He should feel something—pride, accomplishment. He is projected to be the top of his class. But it doesn't feel earned. The shadow fought for him. The shadow killed for him.
Some nights, he stares at the floor and flexes his fingers, willing his hands to feel like his own again. They don't.
Then, the red-haired man appears in his room once more.
Kage doesn't flinch this time. He doesn't ask why or how. He simply meets the man's amused gaze and demands, "Who are you and what the hell have you done to me?"
The man places a hand over his chest, mockingly formal. "Kagawa Masaki. A voice. A vessel. A mere extension of Lucifer's will."
Kagawa walks closer to Kage, letting his words settle on Kage's ears like a heavy fog. "I have done nothing. Lucifer has blessed you the same way he has blessed me to be his vessel."
Kage clenches his fists. "Am I supposed to be another vessel for this Lucifer you keep mentioning?"
"No," Kagawa responds, his voice silky smooth. "A soldier for Lucifer and his inevitable return."
Kage's brow furrows. "Return? What are you talking about?"
Kagawa paces slowly, his movements unnaturally fluid. "The stories you've heard about Lucifer are twisted truths. He wasn't cast out for rebellion alone. He was banished from divinity for attempting to free humans from the reign of the angels."
He stops, turning to face Kage with an intensity that feels almost physical. "Lucifer gave concepts to humanity—taught them to wield power that was once reserved for divine beings. He gave humans the means to determine their own fate."
Kage scoffs. "I don't need the help of the devil to reach my goals."
Kagawa chuckles. "Oh, but you already did, child. You already prayed to the moon." He steps closer, voice smooth like silk. "And Lucifer does not grant favors freely. He will come to collect."
Kage shakes his head. "I don't belong to him."
Kagawa's grin widens. "Then how do you explain that?" He gestures downward.
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Kage follows his gaze—and his breath catches. His shadow.
It no longer moves like it used to. It lingers, twisting unnaturally at his feet, shifting even when he stands still.
"It belongs to him already," Kagawa says, voice filled with amusement. "You belong to him already."
Kage's nails dig into his palms. No. He refuses to accept it.
"I will regain control of it. I don't need Lucifer."
Kagawa laughs. Not in amusement, but in certainty. "You will see, child. You will see." Then, with a flicker of movement, he is gone.
As soon as he is alone, Kage breathes heavily. He tries to move his shadow, to command it—
But it resists him.
A cold dread settles deep inside him. Kagawa's words were not just taunts. They were truth.
In the following weeks, Kage forces himself to interact with the other recruits. His shadow still tries to kill.
At first, it lashes out when someone walks too close, when someone meets his gaze for too long. But Kage fights it back.
The Guild's advanced classes teach crucial mana control techniques—methods of refining, conserving, and directing one's concept through precise focus. These techniques are typically meant for mastering offensive abilities, but Kage repurposes them for containment.
Through painful trial and error, Kage discovers important patterns in the shadow's behavior:
- It never attacks Kage himself, seemingly programmed to protect its host.
- It responds aggressively to anything Kage perceives as a threat, even subconsciously.
- Its actions are tied to his emotional state—fear, anger, and stress make it more volatile.
Kage begins a rigorous regimen of meditation and emotional suppression. He spends hours each night in a trance-like state, forcing his mana to circulate in precise patterns through his body. The process is excruciating—like trying to redirect a raging river with bare hands.
When his emotions spike, the shadow lashes out. So he learns to feel nothing.
He manages his mana carefully, reigning it in with every ounce of control he has left. By concentrating his mana in his core and maintaining an inner void of emotion, he creates a state where the shadow becomes slightly more responsive to his will.
It is exhausting, but he does it.
His peers take notice. They are still afraid of him. Whenever Kage makes an awkward joke in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, his face strains—not from embarrassment, but from actively suppressing his shadow from reacting.
His classmates nod nervously, forcing laughter, then glance at each other with the same unspoken thought—Kage is weird.
The cadre overseeing training notice as well. They report to the elders, stunned at his progress.
"He controls it now," one of them remarks. "He makes it listen."
"His growth is beyond anything we expected," another agrees. "At this rate, he may even surpass Emi."
The room falls silent at that. Emi had been untouchable. The very idea that Kage could surpass her is... unsettling.
"But his shadow is still unpredictable," one elder finally says. "It acts on its own at times."
They exchange glances. They cannot allow an assassin whose abilities cannot be fully controlled to graduate unchecked.
"We will test him one last time."
A final assessment is decided—a battle of attrition. If Kage allows his shadow to go wild, he will deplete his mana and die. He must prove that he can manage his power, that he can endure without relying on the force that has carried him this far.
If he fails, he is unworthy of being the top assassin.
The decision is made.
Kage does not yet know it, but before he can graduate, he will have to face the hardest challenge of his life. He will either master his shadow—or let it consume him.