The black door of Room Nine slid shut behind them without a sound.
Eryndor and Darius stepped forward.
The moment they crossed the threshold into Room Eight, space opened.
An arena revealed itself—vast, circular, its floor forged from obsidian etched with ancient ether runes. Above, there was no ceiling. Instead, a false sky churned with slow-moving darkness, like storm clouds frozen in time.
At the center of the arena sat a man.
Cross-legged.
Back straight.
Breathing steady.
He wore dark robes trimmed with faint silver lines, and shadows bent subtly toward him as if acknowledging authority.
Eryndor exhaled slowly.
"Handle this one," he said calmly.
Darius nodded once.
Eryndor leaned against the arena wall, arms crossed, expression relaxed—as if this were a sparring match instead of Atlas territory.
The man at the center opened his eyes.
They were void-black, yet reflective.
"So," he said evenly, standing to his feet, "you are Eryndor Nasarik."
Eryndor glanced over lazily.
"It seems my reputation supersedes me."
The man gave a faint smile.
"Taking Asmodeus' arm is no easy feat," he said. "Even Number Three couldn't do that without losing half his body."
Darius stepped forward, shadows rippling behind him.
"Well," Darius said flatly, "you're fighting me. So let's get it over with."
The man's smile widened.
"Lexus," he said.
"Number Eight of Atlas."
"A practitioner of darkness."
His gaze sharpened.
"Don't die too early."
The arena shifted.
Darkness surged outward—not illusion, not concealment—but dominion. Lexus' shadow expanded, swallowing the floor, climbing the walls, twisting gravity itself.
Darius did not retreat.
He stepped into it.
The darkness hesitated.
Then—
It recoiled.
Because Darius' shadow did not belong to Lexus.
It belonged to the Black Sun.
The floor split as shadow collided with shadow, two authorities clashing in silence so dense it crushed sound itself. Lexus vanished, reappearing behind Darius in a blur, a blade of condensed darkness forming in his hand.
Darius turned.
Too late—
The blade pierced through where his heart should have been.
Lexus' eyes widened.
The body dispersed into shadow.
Darius emerged behind him, hand already extended.
"Wrong darkness," Darius said calmly.
The arena trembled as Black Sun's Domain bled into the space, swallowing Lexus' control inch by inch. Lexus countered instantly, his darkness sharpening, compressing, attempting to override.
For the first time—
He frowned.
"You're not just a user," Lexus said. "You're a warden."
Darius didn't answer.
He vanished.
Shadows exploded across the arena as the two clashed—silent, lethal exchanges at speeds that bent perception. Darkness became blades, chains, mirrors, pits. Lexus adapted fast, proving why he was Number Eight.
But Darius was not fighting alone.
He was fighting with a domain.
And the domain was watching.
—
The door behind Eryndor slid open.
"Yo."
Rein Clark walked in first, cracking his neck. Stellar followed, hands behind her back, eyes gleaming. Kaelus came last—breathing steadier now, aura stronger but still clearly exhausted.
Eryndor glanced sideways.
"You guys catch up," he said. "Took you long enough."
Rein snorted.
"Hey, I had to take the scenic route. Dragon blood ain't light work."
Eryndor's gaze flicked to Kaelus.
"…Damn, bro," he said. "We ain't even at Room Four yet."
He pushed off the wall and placed a hand on Kaelus' shoulder.
Storm energy flowed—controlled, warm, stabilizing. Kaelus exhaled sharply as torn channels repaired and exhaustion eased.
"Congrats," Eryndor said with a grin. "Low deity now. Welcome to the problem club."
Kaelus laughed weakly.
"Man… I almost died."
Eryndor side-eyed Rein.
"Don't be barbarous like someone I know."
Rein blinked.
"Aye yo."
Stellar nodded seriously.
"He's right though."
Rein looked betrayed.
From the arena—
"I am literally fighting for gods' sake right now."
Darius' voice echoed as he clashed with Lexus again, shadows detonating mid-air.
"Can y'all chill for one second and just watch?!"
Eryndor smirked and leaned back against the wall again.
"Relax," he said. "You got this."
In the arena, Lexus staggered back, darkness fracturing under pressure he hadn't anticipated.
He laughed—strained, sharp.
"So this is the Black Sun's shadow," he muttered. "How ironic."
Darius stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly.
"No," he said.
"This is judgment."
The darkness deepened.
And Room Eight began to close its jaws.