The assassin moved like flowing shadow, his twin mist blades whispering through the air like death made flesh. His every motion was ghostlike—unseen, unheard, and barely even sensed. But Shadow did not flinch.
His eyes narrowed, body loose, sword angled low. He had seen killers before—men fueled by hatred, beasts driven by bloodlust. But this one… this one was *trained*. Calculated. Cold.
The first strike came like wind—a blur in the fog, a shimmer in the corner of his eye. Shadow ducked. The blade passed inches from his throat.
A second flash—lower this time. A mist-wrapped thrust aimed for his abdomen.
He twisted sideways, deflecting the blow with his sheath. Sparks hissed in the fog. A lock of his hair floated to the ground.
Then came a third strike, not from the front—but behind.
Shadow rolled forward, springing to his feet, slashing backward with a spin. **Flash Blade Art** hissed in the mist, slicing through silence.
*Nothing.*
He pivoted.
And blocked a strike coming from his blind left.
The assassin moved like he *was* the fog. Blades of condensed Qi shimmered, stabbing and sweeping from impossible angles. Shadow's body bled—thin cuts on his forearm, a burn across his thigh. But none were deep.
He countered.
Feint high, slash low. A stab, a flicker of **Thunder Step**, a disengage. Then another flash.
The assassin twisted, avoided it entirely, and surged forward again.
"He's reading my moves," Shadow thought, ducking behind a swirling wall of fog. "Or worse—he's guiding them."
He had no choice.
He backed into the mist, sheathed his sword, and waited.
Silence.
A breath passed. Then two.
He focused, pushing his Qi outward—not to attack, but to **feel**. He tuned himself to the ambient storm Qi infused into the tomb, aligning his spiritual sense with the faintest vibrations.
There.
A ripple.
He unsheathed and turned—**Flash Blade Art** colliding midair with the assassin's descending strike.
Steel and fog screamed.
Shadow slid back, boots carving sparks on the stone.
A grin tugged at his lips. "You're fast. But I've fought faster."
The assassin didn't speak. His response came with action—he dropped his stance, both blades forming a triangle of mist symbols. Shadow's eyes widened.
**Demonic Formation.**
Runes ignited in the air. The mist thickened into a dome, sealing them inside.
The walls shimmered like a mirror, but with *thirteen reflections*—each an illusion of the assassin, each wielding blades.
Shadow turned slowly, blade drawn.
One illusion moved.
Then another.
Then *all thirteen attacked at once.*
He *moved*.
Shadow didn't run—he *dived*. He dropped to the floor, letting blades pass above him like wind. As he rolled, he struck the floor with a pulse of lightning Qi, sending a crackle outward.
Seven reflections flickered.
"Found you."
He surged forward, slashing through the illusion to the left of the fourth pillar. His sword met steel—*real* steel.
The assassin hissed and staggered, one arm grazed. He fell back, but the dome pulsed again.
This time, the walls *moved*, rotating like gears.
The dome tried to trap Shadow inside a crushing circle of fog.
He sheathed his sword.
Closed his eyes.
And let the storm *guide him*.
A single breath.
The hum of the tomb's energy flowed into his bones. He centered it. Aligned it.
**Echo Devour.**
Lightning surged from his core, absorbing the tomb's residual Qi and dispersing the formation.
The dome cracked. Reflections *shattered*.
And the assassin screamed—only for a moment—before charging again, now *desperate*, now *injured*.
He spun, both blades coated in a red mist now—thicker, heavier. **Blood Qi.**
"So you were demonic all along," Shadow muttered.
The assassin's eyes, barely visible behind his mask, glinted with rage.
Their blades met again—not with grace, but fury.
Shadow ducked a slash, stabbed, missed. Parried, rolled. A blade skimmed his ribs. He backhanded the attacker, thunder cracking on contact.
The assassin spat blood—but didn't slow.
Shadow's breathing grew ragged. Blood seeped into his robes. His shoulder throbbed from a deep cut.
But his eyes… his eyes were clear.
The assassin lunged for a final kill—straight thrust to the heart.
Shadow stepped *into* the strike.
Steel pierced his side—just barely.
But it gave him the angle.
**Flash Blade Art**.
One slash.
From hip to shoulder.
The assassin froze.
Then fell, gasping.
Shadow dropped to one knee. Breathing hard. His hands shook. But he lived.
He took the assassin's ring. Burned the body with a spark of thunder.
And stood.
At the far end of the chamber, a silver door etched in runes appeared—responding to the blood spilled and the test passed.
He walked toward it, leaving behind the corpse, the silence, and the blood-slick floor.
The storm whispered behind him.
Another gate had opened.
And Shadow had walked through it.
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