CHAPTER 92: SHADOW.

Two minutes, fifty-eight seconds.

The chamber remained silent, its walls unchanged by any confirming glow. Lia stood motionless inside, holding the slate she had chosen with growing desperation as the seconds ticked by.

The time limit expired with a soft chime.

"Selection incorrect," the witch announced with clinical detachment. "Please exit the chamber."

Lia emerged with water gathering in her eyes, but she brushed it away angrily before anyone could offer sympathy. Her usual bright enthusiasm had been replaced by frustrated disappointment that she was clearly struggling to contain.

"Return to the arena stands," the witch instructed with surprising gentleness. "Your academy journey continues, though perhaps not as originally planned."

As Lia walked past the successful candidates area, Ren felt a surge of shock and disappointment that surprised him with its intensity. He had shared living quarters with her for weeks, witnessed her dedication and natural talent, seen how much advancement to the inner academy meant to her dreams of magical excellence.

But then he remembered the consolation that would soften this blow. Lia had already secured guaranteed entry into the special advanced class through her previous trial performances. While she wouldn’t advance to the elite inner circles immediately, her future remained bright with opportunities that most prospectives could only dream of achieving.

Ren forced himself to remain calm as the selection process continued. The witch called name after name, and the pattern of success and failure began revealing the brutal mathematics of the memory test.

"Cassius of Block A." Success after two minutes, forty-one seconds.

"Morgana of Block A." Failure after choosing incorrectly between two similar patterns.

"Darius of Block B." Success with only three seconds remaining.

"Helena of Block C." Failure after time expiration while still comparing options.

The process continued with mechanical precision, but the witch’s calling order was becoming clear. She was selecting candidates based on their performance during the previous trial, starting with the highest achievers and working downward. This meant that later candidates were both less likely to have perfect memory retention and more likely to find their correct slates already claimed by earlier selectors.

"Fifteen qualified, seventeen remaining," the witch announced after the twenty-ninth selection.

The crystalline chamber stood like a sentinel across the arena floor, containing the slates that would determine advancement or elimination.

Failed candidates joined the growing crowd in the arena stands, where thousands of previously eliminated prospectives watched the final selection process unfold.

The process continued with mechanical precision.

"Twenty-five qualified, forty-seven called," the witch announced after another series of selections.

The mathematics were becoming brutal. Nearly half of those called had failed to identify their patterns correctly or within the time limit.

The seemingly simple memory test was proving more psychologically demanding than the complex magical trials that had preceded it.

More names echoed across the arena. Success and failure alternated with devastating randomness that highlighted how crucial those first few seconds of seat memorization had been days ago.

"Thirty two qualified," the witch declared with finality after the seventy-second candidate had been called. "The memory phase is complete."

The final count was staggering—seventy-two candidates had been called before thirty two successful selections were achieved.

The absurd efficiency of the method meant that natural ability, not calling order, had ultimately determined advancement, but the psychological pressure had been enormous for everyone involved.

The absurd efficiency of the method meant that not just natural ability, but calling order as well, had ultimately determined advancement, but the psychological pressure had been enormous for everyone involved.

The witch turned toward the eliminated candidates with an expression that mixed sympathy with practical finality.

"To those who did not advance," she addressed them with maternal warmth, "remember that your academy journey is far from over. Excellence takes many forms, and your paths will lead to achievements that may ultimately surpass those who continue today."

The brief consolation was genuine but quickly concluded.

The witch’s attention shifted immediately to the sixteen successful candidates with an energy that suggested the real excitement was just beginning.

"Now we reach the trial’s true purpose," she announced with visible anticipation. "The second phase will test the capabilities that truly matter—your ability to survive magical combat against your fellow prospectives would be tested under the scrutiny of the academy authorities."

Ren glanced around, surveying the stands around them.

Thousands of students filled the seats—every prospective who had been eliminated during previous trials, and what appeared to be some academy, students, elders and distinguished visitors whose presence suggested the final trial’s significance extended far beyond student evaluation.

"Single elimination tournament," the witch announced with obvious delight. "Thirty one matches, one winner, one slot in the Imperial Academy’s most exclusive programs."

"The first match," the witch continued with theatrical satisfaction, "will feature Sertina of Block C."

A girl stepped forward from the group of successful candidates. Ren recognized her immediately—the enigmatic student known throughout the side blocks simply as "Shadow."

