"Who are you?"

Thunder Slash’s voice was tight with caution. Her gaze locked onto the twelve shadowy figures before her—humanoid yet unnaturally distorted, radiating an eerie pressure. Arcs of electricity flickered across her palms, ready for anything.

Moments ago, she’d been sitting quietly in the conference room. Then, like phantoms, the twelve shadows materialized atop the seats ahead. Her nerves snapped taut. She slammed the hidden alarm beneath the table, praying everyone in the Twelfth District branch would evacuate in time. She couldn’t take on this many alone.

One shadow rose slowly. Its form writhed, shifted, gradually mirroring Thunder Slash’s silhouette. Even more unnerving—electric arcs danced across its palms too. A perfect copy.

"You owe me royalties, got it!" Thunder Slash roared. Confused but furious at such blatant plagiarism, she moved the instant the words left her lips—and so did the shadow.

Their motions were identical. Palms crackling, twin storms of lightning collided in the dark. Each clash erupted in deafening thunder. Furniture shattered into splinters and ash. The heavy wooden table exploded; chairs vaporized into scorched outlines. Smoke and ozone choked the air. The entire room lay in ruins.

Identical—strength, motion, power, skill.

"Who *are* you?!"

Silent, the shadow swung a fist wreathed in lightning. Their bodies vanished inside a swirling vortex of thunderous light.

*BOOM!*

Two silver bolts tore through the ceiling of the Twelfth District branch, roaring skyward. The gloomy heavens flashed bright as day.

Against the endless sky, both figures moved with lethal grace, silhouettes blazing in electric radiance. Thunder Slash clenched her fist—arcs coiled like a silver fire dragon. The shadow flickered, half-melted into the darkness.

Lightning clashed. A net of thunder wove between them. Every strike aimed to kill. Thunder Slash lunged; the shadow dodged, countering with a spear of dark lightning.

"Copying *this* too?" She seized the spear. Scorching arcs unraveled under her grip, drifting behind her like fading threads. With a flick of her wrist, they surged back—dozens of brilliant beams converging into a colossal cross of lightning.

"Lightning flows, cross spear strike! Thunder of myriad realms, judgment of roaring lightning!"

The celestial cross tore the sky apart. Air compressed with a shriek. The shadow staggered back, disheveled.

"Die!"

*RUMBLE!*

The cross shot forward like divine judgment—until the distant sky dimmed. An invisible ripple swallowed the horizon.

"The Abyss… Tch. Too many problems. I’ll handle *that* after this."

The cross slammed down. Silence.

"Done… hah."

As she turned toward the Abyss, a faint arc *popped*. Sparks reignited the air.

The shadow had dissolved into pure lightning—just like when *she* broke through Chapter Three.

A madwoman. Cut from the same cloth.

It formed a "two" with its fingers. Round two. Losing wasn’t scary. Death was.

Thunder Slash’s spear slashed like a dragon breaching waves. The shadow darted as living lightning.

"She’s stronger now."

Heart pounding, she gathered every ounce of strength.

"Lightning flows, cross spear strike! Thunder of myriad realms, judgment of roaring lightning!"

—but the voice wasn’t hers. The shadow chanted *her* Magic Spell. Without a Magic Stone.

Familiar cross-lightning filled her vision. *She* was the challenger now.

"Shield, protect—"

No time. She’d always relied on speed, on overwhelming force. But the shadow mirrored her perfectly—faster, sharper. Her spear felt dull. Every move countered.

*This enemy… is me.*

The cross in her pupils swelled. Defeat was certain.

"Damn it."

She gritted her teeth, dissolving into lightning—but the shadow did too. Arcs yanked backward. Her form, incomplete, split cleanly into four.

She plummeted. Body shattered, barely reassembled mid-fall. No strength left. But she’d never let a threat walk.

"Damn it—I’m taking you with me!"

With her last breath, she became pure light. They collided. Dissolved. Intertwined.

Space warped. Air crackled. Time froze.

Sunlight bent under an invisible ripple.

Slowly, lightning strands reformed—a shadow, half a head remaining. Still alive. Non-human.

"You are strong."

Exhausted, it tumbled into the crater and closed its eyes.

Meanwhile, eleven shadows drifted leisurely through the base. The leader paused—then rippled with something new: joy.

"Humans remain weak. But *she*… not bad. To shatter Father’s vessel like this… Still. A fragment remains. We revive. This attack? Nothing."

It reached a metal door. No barrier. Shadows seeped through the gap.

Inside the modest shelter, all staff huddled—Blade and Qianchun included.

Qianchun spotted them first. Clutching her Magic Stone, white light threaded with a cool breeze crawled across her skin.

"Please… let it work…"

Before her Magic Armor fully formed, a shadow punched her flying.

"She carries Father’s scent."

"Just mad monkeys… Hmm. She may be useful. The rest—kill."

The leader tossed Qianchun aside and faced Blade, who stood firm, Arcane Firearms raised, knowing resistance was futile.

"You seem their leader. Hmm… Someone’s coming. Decent strength."

Two shadows stepped forward toward the shattered ceiling. A half-black, half-white figure landed smoothly in the ruined conference room. Their eyes locked onto the newcomers.

"Are these the culprits?"

"If enemies, no words, little sister."

"Blade’s still inside. They’re many."

"Then ignore them!"

They smashed through the distorted shadows and charged underground.

The leader frowned—then swallowed Blade whole. Human skin sprouted across its black form, filling Blade’s clothes.

Lujin Lushi burst into the shelter.

Blade stared in terror at the eight shadows before her.