The clearing was silent until the Halberd Knight caught sight of them. With a metallic groan that sounded like rusted hinges, the massive entity hoisted its weapon—a wicked combination of axe and spear—and began a heavy, rhythmic march toward them.
"Stay focused, Oliver," Alisa commanded, her hand steady on her hilt. "His reach is his greatest asset. If you hesitate in the 'dead zone,' you're finished."
The knight turned and stared at them for a few seconds before it lunged at them. With surprising speed for its size, it swung the halberd in a horizontal arc. The wind hissed as the blade sliced through the air. Alisa lunged forward, not away, meeting the shaft of the weapon with her own blade near the Knight's hands.
"Now!" she shouted.
Oliver sprinted into the gap. He visualized Alisa's sword, his Soul Bound Blade shifting from a formless shadow into a perfect replica of her gleaming straight sword. He aimed for the creature's waist, but the Knight was faster than it looked. Using the butt of the halberd, it shoved Alisa back and brought the heavy axe-head down toward Oliver.
Oliver remembered the grueling hours of guard-stance training. Instead of panicking, he shifted his weight. He didn't try to block the full force of the downward smash, his bones would have shattered. Instead, he angled his blade, letting the halberd's edge slide off his shadow-steel in a shower of sparks.
Parry, don't block, he reminded himself.
The Knight roared, a sound like grinding stone, and began a flurry of thrusts. Oliver was forced into a desperate dance. Each thrust was a deadly spear-tip aimed at his chest. Using the agility he'd gained over the last six months, he twisted his body, the tip of the halberd grazing his tunic.
Alisa circled back, her movements fluid and lethal. She struck the Knight's knee joint, forcing the monster to buckle. "Oliver! The mimicry! Don't just copy my sword—think about what you need right now!"
Oliver looked at the Knight's thick plate armor. A sword wasn't enough. He needed something with more 'bite.' He thought of Shiori's katana—the way it was built for a single, decisive draw-cut. His blade elongated, the edge becoming impossibly thin and curved.
The Knight swung again, a desperate overhead cleave. This time, Oliver didn't just parry. He stepped into the Knight's personal space, past the axe-head. As the halberd struck the dirt behind him, Oliver swept his black katana upward.
The blade, powered by his Hero's resolve, found the gap beneath the Knight's helmet. With a sharp crunch, the shadow-steel bit deep but it was not in its neck, the knight had long abandoned its double hand grip choosing to sacrifice its hand to protect its life.
Without wasting a beat Oliver dismissed his sword letting the blade dissolve into a black liquid before dashing back out of its reach before re-summoning his blade.
Alisa didn't give it a chance to recover. She dashed in and drove her sword through the creature's chest plate at the same moment Oliver rushed it stomping on the knights weapons stopping it from raising its weapon, due to its one hand grip it was not able to free its weapons in time using that advantage Oliver lashed his blade forward parsing the knight's palm it used to try and protect its self, the blade pierced through entering the knights neck, not wasting time he twisted his blade inside the neck guard. The Knight stiffened, the crimson plume on its helmet the knight started to move struggling under the strength of both Oliver and Alisa before the entire suit of armor collapsed into a heap of hollow metal.
Oliver collapsed to one knee, gasping for air, his black blade dissolving back into his skin.
"You did it," Alisa breathed, sheathing her sword. "Youve officially slain your first boss as a hero."
Suddenly, the familiar, soft voice echoed in Oliver's head, and a shimmering gold light began to emanate from the fallen armor.
"Boss Slain. Skill: Shadow mimicry obtained."
Oliver focused on the lingering warmth of the victory, calling forth his status window one more time before the light faded. The text for Shadow Mimicry was far more complex than he expected.
Unlike his basic ability to merely copy a weapon's shape, he could now manifest a physical shadow of a defeated foe, provided his soul remained stronger than theirs. The skill came with a heavy risk: if a summon was destroyed in battle, it was lost forever. However, if he recalled a damaged summon in time, it could recover over the course of hours or days, depending on the severity of its wounds. Just as he finished reading, the window shimmered and vanished back into the void.
