Shadow Being System

The academy grounds were still, the ambient hum of distant voices and footsteps blending into the soft chirping of crickets as night fell. Two figures could be seen slipping into the shadows, navigating the labyrinth of corridors with practiced precision. William glanced at the older man beside him, his brow furrowing.

The young boy, dressed in a blue and black uniform that contrasted sharply with his dark hair, was growing more curious by the second.

"General Zhao," William whispered, his voice barely audible as they rounded a corner, "why are we sneaking around like this? You're the general, right? Isn't your rank the highest here? We shouldn't be creeping like criminals."

General Zhao, a stoic figure cloaked in a black military uniform and wearing a nose mask, didn't slow his pace. His face, mostly hidden behind the mask, was unreadable, but William caught the subtle amusement in his eyes as he flicked open his traditional Chinese fan, waving it lazily.

"True, boy," Zhao replied, his voice low and gravelly, "I outrank everyone in Military Base 4 and the Academy 4. But sneaking around isn't about rank. I'm not supposed to get too involved with the academy, and I'd rather not have the Principal suspicious."

William's curiosity piqued at the mention of the Principal. "Why not just arrest him? Interrogate him, even?"

Zhao's fan snapped shut with a sharp click. He turned to glance at William, his gaze piercing. "The Principal is nothing more than a pawn. To catch the king he serves, I need to keep him in play."

William's heart skipped a beat. The Principal? Working with heretics? The implications churned in his gut. If the Principal was a pawn, then the real mastermind had to be someone higher up the chain. The General?

Or maybe one of the B10. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. If it were true, this was a catastrophe waiting to unfold—for humanity itself.

They moved silently, passing the first-year building, and William's mind raced as they headed toward the second-year building. For a brief moment, excitement flickered through him. The second-years would be stronger—he could test their strength. But to his surprise, Zhao veered sharply, leading them away from the academy buildings.

"Where are we going?" William asked, a mix of curiosity and unease creeping into his voice.

Zhao didn't answer, leading them through a series of trees that seemed to grow denser with each step. One tree, then two, then three. Soon, they were in the heart of a forest—but not just any forest. Strange red plants lined the ground, their bright, blood-like hue stark against the moonlight filtering through the leaves. The air around them grew thicker, almost as if the forest itself was alive.

The red plants caught William's eye. He squinted at one of them and used his Third Eye, the ability that let him discern the essence of things. The name popped up in his mind, "Flower of Passion."

Curiosity shifted to embarrassment as the description followed: "Aphrodisiac."

William's face flushed red in an instant. "What the hell?! Why would the academy have something like this growing in the open?" he thought, awkwardly glancing at Zhao, who was still striding ahead without a care in the world.

Shaking his head, William redirected his Third Eye to examine the other flora around him. Most were harmless, even helpful, with healing properties. But one plant made his blood run cold.

"You Are Dead." The ominous name appeared as he focused on a purple flower that looked deceptively beautiful. The description made his skin crawl: a deadly poison, tasteless, odorless, and colorless. Once ingested, it caused unimaginable pain—like thousands of needles piercing through the internal organs—followed by death. No cure.

Sweat beaded on William's forehead as he made a conscious effort to avoid the purple plant, his every step now more calculated. The quiet crunch of leaves under their feet was the only sound as the tension grew. He quickened his pace, catching up to Zhao.

"Is this the place?" William asked, his voice shaky but eager. The trees and plants around them practically shimmered with Soul Essence, a tangible aura of energy filling the air.

Zhao shook his head, a smirk hidden beneath his mask. "Not yet, boy. A little farther."

After what felt like an eternity of walking, they reached a small clearing. In front of them was a chasm, its depths shrouded in thick, swirling fog. The fog seemed unnatural, an impenetrable wall of mist that no light could pass through.

William's heart pounded in his chest as he stared into the void. "Are we… going down there?" His voice wavered, uncertainty creeping in.

Zhao's expression didn't change. "Yes."

William cautiously approached the edge, picking up a stone and tossing it into the chasm. He waited for the clink of stone hitting rock, but no sound came. The fog swallowed the stone whole, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Before William could react, he felt a hand press firmly against his back. Zhao's voice, usually steady and calm, now carried a chilling undertone. "You shouldn't have trusted me."

A twisted grin curled on the general's face as he shoved William into the chasm.

William's eyes widened in shock, his body plummeting into the fog. "Shit! I shouldn't have let my guard down!" he thought, his heart hammering in his chest as the dense mist enveloped him.

__________________________

Far from the academy, atop a mountain draped in mist, sat a Japanese-style temple. Its ancient wooden structure exuded an aura of tranquility, the air filled with the soft rustle of wind chimes. Inside the temple, two old men sat across from each other, deep in a game of Go. One was dressed in a simple monk's robe, his hands steady as he placed a black stone on the board.

The other, garbed in a sleek black kimono, smirked as he watched the game unfold.

Suddenly, the air shifted, though neither man seemed disturbed. A moment later, a figure appeared before them—a man in a ninja outfit, his green hair barely visible beneath his mask. He knelt on one knee, head bowed in respect.

The monk was the first to speak. "How was it?"

The ninja didn't lift his head as he responded. "An Anbu was sent, but the boy is safe."

The monk's expression remained calm. "Good."

The man in the kimono, his eyes gleaming with amusement, interjected. "Did you see my student at the academy? Red hair, troublemaker."

The ninja nodded. "Yes, master. He's managed to get himself into trouble, as expected."

The kimono-clad man chuckled. "What did he do this time?"

"He fought with the son of one of the B10."

The smile on the kimono man's face faded slightly, while the monk placed his hands together, murmuring, "Gokya o makoto ni." The phrase was solemn—a prayer for the deceased.

"Rest in peace," the kimono man echoed.

The ninja hesitated. "Master, the boy is not dead. Your student merely knocked him out."

The kimono man's eyes widened in surprise before he let out a hearty laugh, dropping his chess piece. "So, he didn't kill him? That's a first."

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The ninja continued, "The boy with the system and your red-haired student are now in the same room."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The monk, still calm, nodded approvingly. "Good. Their destinies are intertwined."

With that, the monk dismissed the ninja.

"Return to the academy. We can't let anything happen to the boy with the system."