Inside Astralis Arcanum, Zane’s residence looked quiet and ordinary from the outside—just a simple instructor’s room with lights off and curtains gently shifting in the breeze.
But inside, it was another world.
The entire space was sealed within a shimring blue mana barrier that thrumd faintly, isolating him completely from the outside. The soft glow painted the walls like ripples of water, casting moving shadows around the room. In front of him floated several massive holographic screens, each one displaying a different battlefield.
Zane sat back in his chair, legs crossed, expression relaxed yet focused. His violet eyes reflected the violent clashes happening across the screens—firestorms, rune detonations, and explosions of wind and mana tearing through the mirrored arenas.
Beside him, holographic Eira hovered in her tiny chibi-like form, holding a miniature holographic mic as if she were hosting a show. She watched the battles with wide eyes, occasionally gasping dramatically.
Zane tapped a finger lightly on the armrest.
"Maera’s team battle is almost finished," he murmured.
His gaze slid to another screen.
"And so is Ron’s team..."
Eira floated closer and zood a screen in. On it, Aurelian Valmont and his entire team lay sprawled on the reflective ground, their shadows already dissolved into dust-like motes of mana. Their bodies were intact—no grave injuries—but all of them were unconscious, defeated completely.
Zane sighed.
"Too bad. They were good candidates too."
His voice carried a faint note of disappointnt.
"But they lost."
Two more screens flickered—each showing a collapsed team sprawled across the mirror floor, their reflections gone, their bodies breathing but beaten.
"Those two groups failed as well..." Zane muttered.
He reoriented the screens with a flick of his finger, bringing Maera’s and Ron’s battles front and center again. The forr was nearly over—Maera’s crimson aura and Col’s silver blades were pressing their shadows down relentlessly. The latter, however, showed chaos: Lia collapsing after shredding Selene’s shadow, and Ron engaged in a fierce duel against Jax’s clone.
"But the thod used..." Zane smiled faintly. "They’re both correct. Different, but correct."
Eira nodded imdiately, her little holographic mic bouncing.
"Yes, boss! Maera’s team—they’re using a completely different tactic from Ron’s group."
Her voice carried the excitent of a comntator narrating a sports match.
"Instead of swapping opponents like Ron’s group... Maera’s team is enhancing themselves using the calming technique you taught them. The one thing their reflections can’t copy."
Zane leaned forward slightly, interested.
"Hmm. Good."
His eyes shifted to Lia’s screen.
"And Lia... she used my advice too."
Eira nodded, wings fluttering.
"She rembered what you said about montum—and converted her movent into pure offensive power!"
Zane smiled faintly, a rare expression of approval lighting his face.
"Good girl."
On the screen, Lia collapsed to the ground, panting, blade trembling in her hand.
Zane clasped his fingers together.
"Now then... let’s see what will happen next ?"
The screens glowed brighter—
the battles intensifying—
and Zane watched with calm, unshakable amusent.
--
In Maera’s chamber, the air trembled under a violent storm of aura. Crimson-red energy burst outward in feral waves as Maera tore through the battlefield, her movents raw and untad. The dark red wild aura surrounding her rippled like a raging beast straining against invisible chains. Her olive greenish-yellow eyes glead with fierce resolve—predatory, sharp, unyielding.
Her reflection—her own dark copy—was breathing hard now, its expression twisted not with emotion, but with the instinctive trouble of a creature being overpowered. Each ti Maera stepped in, claws flashing, the shadow stepped back half a beat slower.
Maera wasn’t just using Iron Pulse.
She was using her Iron Pulse.
Iron Pulse: Wild Resonance.
Her own evolution of the technique—born in blood, danger, and instinct inside that dungeon incident a few days ago.
The rhythmic hum of Iron Pulse rged with her savage aura, making every heartbeat explode into power. Her muscles tightened, her steps sharpened, her senses sharpened to a razor’s edge.
She lunged again, her crimson gauntlet claws slicing through the air.
Each strike carved glowing red arcs across the floor, pushing her shadow further and further back. Blood-like mana scattered from the wounds opening on the reflection’s body.
Maera grinned—wild, fearless, thrilled.
"Let finish you...!"
Her claws crossed, locking into a deadly scissor-shape.
Savage Spiral Rend: Frenzy Lunge.
She burst forward in a blur—so fast the floor cracked beneath her feet. The shadow barely had ti for its eyes to widen before Maera’s scissoring claws tore through its torso, ripping it open cleanly.
The shadow collapsed, dissolving into a spray of red mana motes.
Maera rolled her shoulder once, flicking invisible dust off her gauntlets.
"Done."
Far behind her, Drevin fought in absolute silence.
His bow glead with tight mana, the string vibrating with a low, resonant hum matching the steady beat of his heart. Each inhale pulled mana in. Each exhale released it into the arrow.
