*****
A shadow emerged.
His hand instinctively hovered over his wristband, where his sword was compactly stored in a high-tech mechanism.
He knew this place wasn’t real—just a Full-Dive Virtual Reality simulation—but everything felt eerily real.
Then it happened.
A faint disturbance in the air.
A barely audible shift in the wind.
Something—no, someone—was moving toward him. Fast.
Before he could process the movement, his body reacted on instinct.
Woosh—!
With a flick of his wrist, his sword materialized instantly, the blade gleaming in the dappled sunlight that managed to slip through the treetops.
Swish—!
His sword cut through the air, aiming straight for the approaching shadow.
A figure froze in place just inches away from his blade.
"Wait...!!"
A frantic voice echoed through the jungle, cutting through the silence like a dagger.
Lyrium’s eyes flickered with recognition.
The figure standing before him, bathed in the soft glow of the VR environment, was none other than Ren—his red-haired friend and fellow first-year student at Deviants Academy.
Ren’s long red ponytail swayed slightly as he raised his hands in surrender, his expression a mix of shock and irritation.
Lyrium, however, did not immediately lower his weapon.
His crimson eyes narrowed, his grip on the hilt still firm.
Ren exhaled sharply.
"Mate, I swear, it’s me!"
He took a careful step back, his eyes locked onto Lyrium’s blade.
"We’re on the same team!"
For a second, Lyrium did not respond.
His mind raced through the information displayed earlier on the system screen:
[Student: Lyrium Blackwood]
[Team: 1 (10/10)]
[Team 1 vs Team 2]
His team had ten members.
Ren was one of them.
Finally, he lowered his sword by a fraction, but his eyes remained sharp.
"You moved too fast,"
Lyrium muttered, his tone carrying a hint of reprimand.
"If you were an enemy, I wouldn’t have hesitated."
Ren clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re one hell of a swordsman,"
He grumbled, shaking his head.
"But seriously, that was way too close. Almost lost my damn head."
With a practiced flick, Lyrium retracted his sword back into the compact device on his wrist.
The tension between them eased slightly, but Ren still looked somewhat rattled.
After a moment, he sighed.
"Anyway, let’s not waste time. We need to regroup with the others."
He gestured toward the dense jungle surrounding them.
"We were all dropped into random locations. Team 2 is probably doing the same thing right now."
Lyrium nodded.
Despite the seemingly peaceful environment, danger lurked behind every tree.
Whether it was the opposing team or hidden mechanics of the VR battlefield, he knew they couldn’t afford to be careless.
He scanned his surroundings, his mind shifting into strategy mode.
"Do you know the locations of any of our teammates?"
He asked, his voice calm yet firm.
Ren nodded.
"Yeah. Before I ran into you, I spotted two people from our team heading east. We should go after them first."
Lyrium considered their options.
The jungle terrain was unpredictable, filled with natural obstacles, hidden vantage points, and potential ambush spots.
If Team 2 had already started forming groups, moving blindly could be dangerous.
Still, they needed to take action.
"Fine,"
Lyrium said, adjusting his wristband.
"Lead the way."
Without wasting another second, Ren turned and took off running.
Lyrium followed close behind, his footsteps barely making a sound as he moved through the jungle with practiced ease.
*****
Alicia’s piercing purple eyes remained fixated on the largest screen, where a live feed of Lyrium and Ren was displayed.
She tapped her fingers against her crossed arms.
"He reacts fast,"
She commented, her tone neutral but carrying a hint of approval.
Professor Eugene, standing beside her, let out a low chuckle.
"Of course he does,"
The older man said.
"He’s not Rank 1 for nothing."
Alicia remained silent, watching as the simulation continued to unfold.
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Other screens displayed different students—some engaged in battles, others still searching for their teams.
But among them, one figure stood out.
A young woman with raven-bkack hair, sitting on a thick tree branch, her expression unreadable as she observed the battlefield below.
Margaret Windsor.
Alicia’s gaze flickered toward the girl’s profile.
"She’s furious,"
Eugene noted, following Alicia’s gaze.
"She wanted to be Rank 1, and now she has something to prove."
Alicia sighed.
"If she lets her emotions cloud her judgment, she won’t last long."
