He was standing in an open field, facing Mark. They clashed. Mark won.
He blinked. Now they were in a city. They fought. Mark won.
Another blink. An endless white void. They fought. He won this time.
Another. A forest. They fought. Mark won.
Another. Another. Another.
"What... what is this?!" Ken’s voice echoed across countless simulations that all felt absolutely real.
Outside, in reality, Ken stood frozen inside his own shadow dome. The Nikegami had taken hold. His body was completely paralyzed, trapped between moving forward and defending, locked in indecision as his mind experienced infinite combat scenarios.
Mark walked calmly around the frozen dome. "Nikegami doesn’t just trap your body, Ken. It traps your mind in endless possibility. Every fight you could imagine—you’re living them all at once."
Inside the simulations, Ken was fighting desperately across a thousand battlefields. His shadows worked in some, failed in others. He won, he lost, he drew, he died, he survived—all simultaneously, all feeling completely real.
Mark raised his hand and tapped the shadow dome gently.
In the simulations, Ken felt the impact as a devastating blow across every scenario.
His concentration shattered.
The shadow dome collapsed. Ken’s frozen body was revealed, eyes wide but unseeing, lost in the Nikegami’s infinite loop.
Mark moved with supernatural speed. His fist drove into Ken’s solar plexus—a measured strike. Not enough to seriously injure, but enough to matter. He followed with a strike to Ken’s shoulder, spinning him. Then a sweep to his legs.
Each impact rippled across every simulation Ken was experiencing, multiplying the effect a thousandfold in his mind.
Finally, Mark stepped back and closed his eyes.
The silver faded to brown.
Reality crashed back into Ken all at once. The simulations vanished. He collapsed immediately, gasping and shaking, his shadow powers completely dispersed. His body trembled from the phantom echoes of a thousand defeats, victories, and everything in between.
"You... you didn’t even need to hit me that hard," Ken managed, his voice hoarse. "I was already... lost in there."
Mark stood over him, his eyes normal again, expression neutral but not unkind.
"The Dead Eyes don’t need force. Once the Nikegami takes hold, the fight is already over. You were battling yourself more than you were battling me."
Ken tried to rise but his legs wouldn’t support him. The mental exhaustion from experiencing countless fights simultaneously had drained him completely. His shadow flickered weakly around him before disappearing entirely.
He looked up at Mark’s brown eyes, now gentle and human again.
"Those silver eyes... they’re absolute, aren’t they?"
Mark didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
**Winner: Mark**
Everyone was stunned by Mark.
He had just finished battling Jelo—an exhausting, brutal fight—yet he still stepped forward without hesitation and overwhelmed Ken, bringing him down with frightening ease. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t talent alone.
Even olmo hadn’t fully grasped the true extent of Mark’s power.
Those eyes... they were perfectly suited for him.
Mark wasn’t just strong—he was born a genius. Even within his own clan, where monsters were raised and legends were forged, he stood apart. Many of them had looked up to him since childhood, not out of respect, but awe.
With the fight concluded, Olmo finally saw what he had been searching for.
He had seen how strong Jelo truly was.
He had seen the potential burning inside Ken.
And now, he had witnessed what Mark could do after a battle—when he should have been weakened.
The other matches continued, fists clashing and powers erupting across the arena, but for olmo, his attention had already shifted.
After everyone had paired up and fought, Olmo finally got what he wanted. He had seen where each student was lacking and what they needed to focus on in their next phase of training. With that, the sparring session for the day came to an end, and the students gradually returned to their rooms.
The moment Jelo stepped into his room, he collapsed onto his bed.
His body still ached.
Earlier, after his brutal takedown by Mark, he had been taken to the academy’s clinic. Thanks to his regenerative abilities, most of his injuries had healed—not completely, but enough for him to walk and move again.
Atlas was there too. Both of them lay on their separate beds, Jelo staring up at the ceiling in silence.
"So," Atlas said at last, his voice calm. "What do you think about today’s training session?"
Jelo barely heard him at first.
"...It was nice," Jelo muttered after a moment. "But I didn’t expect it. I really didn’t expect it to go that way for me."
The room fell quiet again, the weight of the day settling heavily between them.
But I’m looking forward to the next training session," Jelo said quietly. "There’s a lot I still have to prove."
Atlas didn’t know but,Earlier, in the silence of his mind, the System had issued its command:
Get revenge on Mark.
Reward: 40 Essence.
The notification had shaken Jelo to his core.
Mark wasn’t just another opponent he could casually challenge. Mark was a genius—the kind that appeared once in a generation. Someone born ahead of everyone else. Someone who crushed expectations as easily as he crushed bones.
Jelo had worried about it ever since.
Revenge wasn’t something he could rush. Not against someone like Mark.
If he wanted to survive—no, if he wanted to win—then he would have to improve. Sharpen himself. Push his abilities beyond their limits.
Only then... could he even begin to think about standing in front of Mark again.
I feel like I’m just... weak. Even among our friend group—you and Ken—I’m the weakest."
He paused, staring at the ceiling.
"We both started at the same rank. But you’ve grown stronger so fast, and I’m still lagging behind." He let out a slow breath. "Even though you were defeated by Mark today, everyone could still see how strong you are."
He turned his head slightly, his jaw tightening.
"But mine was different. My defeat was humiliating."
For a moment, it sounded like the words might break him—but they didn’t.
"...Still, it’s nothing to cry about. I can’t keep dwelling on it." Atlas rolled over, turning his back as he lay face down on the bed. "I just have to work harder. I have to become stronger."
The room went silent as sleep slowly took him.