Just like Maera...
He was using Iron Pulse too.
But Drevin’s Iron Pulse wasn’t wild.
It was calm. Ruthless. Surgical.
He moved continuously—steps light, breath asured, eyes cold. His shadow fired arrows at impossibly precise angles, matching him one-for-one. But Drevin’s heart-sync technique pushed him ahead. His mana flowed more smoothly, his stance more grounded, his aim more stable.
Arrow after arrow collided mid-air—
clang, clang, clang
—mana splashing in bursts of blue and black.
Then Drevin’s eyes narrowed a fraction.
Timing aligned with instinct.
His breath vanished into stillness.
The finishing sequence began.
He drew an arrow back, black mana gathering along its length.
Nightstalk Arrow: Wraithtrap.
He loosed it.
The arrow split mid-flight into dark chains that writhed like serpents. They streaked across the arena—too fast, too unpredictable. His reflection tried to dodge, slipping between two chains, but—
A rain of Drevin’s earlier arrows crashed into the ground behind him, forcing him off balance.
The chains wrapped around the shadow’s limbs, tightening with a hungry hiss.
Drevin didn’t speak.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t taunt.
He simply exhaled, drawing his bow one last ti.
A deep violet arrow—pure shadow mana—ford on the string.
Nightstalk Arrow: Specter’s Barrage.
He released.
The arrow cracked through the air like a whip of darkness, piercing the shadow’s chest directly. For half a second, everything went silent.
Then—
BOOM.
A violent burst of purple haze erupted outward, shredding the trapped reflection. Shadowy spirits clawed their way from the impact, tearing through the reflection’s fading form before it scattered into drifting particles of mana.
Drevin lowered his bow.
No cheer.
No excitent.
Just a slow sigh... a quiet acknowledgent that his work here was done.
He glanced at Maera—still radiating wild heat.
Col—locked in combat but holding strong.
Their team was winning.
Their tactics were working.
And in every chamber...
every fight...
Zane’s teachings were echoing through the battlefield.
.
.
.
Col exhaled sharply as he straightened, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. In front of him lay the headless body of his reflection—its form flickering, crumbling, breaking apart into drifting motes of pale mana that floated upward like fading sparks. The air still humd with the lingering echo of blade clashes.
He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"Professor Zane’s technique really is sothing..." he muttered, voice breathless. "It’s the only thing those guys couldn’t replicate... hah... seriously—"
He bent slightly, hands on his knees.
"That was... really tiring."
A small, quiet voice ca from his right.
"C-Col...?"
He turned.
Iselde Velmira stood there, shoulders pressed inward, long dark-green hair clinging slightly to her cheek, her fingers nervously rubbing the pouch still faintly glowing with residual magic. Her reflection had just finished disintegrating behind her—its mana drifting like dust in sunlight.
"You okay, Col...?" she asked softly.
Col straightened fully, forcing a tired grin.
"Yeah, Iselde... I’m fine."
He rolled his shoulders to loosen them. "Just exhausted. That shadow version of wasn’t pulling any punches."
He paused, then added with a nod toward her:
"Anyway—you did great yourself, didn’t you?"
Iselde’s cheeks colored slightly. She fidgeted, staring down.
"Y-yes... Professor Zane’s technique... it helped stay calm. I... I don’t think I could’ve done it otherwise."
Col smiled faintly.
"That’s good. That’s real good."
Before either could say more—
A cheerful, overly-loud voice rang across the chamber:
"DING... DING... DING!"
Eira’s voice exploded into the air with bright excitent.
"Third and final phase of this tournant—is officially finished!!
Congratulations to all of you for successfully overcoming the Trial of Reflection!"
Her voice echoed through every chamber at once.
Light burst beneath Col and Iselde’s feet—
and before they could react, the world around them dissolved into brilliance.
They vanished.
---
At the Sa Ti — Ron’s Chamber,
Ron stood panting, sweat trickling down his temple, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. In front of him lay Jax’s shadow, a faint grin still on its dissolving face even in defeat. A clean hole marked the center of its forehead—created by Ron’s final thrust.
Mana particles drifted up like fireflies as the body faded.
Jax jogged over, wiping gri off his cheek.
"Bro! Finally done—holy crap, that took forever—"
Ron exhaled a shaky breath.
"Yeah... that one wasn’t easy..."
On the opposite side, Selene stood over the dissipating remains of Lia’s shadow, her staff dimming as the last sparks fell away. She was breathing harder than usual, cheeks slightly flushed from the intense clash of runes.
A voice burst into their chamber too—
"Ding ding ding! Congratulations participants!"
Eira’s cheerful tone filled the arena.
"You have successfully completed the third and final phase! Great job, everyone—now kindly hold still while we move you to the next stage!"
A flash of white swallowed them.
Ron blinked once.
Then they vanished.
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