SSS-Rank Skill Copy: I Can Steal Every Class

Chapter 112: The Shadow Weaver Wakes

The medical bay of Eden’s subterranean sanctuary felt like the epicenter of a brewing storm.

Mary McDonald—Morrigan—lay unconscious on the sterile surgical table, her chest exposed. The black, necrotic veins of the anti-mana rot pulsed sluggishly beneath her pale skin, a visible manifestation of the demonic entropy that had been slowly eating her alive for eighteen years. The air around her was freezing, carrying the distinct, metallic scent of ozone and decaying magic.

Vane stood over her, his silver mask reflecting the blinding white light of the Purification Core held securely in his insulated tongs.

Isla, Fraser, and Malachi stood behind a reinforced, transparent blast shield a few feet away. Isla’s hands were white-knuckled around the grips of her runic pistols, her green eyes fixed unblinkingly on the surgical table. The tension in the room was absolute, a physical weight that made it difficult to breathe.

"Initiating alignment," Vane announced, his synthesized voice cutting through the silence.

He lowered the tongs. The glowing white sphere hovered inches above the center of Morrigan’s chest, directly over the spot where her original SS-Rank core had been shattered.

The reaction was instantaneous and violent.

The moment the Purification Core entered the immediate proximity of the rot, the anti-mana fought back. The black veins on Morrigan’s skin flared, expanding rapidly as the demonic energy sensed its antithesis. A thick, suffocating cloud of dark mist erupted from her chest, swirling around the white sphere like a swarm of angry locusts trying to devour a star.

The temperature in the medical bay plummeted. Frost instantly crystallized across the glowing monitors, the screens cracking under the sudden thermal shock. The lumen-strips overhead flickered and died, leaving the room illuminated only by the clash of absolute light and absolute darkness.

"The rot is resisting the inversion frequency," Vane reported, his cybernetic eyes whirring frantically as he adjusted the angle of the tongs. "The density of the anti-mana is higher than anticipated. It has entrenched itself deep within her cellular structure."

"Push it through, Vane!" Malachi commanded, his voice booming over the rising, high-pitched whine of conflicting energies. "Do not let the core destabilize!"

Vane gritted his teeth, the muscles in his arms bulging as he physically forced the Purification Core downward, pressing it directly against Morrigan’s sternum.

The collision of the two forces created a localized shockwave.

The blast shield in front of Isla spider-webbed with a deafening crack. The heavy steel surgical table groaned, the metal legs buckling slightly under the sheer kinetic pressure of the magical reaction.

A sound tore through the room—a horrific, dual-layered screech that didn’t come from Morrigan, but from the anti-mana itself. It sounded like tearing metal and screaming voices, the auditory manifestation of the void being forcibly unmade.

The blinding white light of the Purification Core flared, expanding outward in a brilliant, searing halo. It pierced the dark mist, driving into Morrigan’s chest like a spear of solid sunlight.

Isla threw her arm up to shield her eyes, the light burning through her closed eyelids.

For ten agonizing seconds, the medical bay was consumed by the roaring, chaotic storm of the inversion process. The floor shook violently, dust and loose stone raining down from the ceiling of the bunker. It felt as though the entire sanctuary was going to collapse under the strain of the warring energies.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the roaring stopped.

The blinding light snapped out, plunging the room into heavy, suffocating darkness. The high-pitched whine of the monitors faded into a flat, continuous drone.

Isla lowered her arm, blinking rapidly to clear the afterimages from her vision. The emergency backup lights flickered on, casting a dim, red glow across the ruined medical bay.

The surgical table was scorched black. The monitors were shattered. Vane was on his knees, his insulated coat smoking, his silver mask cracked down the center.

But Isla wasn’t looking at the damage. She was looking at the woman on the table.

Morrigan lay perfectly still. The glowing white sphere of the Purification Core was gone, fully absorbed into her chest cavity. The black, necrotic veins that had mapped her skin for nearly two decades had vanished completely, leaving behind smooth, unblemished flesh. The sickly, pale pallor of her face was replaced by a healthy, vibrant flush.

The rot was gone.

The room was dead silent. No one moved. No one breathed.

Then, Morrigan took a breath.

It wasn’t the shallow, ragged, agonizing gasp of a dying woman. It was a deep, powerful inhalation that seemed to draw all the ambient air in the room into her lungs.

Her eyes snapped open.

They weren’t the tired, clouded eyes of Mary McDonald, the frail mother from the slums of Johannesburg. They were sharp, piercing, and filled with an ancient, terrifying clarity. They were the eyes of an apex predator waking from a long, enforced slumber.

The ambient shadows in the corners of the ruined medical bay suddenly detached themselves from the walls. They slithered across the floor like living things, drawn toward the surgical table, swirling around Morrigan’s body in a protective, reverent embrace.

