It’s been five days since Amon found himself in this unknown place.
He still hadn’t made any progress. Though he wanted to leave this place and travel around to find soone, to find help. He noticed so things about this place that were not normal.
It was about the monsters here. The most common thing he noticed was the blood of the monsters. He had slain monsters before, but their blood had the sa color as humans. That was red.
But here, the monsters had black blood. The first humanoid monster, then the snake-type monster, and even the few monsters he had killed over the past few days. They all had black blood.
It was suspicious.
They weren’t strong ones. There were also many horned rabbits he found far away, in the direction of the river when he walked there.
And they possessed the sa black-colored blood.
Despite this horn rabbit not being too strong for him...they were still stronger that normal hormones rabbits he had killed before. In forest near Elarith city.
Another thing that made him fear the most was the unknown, strange presence at night.
He never went out of those buildings during nightti. But he could hear them.
The creepy screams of sothing coming from the forest from ti to ti during the night.
Amon never tried to go outside at that ti. That was the sole reason he never tried to leave this place and travel far away.
What would he do at night? What if those beings attacked him?
But he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed to move from here. It wasn’t like soone would co here to find him. For now, he was focusing on his training to learn anything, to get stronger if possible.
As much as possible. So he spent most of his ti training. Even now, he was training.
The ruins lay silent.
In one of the buildings that had the biggest hall, he was practicing his sword.
Broken stone pillars leaned against one another like tired sentinels, their surfaces cracked by ti and battle. At so spots, the ceiling had collapsed, open to the gray sky above.
Wind passed through hollow corridors, carrying dust and the faint scent of old mana scars.
It still brightened the dark space.
Amon Vale stood alone at the center of it all.
His breath ca slow and controlled. But his grip on the sword was tight
"Second Form... Shadow Fang," he murmured.
He lowered his stance, knees bent, weight shifted forward. The dark shadow beneath his feet moved upward and gathered faintly around his blade, thin and unstable, like smoke struggling to hold shape.
This form wasn’t about power.
That was the problem.
Amon burst forward.
His foot slamd against broken stone as he slashed at the air. Fast, sharp, decisive.
Shadow together with mana flared instinctively, leaving behind two dark streaks where his blade had passed.
But they moved wrong. Too slow. Too obvious.
The afterimages lagged behind the real strike instead of overlapping it. Any competent opponent would see through it instantly.
Amon clicked his tongue.
"Tch."
The shadows dissipated, crumbling like liquid, then moved back to him beneath his feet. He straightened, exhaled, then shook his wrist as if trying to release tension trapped in his arm.
Shadow Fang demanded deception, not strength.
It required the shadows to lie. To betray the sword’s true intent.
The Second Form didn’t need a strict position, stance, or slash. One could perform it with any kind of slash or even a thrust.
It created multiple slashes at the sa ti. But here ca deception. Among them, only a few were real. Hiding between or behind the fake ones. Those fake were afterimages or illusions.
But currently, Amon was only able to perform two slashes. Among them, one was fake while the other was real.
Yet both crumbled.
It wasn’t like he had started training this form just a few days ago. He had even tried it a few tis just after learning the First Form.
But it was really hard.
"Does... do I really need to break through the Mana Initiate rank to learn this perfectly?"
Amon couldn’t tell.
Honestly, he needed to focus too much to use his shadow ability for this. In reality, one needed to use elental mana to perform this better.
But only second-rank people could use elents on their weapons freely.
So Amon was replacing it with his shadow ability and strengthening it with mana to make it cleaner and more precise.
But his brain was throbbing from too much use of his shadow. Compared to his First Form, this needed far more control and focus.
’Let’s try again.’
Amon tried again. His body was tired, but he wasn’t finished yet.
This ti, he focused less on speed and more on timing. He deliberately delayed the flow of shadow and mana, forcing the shadow to bloom half a heartbeat before the strike.
He lunged.
The blade thrust forward. And the shadow snapped after.
Wrong again.
The technique collapsed mid-motion, the darkness dispersing uselessly around his feet.
Amon froze, staring at the fading black wisps.
"...Why won’t you move when I tell you to?"
Silence answered him.
"Haha... it seems being alone has made mad?" Amon rubbed his temples with a chuckle. Now he was complaining to his shadow. Talking to it.
He gazed at his shadow again.
His shadow stretched across the broken floor, distorted by uneven stone. For a mont, it looked almost mocking its shape lagging just slightly behind his own movents.
He clenched his jaw.
"Are you mocking , you bastard!?"
The First Form had been easy. Natural.
Shadow responded to wide arcs, flowing movent, raw intent. Very easily.
But the Second Form was different.
It was intimate. It was precise. It was cruel.
Shadow Fang wasn’t a slash. It was a bite. A sudden, rciless strike hidden behind false danger. It was faking, making enemies confused and fooled.
And Amon couldn’t lie well enough yet.
He reset his stance.
Again.
His legs burned faintly now. Sweat traced down his temple despite the cool air. He had been here for hours long enough for the sky to dull further, gray bleeding into early dusk.
Amon moved.
Step—feint—thrust.
The afterimage appeared too early this ti, drifting wide, completely detached from the real blade.
He stopped mid-motion, sword trembling.
"...Damn it."
He drove the tip of the blade into the stone floor. The impact echoed sharply through the ruins.
Amon leaned on the hilt, breathing heavily.
For a fleeting mont, doubt crept in.
Maybe I’m not suited for this form.
The thought lingered longer than he liked.
Shadow Fang required confidence in one’s own deception. A belief that the enemy would fall for the lie.
Amon had never been soone who trusted outcos.
He closed his eyes. He was breathing heavily. Sweat continued to flow down his skin. The faint breeze coming through the broken walls and ceiling felt cool.
The academy voices echoed faintly in his mory.
Lowest-ranked in Class A.
Still enjoying himself more than anyone.
Shadow and Darkness. How ominous.
Amon exhaled slowly.
"I don’t need talent," he said quietly. "Just consistency. Relentless hard work. Repetition."
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