CHAPTER 111: SHADOW~

Dozens of tendrils extended out from Razeal’s shadow, stretching out beneath him with more weight, strength, and brilliance than ever before. They didn’t look like some hazy, fragile thing anymore this shadow felt alive. Solid. Responsive. Ready.

And as if reading his thoughts, they moved before he could command. A thin, dark platform formed just under his boots, lifting him from the icy ground. Then, like a sudden gust of wind silent, fast, and fluid it carried him swiftly to the right, skimming just centemers above the frozen surface.

But it didn’t stop there.

The tendrils continued stretching outward, longer, broader rising high like roots reversed, becoming a scaffold beneath him. Before Razeal could process it, he was standing on a platform almost twenty-five feet above the ground, held steady in midair by snaking shadow tendrils that connected all the way down to his reflection on the fractured ice below. They moved with precision, wrapping and adjusting to keep his elevation stable as the whole construct adjusted to the chaos below.

BOOOOOOOM!

The ground where Razeal had been standing not seconds ago exploded with force as Glaciermight’s punch slammed into the earth. The impact sent shockwaves in every direction, and the seventeen hundred years ice floor frozen solid for over shattered like glass, sending shards and massive chunks flying outward, In an instant, a massive crater was carved into the ground wide, deep, jagged. It looked like a meteor had struck.

Yet the shadow tendrils that had sprouted from that same location? They reacted instantly.

The moment the punch struck them, they rippled violently like thick bamboo reeds hit with a hammer. But instead of snapping or vibrating up to Razeal, the shadows adapted. More tendrils shot outward, lengthening and reinforcing the structure, balancing it midair like a self-adjusting suspension system. The base tendrils slid deeper into the crater, extending like anchor roots. No shake. No tilt. Razeal didn’t even feel a single jolt.

He looked down at his feet.

A thin, inky platform shimmered beneath him barely visible, yet fully solid. It held him as if gravity was just a suggestion. It wasn’t like his old hoverboard. No, this was better.

"This is... nuts," he muttered, eyes wide. "It’s like I’m flying."

And he was. This was freedom in combat form.

What impressed him most wasn’t just the maneuvering or balance it was how intuitive the entire thing was. Every move the shadow made, every curve or contraction, had been guided by just his thoughts. He hadn’t worked out any calculations or logic. He’d simply imagined it.

Take me up.

Make it solid.

Be flexible. Withstand force.

That’s all. And the shadow had obeyed perfectly.

Even when the punch struck with enough force to destroy concrete bunkers, the shadow didn’t shatter. It didn’t even crack. It flexed, it adapted it rippled, yes but that was it. No break. No collapse. Just silent obedience.

Razeal grinned. "Shadow manipulation, huh? This is way better than I expected."

He was feeling fast and protected.

And now, it was his move.

Then

Without hesitation, Razeal raised his sword, its blade shimmering faintly with contained pressure. His eyes closed for a heartbeat, steadying his breath as the familiar hum of tectonic flow returned subtle but massive, like the distant groan of mountains shifting under earth.

He felt it.

"Tectonic Slash," he whispered, more to the sword than to himself.

The platform of shadow beneath his feet rose silently, carrying him to the height of Glaciermight’s elbow. From there, the sheer scale of the beast became even more surreal. The arm before him was a mountain in itself easily thicker than five of Razeal stacked side by side. Compared to it, his sword was nothing more than a sliver of metal barely the width of a single hair from the creature’s snowy coat.

Still, he swung.

The sword didn’t move fast or violently. It moved with precision. With synchronization. As it cut downward in a perfect arc, Glaciermight instinctively reacted, covering its entire arm with thick, glimmering ice an armor of magical frost. But it didn’t matter.

The moment the blade met the giant’s forearm, there was no resistance.

The sword passed through flesh, bone, and enchanted ice as if they didn’t exist. A clean line formed in its wake, and then..

CRACK.

A massive gust of wind followed, a shockwave from the force of the slash that left a deep trench extending hundred meters into the ice floor. For a split second, silence.

Then

THUD!

Glaciermight’s severed arm crashed to the ground, sending up a tremor as sharp as a minor earthquake. The monster let out a guttural, piercing roar that echoed across the frozen wasteland.

But Razeal didn’t flinch. He didn’t even smile. His arm, the one that had delivered the slash, was already disintegrating skin vaporized, muscle stripped away, revealing obsidian-black bone underneath.

"Fuck, again? Arghhhh!" he yelled, frustrated.

Sigh. Honestly, he wasn’t dissatisfied with the power of the slash at all. Nope, not at all. Honestly, he could feel it if he had swung it at the stomach or chest of this monster, he could’ve cut it right down the middle. A whale size monster cut in middle like butter But then again... that would be a very painless death. Right?

This fellow deserves more.

Still, he stood.

"I’ve got a fun idea," he muttered to himself, flexing what was left of his skeletal hand.

Instead of waiting for regeneration which was still slow, even at B-rank healing he shifted focus. He had more tools now. More weapons.

His shadow.

He gave the mental command, and instantly, dozens of tendrils burst from the shadow cast beneath his feet. They surged forward like a wave of liquid black steel, slick and glossy, but thicker this time stronger, more alive.

They didn’t just lash out. They formed around him, spiraling upward and outward like a blossoming tree. Then they extended toward Glaciermight’s legs. At first, they appeared like elegant wisps thin, slithering, almost gentle. But they thickened rapidly, two feet wide now, coiling and wrapping like monstrous serpents made of ink and gravity.

To any observer, they looked like threads of hair trying to bind a mountain. But they were much more than that.

Still, Razeal frowned.

"Space... it’s too narrow," he muttered. "I need more surface."

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This Chapter was so fucked up, I swear... well, not the writing itself, but because I had written like half of it, and when did I go back by mistake? When I refreshed by mistake, it all got deleted. I was so fucked up, and I wrote this Chapter filled with annoyance.

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