Itekan came to a stop less than ten seconds later. Right before him stood the ace of Rangers Academy: Shzekcl.
"I didn't expect you'd come out this soon"
"Dont lie. It doesn't suit you " Itekan said frowning. All his senses were on high alert.
"True. I never was good at lying. I disdain the human body for its excess in complex emotions."
"... Of course." Itekan whispered. This time he was going all out from the beginning. The last time they met Shzekcl had speedblisted him.
So he knew that at the very least his base speed surpassed anything Itekan could muster at the moment.
So that left to overwhelm him with other of his abilities. Besides if he was on the same level as Senior Korimer he doubted he'd be able to win in a one v one. So he was only interested in stalling for Itoyea and Bukanami to capture a flag.
"Are you going to just stand there?" Itekan asked his shadow tentacles had spread across the area around them. If he couldn't defeat him in speed. It was better to restrict his movement. Quickly activating his technique he called out.
"Shadows hand; Shadow Domain!!" Itekan called out as a dark whisp of shadow rose from the shadow tentacles Itekan had spread around.
In less than a second the dark dome of shadows formed leaving Itekan and Shzekcl inside it.
At least in here Itekan thought, it'd be harder to move at his fastest speeds.
The world darkened.
As soon as Itekan's shadow dome sealed shut, the colors bled out of the environment.
A muted realm of black, dark violet, and ghost-grey swallowed the two figures now trapped inside it.
Within this space, Itekan's heartbeat was the only thing he could hear—until Shzekcl finally moved.
No dust shift.
No footstep.
No air displacement.
Just presence.
A cold, breathless presence, like a blade pressed against the back of one's mind.
Shzekcl tilted his head, his dull grey eyes reflecting nothing. "A domain. Efficient. Predictable. Typical of someone clinging to the illusion of control."
Itekan's fingers tightened on his daggers. "At least in here you won't be able to blitz me like last time."
Shzekcl blinked slowly, almost disappointed. "Speed is not something I use. Speed… is something I exist in."
Then he vanished.
A streak of muted silver light cut across the domain. Itekan reacted instantly, teleporting to his left—disappearing into shadow and reappearing ten meters away. A shadow tentacle erupted from the ground, slashing toward the blur that was Shzekcl.
The Ranger didn't dodge. He phase-stepped, slipping through space like a ghost of acceleration, reappearing behind Itekan.
Itekan's instincts screamed.
He spun, crossing both blades in time to block Shzekcl's twin daggers. Sparks crackled in the darkness, the shockwave warping the shadow-dome's surface.
Shzekcl's voice was monotone, detached.
"Better. Your reactions have grown."
"But you're still faster," Itekan said, pushing off and teleporting again.
Shadow tendrils burst upward from every angle, dozens of jagged whips converging on the Ranger.
Shzekcl moved through them like he was navigating falling leaves.
No wasted motion.
No emotion.
No hesitation.
Every dodge was an absolute minimum of movement—efficiency incarnate.
"And you…" Shzekcl said, "…are still too loud."
Itekan's eye twitched. "LOUD? Bro I'm literally TRYING to kill you!"
Shzekcl didn't respond. His body dissolved into motion, his figure breaking into dozens of afterimages, each attacking from a different angle.
Itekan felt steel bite into his shoulder. Another slice cut along his ribs. A third stabbed into his thigh, shallow but precise.
Not lethal.
Just debilitating.
He's holding back, Itekan realized. He wants to disable me, not finish the fight.
"I see," Itekan muttered, wiping blood from his lip. "You really do look down on me."
Shzekcl stood still again, the domain shadows writhing around him as if repelled by his existence. "I do not look down. I simply do not look. You are an object in motion. A factor. A variable."
"…You don't see me as a person?"
Shzekcl paused.
His voice lowered slightly—not emotional, but almost contemplative.
"People have color. You do not."
Itekan clicked his tongue. "Hah. Guess I'll have to make you see me then."
Shadow tentacles surged all at once, hundreds of black whips tearing through the space. While they attacked, dozens of floating daggers materialized—Calogaja, the hundred shadow knives.
Each dagger connected to Itekan's fingers by near-invisible SE strings.
He moved his hands.
The daggers obeyed like puppets.
They spiraled around Shzekcl, forming a rotating cage.
"Converge!"
The knives struck at once.
Shzekcl finally frowned—a small twitch of his eyebrow, barely there.
