When facing death, one must take care that their body does not betray them. Before an overwhelming threat, the body will freeze, weapons can slip from sweat-soaked palms, and uneven breathing causes focus to slacken. To become truly strong, mastery of the body must be achieved.


    Alvan was long past worrying about such things. As he slinked through the dark, his focus remained crystal clear, and his heart steady. When he placed a hand on a crude column and peered around the corner, he left no residue. His body had long left behind such mortal needs as sweating or leaving scents. When he spotted a patrol, there was no point in holding his breath as he activated [The Space Inbetween] and no longer existed in the same reality.


    The labyrinthine walls of the great hall turned from raw stone to glossy obsidian-like material. Alvan knew from experience that if he peered into that crystal, he would see countless faces screaming in agony. The towering ceiling many spans above grew taller and were lost in absolute blackness. The light lent by the braziers retreated and became pinpricks in an all-consuming night. An oppressive silence descended which seemed to swallow all sound. It would have been impossible to navigate had it not been for [Shadow Sympathy], which gave him an intuitive sense of what lay in the dark.


    No matter how many times Alvan ventured here, it always unnerved him on a primal level. There was constantly an omnipresent sensation of being watched, a constant brushing against the edge of his senses. The place radiated hostility, a disdain for all things corporeal. Alvan never lingered here if he could help it. Many past holders of his ability who made a habit of overstaying never left.


    In this place, the imposing bodies of the Ahsmati patrol turned insubstantial, mere wraiths of their former selves. Curiously, the heart, nervous system, and brain remained largely visible though much redder than reality. A fact that had helped him identify weaknesses previously. Alvan was confident that he could take out the entire patrol. Whether he could do so before they raised the alarm was another question altogether. It was better to risk leaving them alone.


    He triggered [Shadow Meld] and dived into a nearby shadow. It enveloped him with nary a ripple, warm and smothering. Alvan felt a current sweep him along and he wormed forward and breached a membrane. With an effort he extracted himself from the dark, now a fair distance behind the patrol. Strands of shadow stuff clung stubbornly to his frame and he crept forward. They resisted for a second, then relinquished their hold and snapped back to the shadow. It would now be on cooldown for a few seconds — a veritable eternity at his rank. He only risked it because he was within sight of the exit — and because the whispers had started. They spoke with innumerable voices and were too discordant to understand. Which was good.


    Bad things happened when he could hear them.


    Ignored them, he turned the corner and sighted the exit. A pair of intricately engraved doors lay before him, large enough that several wagons could pass through abreast. Alvan nearly dropped [The Space Inbetween] when an enemy turned into view.


    It was often hard to read the expression of an Ahsmati in the best of times. Their beastial features did not have the capacity nor decency to form Sūnsian expressions. However, even he could interpret the bulging eyes and gaping maw as a sign he had been noticed. Already the creature was recovering and was preparing to bellow. It must possess a high level and specialized abilities to keep up with him. Alvan would have liked to leave without leaving a trace, but this looked to no longer be possible.


    Alvan drew his Lōvuh from its modified scroll case and unfurled its wide ribbon-like length in one smooth flick, letting it droop to the floor. He used [Animate] and whipped it forward. The Lōvuh extended to its full length, about a dozen paces, and reached towards the Ahsmati''s throat. To its credit, it was able to draw its sword and attempt to block the Lōvuh, but the insubstantial length phased through the blade to plunge into the creature''s neck.


    As soon as Alvan saw the tip exit the nape of its neck, he ended [The Space Inbetween]. The Ahsmati stopped dead and clutched at its neck with a faint gurgle. Then it collapsed like a rock. The upper half of the sword, some fingers, and the head separated from the body.


    Alvan darted forward and grabbed the corpse with one hand, grunting as he bore a weight many times his own. With the other hand, he caught the fingers and head in rapid succession, then he kicked forward to catch the severed blade with the flat of his foot. Balancing on his one remaining leg, he gently lowered them to the ground.


    He strained his senses for any sign of alarm from the patrol he had just passed but was relieved when their footsteps continued without interruption. It was now only a matter of time before someone found this. It was time to be off.


    Alvan braced himself to use [The Space Inbetween] again. Usually, Alvan wouldn’t dare use it in such quick succession. However, he was in the middle of enemy territory and about to cross into the heart of their camp. The tidings he brought were critical enough to risk it. The shadowlands returned and Alvan darted through the gate to the outside.


    He found himself in the middle of a simple plaza surrounded by simple cloth yurts. From their openings came the sounds of the Verunian tongue, punctuated by growls and yips. In the far distance loomed a massive earthen wall crested by enormous stones that formed a crude imitation of a parapet and crenels. Massive shapes in the distance, far dwarfing even the largest yurts, patrolled the walls. It was those that he needed to avoid above all.


    It was dangerous to linger here, so he used [The Space Inbetween] again and sprinted. He made it to the space between two yurts before it was too much and canceled the [Ability]. The whispers had grown loud enough that he had begun to understand them. The knowledge that he had learned, he would have rather not known such things.


    Alvan wasn’t willing to risk retreating into that space for a good long while so he relied on his mundane stealth skills to begin making his way over to the wall. Amongst these lower-level grunts, it was more than enough. He had nearly made it to the wall when an earth-shattering roar that prickled every single one of his hairs sounded. The entire camp fell silent for an instant before it was answered in kind by a thousand, thousand voices.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I''ve been made.