"I guess Emmet was right—the status window really doesn't last long without a permanent trigger. What a shame," Oliver thought aloud.
"What did you get?" Alisa asked, her eyes wide with childlike excitement, a stark contrast to her usual knightly stoicism.
Oliver explained the nuances of the summoning skill to her. Before he could even finish his sentence, Alisa was practically vibrating with energy. "That is so cool! Summon it! Summon it! I want to see!" she exclaimed.
"Alright, alright," Oliver laughed, focusing on his will power.
A thick, ink-like shadow surged from Oliver's body, swirling across the stone floor before rapidly coalescing into the towering form of the Halberd Knight. It stood perfectly still, a silent sentinel of dark energy.
"That is just epic," Oliver said, his own breath catching at the sight of his new guardian.
The shadow knight tilted its head, scanning the clearing before walking with a heavy, rhythmic clank toward its own discarded corpse. It reached down, gripping the physical halberd. Instead of lifting it, the shadow absorbed the weapon into its form, integrating the steel into its shadowy essence. The knight then stood over its old, hollow armor, staring down with a silent air that Oliver could only describe as pity.
Alisa was instantly all over the summon. She circled it like a scholar discovering an ancient relic, poking at the shadow-plate and testing the density of its form with the hilt of her sword. She muttered to herself about the tactical applications and the sheer mana density required for such a feat, her professional curiosity completely taking over.
After several minutes of Alisa's obsessive "inspection," Oliver finally interrupted her. "Okay, that's enough. We've stayed in one spot too long, and I'm exhausted." With a flick of his wrist, he un-summoned the knight, watching as it dissolved back into the shadows of his own feet.
Alisa let out a huff of pure disappointment, crossing her arms like a scolded child as the "toy" was taken away. "I wasn't done analyzing its structural integrity, Oliver!"
"You can analyze it back at the house," Oliver replied, already turning toward the trail. The two began the trek back to camp—Oliver feeling a new sense of security, and a very displeased Alisa grumbling all the way.
When Oliver and Alisa finally stepped onto the porch of the house, they were met with the sight of Emmet showing Shiori a new set of interlocking wooden gears he had carved. Violet was nearby, organizing a fresh batch of herbs.
"We're back," Oliver announced, his voice weary but carrying a hint of pride. "And the mission was a success."
"Did you get it? Did you get a skill?" Emmet asked, immediately abandoning his project and jumping to his feet.
Instead of answering verbally, Oliver focused his mind. The shadows at his feet swirled and rose like boiling ink, taking the shape of the massive Halberd Knight. The armored specter towered over the porch, its presence so imposing that Violet shrieked and dove behind a wooden sofa. Shiori's hand instantly went to the hilt of her katana, her fox ears pinning back in a defensive stance, while Emmet just stared with his mouth wide open.
"Whoa," Emmet breathed, walking a slow circle around the shadow. "Is that the boss you went to kill? You can just... bring it back?"
"It's called Shadow Mimicry," Oliver explained, though he kept a close eye on the summon. "I can bring back any enemy I slay, provided my soul is stronger than theirs. But if it's destroyed, it's gone for good."
"A personal army," Shiori whispered, her red eyes reflecting the dark mana of the summon. "This is a dangerous path, Oliver. Summoning the dead can draw the attention of the Great Kings who claim these souls as their own."
"It's not just dangerous, it's efficient!" Emmet countered, poking the shadow-plate of the knight's leg. "Think about it—this guy can help with the heavy lifting, guard the perimeter while we sleep, or even help me hold beams in place for the next building expansion."
Alisa, still looking slightly cross about having her "research" interrupted earlier, chimed in. "He's a weak summon for now, just like us. But once we get out we can finally increase our strength, Oliver could potentially lead a legion of these things."
Violet peeked out from behind the sofa, looking at the shadow knight with a mixture of terror and envy. "Master Emmet makes soap and houses, and Master Oliver makes ghosts... Why am I the only normal one here?"
Emmet laughed, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. "Normal is boring, Violet. Now, since Oliver brought home a new roommate, I think it's time we celebrate with that meat soup and a round of the new soap in the hot spring. We've got six months left until the mission window opens, and I want this base to look like a fortress by then."