His body blurred, disappearing in a burst of muted grey light. The shadow knives missed by a hair. But Itekan was already teleporting to the next predicted point, dagger in hand.
"Shadow Dagger!"
He slashed.
Shzekcl jerked—surprised. He couldn't dodge the blade meant to never miss.
So he parried—barely—and skidded backward, his boots cracking the shadow floor.
For the first time, he truly looked at Itekan.
"…So that is the weapon that chooses its mark."
"Oh, you noticed?"
Itekan's grin was wide. Confident. Alive.
Shzekcl hated it.
Emotion.
Heat.
Color.
"Annoying," he said flatly.
Then he flicked his wrist.
The air sharpened.
A technique—his first real technique—took shape.
SHZECKL'S TECHNIQUE: VELOCITY FRACTURE
Lines of compressed momentum formed in the air, thin as hair but sharp as razors. They sliced through the shadow domain in straight, merciless angles.
Itekan teleported again—but even teleportation couldn't fully save him. One line skimmed his cheek; another cut across his arm; another burrowed into his shoulder.
Burning pain surged—but then his shadow healing activated, knitting his flesh together quickly.
Still, Shzekcl's expression remained unchanged.
"You heal fast. But you felt it. Pain slows thought. Thought slows motion. Motion kills you."
Itekan wiped sweat from his brow. "You talk a lot for someone who hates talking."
"I do not talk. I observe."
Itekan inhaled.
Shadow tentacles withdrew, pulling into the ground. Shadow daggers froze in midair.
Fire sparked behind him—a swirling mass of crimson and gold.
Shzekcl's gaze lowered by a fraction.
"A fire technique inside a shadow domain. Inefficient."
"Let's find out."
Itekan extended his palm.
"CHAJAMA!"
Hundreds of fireballs erupted, spiraling outward like a storm of falling suns. The entire domain lit in blinding orange.
Shzekcl moved—but this time, not cleanly.
Fireballs grazed him. One clipped his arm, burning the fabric. Another struck his side, knocking him off balance for a split second.
Itekan's eyes narrowed.
"Got you."
He raised his other hand.
"MINIMUM CHAJAMA!"
A tiny sphere of condensed fire—bright as molten gold—formed between his fingers.
The air trembled.
Shzekcl's pupils shrank. He recognized the density. The implosion waiting to erupt.
A rare spark of emotion flickered across his face.
"…Troublesome."
He moved—but Itekan teleported behind him, slamming the tiny orb directly into Shzekcl's back.
The explosion was silent.
A flash of collapsing energy rippled, distorting the domain like a black hole swallowing light.
Shzekcl was thrown violently across the arena, crashing into the shadow ground hard enough to leave a crater.
Itekan landed, panting. "See? Loud enough for you?"
Shzekcl rose slowly.
His body repaired itself through controlled SE circulation. His expression didn't change—but internally?
This one… is evolving.
Momentum adapts. Variables shift. He learns mid-flow. This is… inconvenient.
He reached into his coat. His fingers wrapped around a final dagger—one he hadn't needed in years.
To end this quickly… I will need precision.
He stepped forward.
The air cracked.
Itekan's shadow tentacles reacted instantly…but they were too slow. Shzekcl was no longer simply fast—
He was accelerating beyond the domain's predictions.
Itekan felt the shift.
He stopped playing.
Shzekcl appeared before him.
Two inches away.
"I will erase your movement."
His dagger thrust—
—and Itekan blocked with Moonveil Fang.
The poison blade met Shzekcl's precision strike, sending shockwaves through the domain.
Itekan gritted his teeth. "You… actually going all out now?"
"No," Shzekcl said quietly. "Just concluding the grey."
Itekan's muscles trembled. His arms shook. His shadow spirit strained to keep up with the accelerated assault.
But he didn't fall.
He pushed back.
"Your grey isn't the only color here."
Itekan headbutted him.
Shzekcl staggered—shocked.
Itekan grinned. "My world has plenty of color. I'll show you."
He raised his hands.
Shadow and fire swirled. Calogaja knives spun in orbit. Tentacles erupted from below.
And Chajama blazed above.
Shzekcl inhaled.
"…So bright."
Then—
They clashed.
Shadow and speed.
Fire and momentum.
Emotion and emptiness.
The domain shook, cracking like glass.
Itekan's eyes widened.
Shzekcl's dagger stopped an inch from his throat.
The domain shattered.
.
.
.
Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)