Chapter 19 The Walls of a Padded Cell

On the other side was a vast, circular lobby. Inside, three Pro Wizards stood ready.

"Hold it right there, villain! This facility is under the protection of the Pro Wizard Association!" 

It was Bolt-Knight, the Number 8, a muscular man whose body sparked with arcs of yellow lightning. 

"Take one more step and you will be subdued!" shouted Steel Weaver, the Number 9, a woman who already had steel cables sprouting from the floor at her feet.

"Identify yourself!" commanded Cryo-Glazer, the Number 10, his hands already sheathed in gloves of glistening, absolute-zero ice.

The man didn't stop walking. A low, mocking laugh echoed in the room, distorted and hollow as he crossed the threshold. A shroud of black shadow erupted from his body, concealing him completely in a shifting, dark aura.

"You just look at this. The great Pro Wizard Association sent some of their pro wizards to guard a relic of such immense power... and they post the bottom of the Top Ten. Not your precious Witch King. Not even the top five."

He came to a stop in the center of the room, the shadows around him pulsing with overwhelming power.

"Tell me. Is this an insult to me? Or to the artifact you're about to fail to protect?"

"We don't need the Top Five to handle trash like you! LIGHTNING FANG!" Bolt-Knight roared, lunging forward, his fist becoming a spear of concentrated thunder.

At the same instant, Steel Weaver whipped her hands forward. 

"ENSNARING STEEL PRISON!" Thick cables shot from every surface, binding the intruder.

Cryo-Glazer slammed his palms together.

 "ABSOLUTE ZERO IMPACTOOOO!" A wave of cold force shot forth, freezing the very air in the man's direction but he didn't even seem to look at them.

"Black Spear Coffin," he whispered.

The world went dark.

An enormous, perfect cube of absolute blackness instantly encased the entire lobby, swallowing all light, all sound. The lightning, the steel cables, the ice—all were snuffed out in a microsecond. The three Pro Wizards were plunged into a void so profound it felt like the end of existence.

Then, from every inch of the enclosing darkness—the walls, the ceiling, the floor—countless spears of solidified shadow shot inward. There was no room to dodge. No time to scream.

THWIP. THWIP. THWIP-THWIP-THWIP.

The black cube dissolved as suddenly as it had appeared.

The man stood untouched in the center of the lobby. The three Pro Wizards lay defeated around him, their combined assault having lasted less than three seconds.

He adjusted his hat, the shadows around him receding.

"Not even a warm-up. Ah-ha, how low Pro Wizard association have fallen. Looks like these days they take anyone as Pro Wizard. Even trash from the street. It almost makes me think it's a trap."

He continued his unhurried walk towards the inner vault, the path now clear. Magically charged laser cannons emerged from the ceiling, their targeting systems painting red dots on his chest. He didn't even glance at them. A snap of his fingers sent tendrils of shadow that slithered into their barrels, and they sparked, smoked, and fell silent.

Another set of blast doors slid shut before him. He placed a single finger on the reinforced alloy. A spiderweb of black cracks spread from the point of contact, and the entire door crumbled into metal scrap.

"Impressive defensive measures. Even S-tier villain would struggle. Hmmm... I guess this would have been a bit too much to handle for ancient shadows, assuming the second facility is guarded as well as this one was. Oh well, it no matter now, just have to go and get it myself."

Finally, he reached the innermost sanctum. In the center of the bare, circular room, suspended in a cage of interlocking, prismatic energy beams, was the artifact.

He ignored the complex locking mechanism and the kill-switches. He simply reached through the energy cage. The beams screeched and flickered, desperately trying to burn his shadow-cloaked arm, but they could not touch him. His fingers closed around the artifact.

He pulled it free. The energy cage died with a pathetic fizzle.

He examined it for a moment, turning it over in his gloved hand.

 "Ahhh, there it is. One down, one more to go."

He turned and walked back the way he came. As he reached the shattered entrance of the facility, he paused. He glanced back at the high-tech fortress.

"Best to leave no evidence." 

He flicked his hand, conjuring a single, marble-sized sphere of condensed dark energy. He tossed it over his shoulder without a second look as he stepped into a waiting void that swirled open before him.

A second later, the sphere detonated reducing the facility to pile of rubble.

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The Next Day, Hospital

Consciousness returned to Shota slowly, like a fog lifting from a still lake. He blinked, his eyes focusing on the familiar, sterile white of a hospital ceiling. A deep, heavy ache griped his entire body.

"Where...? Where... am I? The academy? No... this is a... hospital. Why am I in a hospital?"

Then, the memories slammed into him with the force of a physical blow. The Kaiju. The ambush. The Ancient Shadows.

"The transport... flipping. The Shadows. Instructor... bleeding. Enji... his arm... Mirai-chan... her dress shattered... They were dying. All of them. Right in front of me. And then... nothing. Just... white. What happened after that? Did they...?

A cold panic began to claw its way up his throat. Were they alive? Had he failed again? He tried to sit up, but his body felt like lead.

"Hey, Shota-chan."

The voice was faint, like a radio signal from a distant star. But it was inside his head.

"You're finally awake. Can you hear me now? Hello? Can you finally hear me? Hello? Hey, hey, hey! Shota-chan! Your mana has recovered! You should be able to hear me now! Come on, hello?!"

His lips moved, forming the words in a dry, disbelieving whisper to the empty room.

"That voice, I know this voice... Witch... Queen...?"

"Ara, ma! There you are! Yes, it's me! Don't sound so surprised. Did you forget all about yesterday? I used your body to take care of some bad shadows. I ended up using all of your mana, that's why you end up in the hospital. You really need to work on your mana reserves, Shota-chan. Ten seconds. I barely had time to take a walk!"

Shota stared at the ceiling, the sterile white suddenly feeling like the walls of a padded cell. The voice in his head was so clear, so real. It was the final straw.

A hollow, broken laugh escaped his lips. It was a dry, depressed sound.

"So... this is it. I've finally lost it. Completely. First the nightmares, then the world gone gray, drowning in static, the blood on my hands... now the voice. I'm hearing the ghost of a dead woman in my head. I've officially gone insane."

The panic was gone, replaced by a chilling, numb acceptance. This was his new reality. A never-ending nightmare where the past wouldn't just haunt him; it would talk back now.

"Ah-ha~! Fine, fine. I can see you're going to be a stubborn one. You leave me no choice then. It won't be as grand as when I appeared to beat up those shadow bullies, but it will have to do."

Before the whisper had fully faded from his mind, the black rose tattoo on his hand flickered with a familiar pink flame. She manifested right on the hospital bed beside him. She lay on her side, her beautiful, serene face mere inches from his, her long, flowing black hair spilling across the white sheets and artfully covering her naked body. Her eyes, pools of gentle light, looked directly into his, seeing the depth of his despair.

She reached out a single, slender finger and gently booped the tip of his nose.

"See, Shota-chan? I am real."

She let her finger rest on his cheek, her touch warm and solid.

"Can you feel my touch? I am not your imagination. I am not a ghost. I am here. I was always with you. Inside you. That day, in the toy store... I did not die, silly. Not completely. In my final moment, I sealed the core of my soul, my magic, my very being, inside you. You were my only hope. I survived thanks to you. If not for you, I would have been truly lost that day."

A faint, mock-stern look crossed her face. 

"You know, if only you had trained your magic power, we could have had this conversation a long, long time ago. I've been trying to talk to you for years, Shota-chan. But no, you just had to lock yourself for ten years in a room and stop caring about magic. You made your poor Lycoris wait so long to properly thank her savior."

The world stopped for Shota.