    Throwing caution to the wind, he sprinted to the wall in a fraction of a second and readied himself. He hated doing this but he saw no other option. Hopefully, enough time had passed. He activated [The Space Inbetween] and placed one hand against the earth of the wall.


    It resisted him for an instant, then it was as if his fingers had broken a membrane and his arm sunk into the earth. It was quickly followed by his shoulder and the rest of his body soon after. Alvan swam through the material darkness, which was roughly the consistency of cold honey, with practiced strokes. Even given the fact that he only really needed to take a breath once every hour, he felt trapped and Alvan fought to keep his fear contained. The encroaching whispers certainly did not help either.


    If it wasn’t for [Shadow Sympathy] then he would be completely in the dark. As it were, [Shadow Sympathy] let him have a seventh sense of all shadows around him relative to his position. There were no shadows inside this artificial hill or beneath him, so he could tell where the surface was. More importantly, shadows that moved correspond to an enemy.


    So he simply needed to exit at a spot with no moving shadows before he was consumed.


    Alvan had identified one such spot but was concerned he wouldn''t make it. This was the longest he had ever spent in [The Space Inbetween] and the whispers were reaching a crescendo. They almost sounded gleeful and he was doing damnest to ignore them. Muscles screaming, he crossed the last few spans in a burst and slithered out of the in-between, slopping to the ground. Right before he fully exited, he felt a searing pain from his ankle.


    Alvan staggered to his feet and inspected his injured foot. Three parallel gashes cut straight through the enchanted cloth of his breeches as if it were parchment paper. Already, it started to weep droplets of blood. Though less than he expected for a cut of that size. Looking closer, he realized that the edges of the wound were necrotized. This was bad, even that little blood would attract attention. He needed to get away from here fast.


    Stretching before him was a wasteland pockmarked by years of conflict. So far that even his vision could only make out shapes, was an opposing network of trenches. It was there that his objective lay.


    [Shadow Meld] was off cooldown so he picked up the farthest shadow he could see, one cast by a thoroughly burned-down house a stone''s throw from the trenches. Alvan fell back into his own shadow and was hiding behind a soot-covered brick wall an instant later. A wave of tiredness hit him an instant later as nearly all of his mana was drained. That teleport had been on the edge of his maximum range.


    He began to creep towards an old trench left over from a previous frontline when instinct caused him to activate the [The Space Inbetween]. A near-instant later, the ground beneath him was obliterated as several spells struck where he had been. He exited the shadowy realm inside the old trench but suffered another necrotic cut across his back for his transgression.


    The projectiles simply followed him. Damn, they must have a sensory specialist. Alvan judged that the earth magic reinforced trench was only going to hold a few more seconds under this assault. He needed to do something drastic.


    He activated [Shadow Sympathy]''s active for the first time and used it to shape the darkness of the trench. All of the nearby shadows were drawn into a small nucleus in front of him, making the trench look as if it were lit under flat lighting. Alvan poured his [Attributes], [Abilities], [Traits], and even some nonessential [Skills] into the nucleus, leaving him little more than mortal. He cut off the [Ability] and the nucleus expanded, then shifted into a near-perfect replica of him. Wounds and all.


    When he had finished, he dropped to his knees. That move had cost him the rest of his stamina and he was out of mana, leaving him a wreck. Alvan inspected his clone. There had been some small losses in combat strength as [Shadow Sympathy] could currently only transfer seven parts in ten of his potential. However, for anyone who did not know him intimately the difference should be imperceptible.


    Dirt cascaded over him as a large crack ran down the stone wall of the trench. He was out of time.


    There was no need for discussion, the copy had been created knowing what it had to do. It dashed away at a speed that was blinding to his current senses while Alvan focused on suppressing his presence. It was easy enough since he was nearly tapped out. Through the tenuous connection he shared with the clone, he could see that it had multiple enemies hot on its tail. It had taken some hits, but his mimicry extended even to injuries. It seemed all of his ranged attackers had shifted their attention to the decoy


    Typical Ahsmati, thinking with their blood and not their heads. The only reason we are losing this war is simply because of their numbers. Alvan abandoned his cover and snuck through the trench. That won''t be happening for much longer, with this intelligence we should be able to —


    He blacked out for an instant and when he next came to, was pressed against a wall. There was an all-consuming pain in the center of his chest. He looked down in stupefaction to see a large spear had pierced through his chest and into the stone behind him. He could see a purple liquid dripping from the shaft and the skin around the spear was beginning to blacken.


    Breath drawing short, he looked into the distance, hoping to at least get a look at his killer. Standing atop the earthen ramparts was a human woman, not an Ahsmati like he had been expecting. She was muscular, towering, and wore crude animal skins. Several similar spears to the one impaling him were strung across her back. It was too far but make out her features, but that didn''t matter. He knew her.


    The Huntress. Of course, she wouldn''t be fooled by that. That thrice-damned traitor.


    Desperately, he canceled [Shadow Sympathy] and tried to dislodge the spear with his renewed stats, but his fingers didn''t have the strength to get a hold. There was no feeling left in them. He tried to activate [The Space Inbetween] but lacked the mana for activation. Up above, the Huntress had turned around and left.


    Alvan let his limbs go limp. He had no strength left in them anyway. I am really going to die, aren’t I?


    The veteran of hundreds of missions, Alvan had made peace with such a fate. However, there was one issue that did not let him pass peacefully. Alvan dipped a finger into his wound had began writing a message on the spear shaft.


    Calamity. Otherworldly. Oppor —