*****
Lyrium and Ren had been running for several minutes when Ren suddenly raised his hand in a signal to stop.
Both of them crouched behind a fallen log, their breathing controlled, listening intently.
From a distance, faint voices could be heard.
Lyrium carefully peeked through the leaves.
Two figures stood in a small clearing, engaged in a hushed conversation.
Ren recognized them immediately.
"They’re with us,"
They whispered. "Team 1."
Lyrium nodded, but before they could step out, something else caught his eye.
A shadow, moving behind the trees, barely noticeable.
His instincts screamed—
They weren’t alone.
Someone from Team 2 was already lurking nearby.
Lyrium’s hand went to his sword, his muscles tensing.
The battle was about to begin.
And this was only the start of the 2nd Arc.
*****
In an isolated, dimly lit chamber, the air was thick with a dark, oppressive aura, as if the very walls pulsed with malevolent energy.
The only source of light came from a flickering lantern in the corner, its weak glow barely illuminating the figures within.
The atmosphere smelled of burnt tobacco and cold steel, a scent that mingled with the faint, almost imperceptible, metallic tang of blood.
Seated on a large, throne-like chair, made of blackened iron, was a man who radiated pure authority.
His raven-black hair cascaded over his shoulders, barely brushing against the intricately embroidered dark robe he wore.
A long cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, the red ember glowing softly as he took a slow, measured drag.
Wisps of gray smoke curled in the air, forming swirling patterns before fading into the oppressive darkness.
His eyes, cold and calculating, stared blankly ahead, yet they held an underlying intensity—one that suggested he saw far more than anyone dared to assume.
He exhaled slowly, the smoke escaping from his lips like a whisper of death.
Then, from within the shadows of the room, a figure emerged.
Draped in black, blending almost seamlessly with the darkness, the newcomer moved with trained silence, his presence nearly unnoticeable if not for the soft shift of fabric against the cold stone floor.
He kneeled immediately upon approach, his head bowed in deference.
"Leader,"
The figure spoke, his voice steady but tinged with unease.
"One of our groups has gone missing in the Black Market..."
He hesitated for a brief moment before adding,
"To be frank, they are likely dead."
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
The Leader, unfazed, simply took another long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a level of indifference that was almost chilling.
His fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair, the faint clicking of his nails against metal the only sound in the chamber.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.
"Missing?"
His voice was deep, smooth, yet laced with an unmistakable edge of lethality.
The kneeling figure swallowed hard before nodding.
"Yes. They were last seen handling negotiations with a smuggler regarding the recent batch of illegal artifacts. But after the agreed-upon meeting time... no one returned. Their communication signal was cut off completely."
A slight shift in aura sent a ripple through the air, as if the very shadows in the room stirred in response to the Leader’s changing mood.
The man flicked the cigarette away with a careless motion, the ember dying out the moment it hit the stone floor.
His lips curved ever so slightly—not into a smile, but something far more unsettling.
"Who were they negotiating with?"
The kneeling subordinate stiffened before responding.
"A man named Valco. A known broker in the underground circuits. Ruthless, but reliable when the price is right."
The Leader leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest, fingers interlacing as he studied his subordinate with an expression that was both calm and terrifyingly unreadable.
"And tell me,"
Jis voice dropped to a low murmur,
"Do you believe in coincidences?"
The subordinate hesitated, a bead of sweat forming on his temple.
"No, sir."
The Leader’s dark gaze sharpened, his amusement vanishing.
"Then you should already know what this means."
A wave of cold realization passed through the room.
This wasn’t just a disappearance. It was a message.
Someone was challenging them.
And that was a mistake.
The Leader rose from his chair in a slow, deliberate motion.
His movements were eerily graceful, yet carried a weight of undeniable authority.
"Gather our enforcers,"
He ordered, his tone smooth yet absolute.
"We’re paying Valco a visit."
The kneeling subordinate bowed immediately, his voice firm.
"Understood, Leader."
And with that, he melted back into the shadows, vanishing as if he were never there.
The Leader, now alone in the dimly lit chamber, reached into his robe and pulled out another cigarette.
He lit it with a flick of his fingers, the small flame momentarily illuminating his face.
As he took another slow drag, his lips curled into something close to a smirk.
"Let’s see how long they last."
*****