The SS-Rank Shadow Weaver had returned.

Morrigan slowly sat up. The movement was fluid, effortless, devoid of the stiffness and pain that had plagued her for years. She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. The shadows danced across her knuckles, responding to her will with absolute, terrifying obedience.

She looked up, her piercing gaze sweeping across the room. She saw Vane kneeling on the floor, Fraser gripping his broadsword, and Isla standing behind the cracked blast shield. Finally, her eyes settled on the masked leader of Eden.

"Malachi," Morrigan said. Her voice was smooth, melodic, and carried a subtle, underlying resonance that made the shadows in the room vibrate. "How long?"

"Eighteen years, Morrigan," Malachi replied, bowing his head deeply in a gesture of profound respect. "Welcome back to the waking world."

Morrigan closed her eyes for a brief second, processing the sheer weight of the time she had lost. When she opened them again, the terrifying aura of the Shadow Weaver receded slightly, replaced by the frantic, desperate concern of a mother.

"Glen," she said, her voice tightening. She looked around the room, searching the faces of the Hunters. "Where is my son? Where is Glen?"

Isla stepped out from behind the blast shield. She holstered her pistols, her hands trembling slightly as she approached the legendary Champion.

"He isn’t here," Isla said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "He’s the one who sent the core. He found it in a black-site, halfway across the world."

Morrigan’s eyes locked onto Isla. The intensity of her gaze was paralyzing. "Where is he, Isla? Where did he go?"

"Neo-Kyoto," Malachi answered, stepping forward. "He traveled to the Eastern Spire to hunt the Female Noble. He went into the void to save Caleb Sterling."

Morrigan’s breath caught in her throat. The shadows around her flared aggressively, reacting to her sudden spike of fear. "The void? He stepped into the domain of The Lost? He’s just a boy, Malachi! His core is fractured, he can’t survive the entropy of that dimension!"

"He is not a boy anymore, Morrigan," Malachi said gently. "And his core is no longer fractured. The void fragment he absorbed... he didn’t just control it. He mastered it. He achieved S-Rank."

Morrigan froze. The shadows around her stilled completely.

"S-Rank," she whispered, the word carrying a heavy, devastating weight. She looked down at her hands, the realization of what her son had become washing over her. "He broke the limit. He embraced the rot."

"He did it to save you," Isla said, stepping closer to the table. "He did it to save Caleb. He tore through the Astra Guild’s elite forces, robbed the Celestial Tower, and sent the cure back to us. He paid the price so we wouldn’t have to."

"And where is he now?" Morrigan asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register. "If he sent the core, why didn’t he come back with it?"

"Because Caleb didn’t want to be saved," Isla said, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks. "Glen sent a transmission before the drop. He said Caleb was gone. The void took his mind. Glen stayed in Neo-Kyoto. He’s waging a one-man war against the Astra Guild."

Morrigan closed her eyes, a profound, heartbreaking sorrow etching itself into her features. She had vanished into the shadows to protect her son from the brutal reality of the world, to keep him hidden from the Guilds and the Monarchs. And now, her son had willingly walked into the darkest, most dangerous city on the planet, armed with the very power she had tried to shield him from.

She opened her eyes, the sorrow burning away, replaced by a cold, absolute determination.

"The Astra Guild," Morrigan said, her voice echoing with the lethal promise of the Shadow Weaver. "Empress Ryun’s lapdogs. They think they can experiment with the rot. They think they can control the void."

She swung her legs off the surgical table, her bare feet touching the cold stone floor. The shadows instantly wrapped around her, forming a sleek, elegant combat suit of condensed dark mana.

"They have no idea what the dark truly hides," Morrigan whispered.

She looked at Malachi, her eyes burning with S-Rank power. "The Monarchs of the Lost will feel the resonance of Glen’s core. They will know a new Sovereign has been crowned. And Arthur... Arthur will feel it too. The Vanguard is going to mobilize."

"What are your orders, Morrigan?" Malachi asked, standing at attention.

"We prepare for war," Morrigan commanded, her voice ringing through the subterranean bunker. "We gather every Hunter, every scavenger, every survivor in this ruined city who is willing to fight. We rebuild Eden into an army."

She turned to Isla, her expression softening slightly. She reached out, placing a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

"My son is fighting alone in the Eastern Spire," Morrigan said. "He thinks he has to carry the weight of the world by himself. We are going to prove him wrong. We are going to tear down the Guilds, we are going to break the shields, and we are going to bring him home."

Isla looked into the eyes of the legend, feeling the absolute, unyielding resolve radiating from the Shadow Weaver. The grief and the helplessness that had plagued Isla for weeks vanished, replaced by a fierce, burning purpose.

"Tell me what to do," Isla said.

The war for the survival of humanity had officially begun. And Eden was no longer hiding in the shadows.