It had been three years since Andreas's first purge, and once again he lay on the familiar stone of the arena grounds. Above him, the Divine magic circle glowed faintly in the pale sky, its intricate lines unchanged. The arena itself was exactly as it had always been — worn earth, cracked stone pillars, and the faint metallic scent of old battles. Even the surrounding territory looked the same.
And he was the same as well.
That was what irritated him. For nearly five years now, Andreas Valekor had remained stuck at the *elite* level of spearmanship, unable to ascend to the long-desired rank of *master*. Four long years of stagnation — an agony sharper than any wound. If he ever voiced this frustration aloud, most people would probably faint on the spot.
His growth had been abnormally fast, a monstrous rise by ordinary standards. His peers — the other heirs of the overlords — were still struggling through the intermediate or early-expert stages.
But Andreas did not care about them. His standards were his own, and by those standards, he had been immobile for far too long.
"My strength is not the issue," he muttered under his breath. "Even though I am young, my physical ability already surpasses most elite knights."
He tightened his grip on the grass beneath him.
"My techniques aren't lacking either. They're far more refined than those of most warriors."
He inhaled sharply.
"So why… why can't I reach the master level?"
He fell silent for a long moment.
"…Arden."
A ripple passed through the shade cast by one of the arena pillars, and from it stepped Arden — the Valekor family's butler of three generations, tall, dignified, and eternally composed.
"What troubles you, young master?" he asked, voice deep and respectful.
"Arden…" Andreas stood. "Let's spar."
"…As you wish, Master Andreas."
Arden took several steps back, his boots silent against the stone. A spear materialized from the shadows swirling behind him — elegant, lethal, and perfectly balanced.
*I've never truly seen Arden fight,* Andreas thought. *I know only that he uses a spear… but not how.*
Arden lowered into a stance, his presence steady as an ancient tree.
"Please, master," he said with a slight bow. "Take the first move."
"Don't regret that."
Andreas seized the spear strapped across his back and hurled it with his full might.
Arden watched it approach with calm detachment.
"I know what you intend, young master," he said. "But remember — I have served both your father and your grandfather."
The spear Andreas threw was no ordinary weapon; it was a Valekor heirloom, one that allowed anyone of Valekor blood to alter its trajectory. Arden waited for the inevitable shift in direction.
But the spear simply whistled past him.
Arden's eyes narrowed a fraction — just as Andreas cast **[Rock Bullet]**.
*Clang.*
Arden deflected the spell with a swift, practiced movement.
"A clever attempt, young master," he said, "but insufficient to overcome a master spearman such as myself."
Andreas ignored him entirely and began casting **[Riven Shot]**, a triple water projectile spell known for its long casting time.
"It is unwise to cast while defenseless," Arden warned, beginning his dash forward.
But he had forgotten the initial spear — which was already arcing back, accelerating as it consumed Andreas's mana.
*…With this, I summon the bow and strings of Riven…*
Arden closed the distance swiftly.
"Hoo—"
But just as his strike would have landed, his form dissolved into his own shadow. Andreas was left staring at the heirloom spear screaming toward him with brutal speed. Redirecting it now was impossible.
"Fu—!"
…
When Andreas awoke, he found himself lying on the arena floor once more.
"It was a sound tactic, master," Arden said calmly. "Had it been a touch faster, it may indeed have struck me."
"How…?" Andreas groaned.
"Forgive me, master," Arden replied respectfully. "I do not understand your question."
"What differentiates a master from an elite warrior?"
Arden paused, considering.
"That is not a simple question," he said at last. "But two factors are paramount: spatial awareness… and the will."
"Together, some call them the Seventh Sense."
"And how does one acquire this Seventh Sense?" Andreas asked. He had heard the phrase many times but had never understood how one actually *achieved* it.
"It comes primarily from experience," Arden said. "When I was around my first century — still serving your grandfather — a war raged between us and the druids who then dwelled within the Demonic Forest."
"I know of that war," Andreas said. "But how is it relevant?"
"Druids are cunning foes, young master. They command nature itself, and the forest amplifies their strength."
"They often attacked using the roots beneath our feet. We could barely sense the vibrations before they struck. I was forced to learn how to perceive their movements before they emerged."
Arden looked out toward the forest line as if remembering.
"Spatial awareness is not merely sensing what is near you. It is understanding everything within your reach — beneath the soil, behind walls, even in the blind spots you cannot physically see."
"And the will," he continued, "is the ability to sense your enemy's intent before their action begins. You must know what they mean to do, even before their spell forms."
"For one who attains these two aspects, the master level becomes inevitable."
"So it's simply a matter of experience…"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Then we will spar daily from now on," Andreas declared, "until I reach the master level."
"As you command, master."
…
A full month passed.
Yet Andreas had not landed a single hit.
"The spear is too obvious," he muttered after another failed attempt. "My spells aren't fast enough, and whenever I corner him, he slips into the shadows…"
Arden was a far more troublesome opponent than Andreas had dreamed — though perhaps that was only natural. He had served as the Valekor family's butler for over three generations and had lived nearly four centuries.
Andreas had attempted area-of-effect spells, only for Arden to vanish into his shadows. He once tried burning the entire arena to banish all darkness — but Arden had simply walked through the flames, unscathed, while Andreas himself nearly suffocated.
"It was foolish of me," Andreas muttered afterward, "to expect less from a great demon of his age…"
Still, he refused to relent.
*His shadow ability uses mana.*
*But my mana reserves are smaller — in a battle of endurance, I lose every time.*
*Arden has no innate special abilities… which means this shadow movement is a spell.*
*If I discover which spell it is, I can uncover its weaknesses.*
Andreas rang a bell — not the one used to summon Arden.
A moment later, the head maid entered.
"You called, young master?"
"I did. Summon the head of the Magician Corps. I wish to speak with him — and bring me every book on darkness magic in the library."
"Right away, master."
A short time later, the head of the Magic Corps came.
"You called for me, young master?" he asked.
"I did." Andreas faced him. "Are you familiar with the spell Arden uses?"
"The **Shadow Space**, my lord?"
"So that's its name."
"I know it well," the mage replied. "May I ask why you inquire?"
"I wish to learn its weaknesses — if there are any."
"How could it *not* have weaknesses?" the mage huffed. "It is such a poorly designed spell that I still cannot fathom why that ancient demon insists on using it."
Barderossa cleared his throat, straightening his robe.
"There are two major weaknesses. First: while inside the shadows, the user cannot breathe. They have only a short window before they must exit."
"That will be helpful," Andreas said. "And the second?"
"Well…" The mage hesitated. "It is not exactly a weakness — more of a limitation."
He continued:
"You know how the Head Butler enters one shadow and emerges from another, yes?"
"Yes. He does it often."
"The range of that movement is roughly **twenty meters**. If there is no sufficiently large shadow within that distance, he cannot transition. He must exit the Shadow Space entirely."
"That is very useful information. Anything else?"
"Well… ah, yes. One more thing."
"What is it?"
"Shadow Space is not exclusive to a caster. If two individuals activate it near each other, they enter the *same* shadow realm. They can interact — or even fight — within it."
"Well to be more precise there is only one shadow space you can also call it the shadow world the shadows are just a portal , gate to it."
"I see." Andreas nodded. "That is everything, then?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Then you may go."
After Barderossa exited, the head maid entered, balancing a tower of scrolls and leather-bound tomes.
"These are all the darkness spells from the library, my lord."
"Leave them there," Andreas said softly.
She bowed and withdrew.
Andreas looked over the vast pile of knowledge — ink and parchment that could reshape the next stage of his path.
"So… this is Shadow Space."
With resolute eyes, he began to study.