Her pale features and dark clothing had made her memorable, but her magical capabilities had remained mysterious throughout the previous trials.

"Versus Cordelia of Block C," the witch added.

Another Block C student approached, her expression reflecting nervous determination.

Cordelia had advanced through competent but unremarkable performance, and being matched against Shadow in the opening round seemed almost unfairly challenging.

"All other candidates, please clear the arena floor," the witch instructed. "Our first duel will commence immediately."

As Ren and the other waiting candidates moved toward designated seating areas, he found himself studying Shadow with analytical interest.

Her combat reputation was based more on whispered rumors than observed performance, and this would be the first opportunity to see her capabilities displayed openly.

The two girls took positions in the arena’s center, the vast space making them appear small and vulnerable beneath the watching thousands.

The contrast between Shadow’s calm confidence and Cordelia’s visible anxiety was striking even from a distance.

"Begin!" the witch’s voice echoed across the arena with magical amplification.

Shadow disappeared.

Not gradually, not through conventional magical concealment, but instantly—dissolving into a terrifying puff of black smoke that spread across the arena floor like living darkness.

The transformation was so complete and sudden that even Ren’s enhanced perception struggled to track what had occurred.

Cordelia’s eyes widened in shock as she found herself alone in the center of the arena, surrounded by writhing shadows that seemed to move with predatory intelligence.

She raised her magical defenses frantically, but her defense found no attack at all.

Slice!

The next instant, a thin line of blood appeared across Cordelia’s neck.

Not deep enough to cause serious injury, but clearly visible to every observer in the arena.

Shadow had struck with precision that demonstrated both incredible speed and perfect control, delivering a blow that could have been lethal but chose mercy instead.

The entire arena fell silent. Thousands of observers sat in stunned quiet as they processed what had just occurred.

Most hadn’t even seen Shadow’s attack—only the result that proved Cordelia’s defeat beyond any doubt.

But Ren’s eyes narrowed as his enhanced perception reconstructed the sequence of events.

He had seen enough to understand what Shadow had accomplished, and the implications were deeply concerning.

The speed she had demonstrated wasn’t just exceptional—it was beyond anything that should have been possible for a student at their level of training. The precision of her strike suggested combat experience that extended far beyond academic instruction.

Ren’s analytical mind replayed the sequence with methodical precision, breaking down what his enhanced perception had captured while most observers saw only impossibility.

Shadow hadn’t truly disappeared—she had merged with the arena’s natural shadows, becoming one with the darkness cast by the magical lighting overhead.

But the real innovation wasn’t the concealment technique itself.

When she had dissolved into black smoke, Ren had noticed something others missed: her shadow on the arena floor had remained distinct and separate from the spreading darkness.

While her physical form became undetectable, her shadow had moved independently across the stone surface like a living entity.

Most remarkably, he had seen her shadow approach Cordelia’s shadow from behind—two dark silhouettes converging on the arena floor while Cordelia frantically searched for an opponent who seemed to have vanished entirely.

The strike itself had been devastating in its simplicity. Shadow hadn’t attacked Cordelia’s physical body directly.

Instead, she had sliced at Cordelia’s shadow with what appeared to be a blade of concentrated darkness.

All while still being in her own shadow form!

The wound that appeared on Cordelia’s neck was the result of sympathetic magical connection between person and shadow.

The slight delay between the strike on the shadow and the woikd being inflicted in real time was proof that she had truly struck the shadow and not her real body that was merely being reflected.

By attacking the shadow, Shadow had inflicted real damage on her opponent’s physical form—a technique that bypassed conventional magical defenses entirely because most protective weaves focused on direct physical or magical attacks.

The implications were staggering. This wasn’t just advanced magic—it was combat methodology that operated on principles most prospectives had never encountered.

He had no idea if it was a weave or a rune ability.

Shadow magic at this level required understanding of dimensional manipulation, sympathetic magical theory, and combat application that suggested training far beyond standard academy curriculum.

More concerning was the precision required. One miscalculated strike at the shadow could have severed arteries in the physical body.

Shadow had demonstrated the ability to inflict precisely measured damage through techniques that most mages would consider theoretical at best.

She wasn’t just dangerous—she was operating with knowledge and capabilities that made her a threat to anyone who faced her in direct combat.

This tournament had just become far more lethal than anyone had anticipated.