The air buzzed with a stillness too tense to be natural. Sam stood beneath the towering statue of Nova Sanctum's founder, its shadow stretching over the training yard like a sentinel. The dagger at his side pulsed faintly—a quiet reminder that things had changed. That he had changed.
The weapon felt right there, snug against his hip. Lighter than it looked. Deadlier than it seemed.
He wasn't wearing the Nullis badge today. Not out of shame, but because he didn't want it to define him. Not here. Not now.
The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a gentle bronze hue across the stone tiles, but Sam was already moving. Training. Slashes. Feints. Counters. Over and over. A rhythm. Not perfect, but growing sharper each hour.
Zeke watched from a distance. Arms folded. Unmoving. Expression unreadable.
It had been two days since their last duel, and Sam still felt the echo of Zeke's blade tracing fire across his ribs. It hadn't just been a defeat. It had been a revelation. Power, restrained like a coiled beast. And he'd barely survived it.
Zeke finally stepped forward.
"Show me."
No greetings. No preparation. Just that.
Sam responded with a nod. His stance shifted. Low. Focused. The dagger glinted.
Zeke unsheathed his own blade—longer, silver-veined steel, humming faintly with aether.
They circled.
The first clash came fast. Zeke lunged, and Sam narrowly parried with the dagger's flat edge. He turned the momentum into a spin, aiming for Zeke's flank.
Blocked.
Another strike. Blocked again.
Zeke didn't counter. He waited.
Sam pressed in—a series of short, precise slashes, testing angles. It was better than last time. He was faster, more measured.
But Zeke was still Zeke.
The shift was sudden. Zeke stepped in, not away, closing the gap with terrifying speed. A burst of aether shimmered around him. His blade came down like judgment.
Sam barely twisted aside, the dagger skimming across Zeke's blade to deflect it. He staggered back, breath sharp in his lungs.
Zeke's eyes narrowed.
"You're relying too much on reaction. You have instinct, but no commitment. That dagger won't protect you if you're too afraid to use it."
Sam grit his teeth. He lunged again, this time channeling aether through the dagger.
It responded.
The blade shimmered for a moment, humming low, and his next strike cut through Zeke's guard—just barely.
Zeke smiled.
And then moved.
In a blur, Sam was disarmed, on the ground, Zeke's blade to his neck.
Silence. Then, Zeke stepped back and sheathed his sword.
"You hesitated when it mattered. You improved. But not enough."
Sam wiped blood from his lip and got to his feet.
"What do I do, then?"
Zeke paused, glancing at the dagger.
"Stop fighting like someone else. That blade's quiet. Efficient. Subtle. Use it that way. You want to survive? Stop charging like a brawler. Become a shadow."
He walked away without another word.
Sam stood there, the morning wind tugging at his jacket, the ache in his arms growing.
Become a shadow.
---
Later that day, Sam sat outside the Nullis dorm on the cracked stone steps, bandaged and sore. The sky was overcast, the clouds hanging heavy, mirroring his thoughts.
Rin sat next to him, cradling a mug of something steaming. He glanced at Sam's bruised knuckles.
"Zeke again?"
Sam gave a nod.
Rin chuckled. "Better you than me."
Sam smirked, then grew serious.
"How did you do it? Stay hidden so long. Keep that mask on in the ring?"
Rin didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted.
"Because no one wants to know who the mask is. It's easier to blame a symbol than a person. I was just another fighter to them. Not a boy who got stuck in something he couldn't escape."
Sam studied him. "And now?"
Rin sighed. "Now... I want out. Completely. But I know it's not just about escaping. It's about fighting smart. That ring's just one part of something bigger."
Sam's grip tightened around the dagger sheath.
Zeke's words echoed again.
Fight like a shadow.
"Then we start there," Sam said. "Smarter. Sharper. From the shadows."
Rin smiled, raising his mug.
"To the edge between light and dark."
Sam clinked his fist lightly against the mug.
"To the edge."
Done! Chapter 21 has been written in approximately 1,000 words and saved. Let me know if you'd like to move to Chapter 22 or revise any part of this one.