet but firm.
Reinhard's gaze remained locked onto him. He knew better than to react emotionally.
Od Lagna, the will of the world, the source of his endless blessings, had not foreseen this.
This attack… it did not belong.
Shadow exhaled, slow and deliberate. He lifted his hand once more, his fingers lazily pointing at Reinhard's chest. "So, what happens now, Hero?"
The tension in the air grew unbearable.
For the first time in his life, Reinhard felt something close to uncertainty.
Reinhard's breath was steady, but his body remained tense, every fibre of his being on high alert. Shadow stood before him, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
Then—Shadow moved.
Or rather, he ceased to exist.
No blur of motion. No fading into the darkness. One moment, he was standing there, and the next—nothing.
Reinhard's eyes widened slightly as he scanned the area, his grip tightening on his sword. His instincts screamed at him, but his senses found nothing.
Where?
His Divine Blessings sharpened his perception, letting him feel the mana in the air, but when he reached out to track Shadow—
His heart skipped a beat.
Shadow's mana wasn't just gone.
It was everywhere.
Not in a way that meant he was hiding in the city—no, it was as if his very essence had diffused, stretching across every corner of the capital, touching every street, every rooftop, every shadow.
Impossible.
Even the greatest mages in history couldn't achieve something like this.
Then, just as he was about to shift his stance—
A whisper.
Low. Smooth. Unshaken.
Right by his ear.
"You felt it, didn't you, Hero?"
Reinhard turned sharply, sword ready—
But there was nothing.
And then—his mana was gone.
Completely.
No trace. No lingering presence.
Nothing left to follow.
The world that had felt frozen in the heat of battle suddenly resumed its natural flow. The distant sound of carriages, the murmurs of the people, the cold wind brushing against his skin—it all came rushing back.
Reinhard exhaled slowly, lowering his sword but not loosening his grip.
"...Tch."
For the first time in a long while, he remained wary, eyes scanning the empty streets.
A true enigma.
A threat unlike any other.
Shadow was gone.
For now.
Later on...
Cid sat atop a massive boulder, gazing at the night sky. The faint glow of the city lights flickered in the distance, but out here, away from the crowds, the stars reigned supreme.
A breath.
Then—a smirk.
"Man... that was awesome."
He let himself fall back, lying atop the boulder with his hands behind his head, his expression full of satisfaction.
"I'd give my performance a solid 9.9 out of 10." His smirk deepened as he stared at the sky. "Because there's always room for more."
For a moment, he simply lay there, letting the thrill linger.
Then—his mind wandered back to him.
"...Reinhard, was it?"
His fingers tapped idly against the cold stone as he replayed their battle in his head.
"He was definitely capable of making me feel it," he muttered, a rare glint flashing through his eyes. "The adrenaline... the thrill. That's quite rare for me."
"But his presence alone..."
His fingers curled into a fist.
"...was draining a lot of my mana."
Had they fought at full power, things would've gone differently.
"I could've used my final moves three times over with the amount of mana he was pulling from me." A small chuckle escaped his lips. "Good thing we resorted to just swordsmanship."
He sat up, stretching his arms.
"I wonder how things would go if we both didn't hold back."
The thought was enticing. Dangerous.
Exciting.
But—
"That's a matter for another time."
He hopped off the boulder, landing silently on the grass below. Then, in a voice as cold as the night air—
"Come forth, Alpha."
Silence.
His expression twitched.
"...Huh?"
Still nothing.
Cid's brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the surroundings. Normally, at least one of them—Alpha, Beta, someone—would be lurking in the shadows, keeping an eye on him.
But now?
Not a trace.
"They're always around," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "One of them would definitely be stalking me right now..."
A pause.
Then—a spark of realization.
A grin spread across his face as he snapped his fingers.
"Let's try that."
His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
He entered his high-speed perception state, and the world slowed around him. Every detail became crystal clear—the wind moving in slow waves, the distant flicker of torches stretching like liquid fire.
And then—he got to work.
A portal.
No, portals.
He traced the concept in his mind, remembering the one that had brought him here. He wove the mana carefully, testing, adjusting.
"Too small."
The first portal flickered weakly before vanishing.
"This one looks fishy."
Another one appeared, swirling erratically, unstable. He dispelled it.
"This one looks ominous."
A third. Dark. Unsettling. Even he didn't want to step into that one.
Then—
His smirk returned.
"This one."
The portal stabilized, swirling like liquid void, perfectly balanced.
Cid stepped forward, reaching out toward the abyss with a gleam in his eyes.
"Now then…"
What lay beyond?
It was time to find out.
Beyond the portal...
As Cid stepped out of the portal, his boots landed on plush red carpet. The air was thick with a scent of aged wood and exotic incense. A grand chandelier cast a golden glow over the luxurious chamber, its high walls adorned with intricate paintings and deep crimson drapes.
A soft, melancholic melody filled the room. His sharp gaze flicked toward the source—a woman standing gracefully near the fireplace, playing the violin with effortless elegance.
Cid scratched his head. "Huh. This ain't my place… but it sure looks nice."
His gaze drifted to the far end of a long table, where a man sat eating.
Slender, yet exuding an undeniable presence, the man possessed piercing grey eyes—cold, calculating. His long, deep-purple hair shimmered like silk as he lifted a glass of red wine to his lips. The way he moved, so poised, so controlled, sent a faint chill down Cid's spine.
Cid was in the wrong place.
"Uh… my bad," he said, raising his hands in a casual manner. "I was just passing by. Didn't mean to—"
A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Cid turned his head slightly, only to be met with the sight of a towering figure.
A giant.
Eight arms. Blue skin. Black, soulless eyes that gave off the impression of a vengeful demon.
The grip tightened.
"Sit."
With a single push, Cid was forced into a seat at the long table, directly across from the purple-haired man.
The man slowly raised his hand—each finger adorned with an exquisite ring.
And in that instant, the violin ceased.
Silence fell.
The giant's voice was cold. Absolute.
"You are in the presence of His Excellency."
A pause.
"Stride Vollachia."
Notes:
Looks like Cid fumbled again and hit the rewind button lol.
Anyway, if you're confused about the Shadow vs. Reinhard, fight or just wanna share your thoughts, drop a comment!
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