text: Sarah walked down one of the way-too-many-god-awful tunnels that plagued this arena. She could never remember which direction to go, and the Maps app was a piss poor, piece of shit.
  
  She was grinding her teeth when she finally hit the cemetery of Shadow, took a confident left turn down a hallway, leading a troop of guards, only to stomp her foot and spin around.
  
  The guards all clanked to a stop, running fronts into backs, shouting and cussing, then doing their best to make way for their leader to squeeze her tiny frame past them.
  
  She flicked a red curl from her eyes and glared at the terribly unhelpful, stupid sign that read Up up, Down down, Left right, Left right, B A Start.
  
  Gah! They had time to put up lame nerd shit, but couldn't possibly be bothered to provide any fucking directions! She inhaled to the point of explosion and blew it out like a red dragon. In doing so, a tiny, wiggling worm of a memory popped into her head and she grinned, saying with total confidence for the sixth time, "This way!"
  
  She followed the hallway that connected to more random hallways, before eventually coming to a large door wrapped in steel bands. A barred hole at the upper center looked into an eerily quiet menagerie.
  
  She couldn't see worth shit. Half the damn crystals in there were out of mana. Next time, she'd bring her own crystal, a lovely ruby to match her eyes with its stirring glow.
  
  Sarah gave the wood two hard knocks and waited. The guards behind her also waited, no doubt nervous about the shadowling human. To Sarah, the idea was quite fascinating.
  
  Could monsters really pretend to be humans so convincingly? She had to know. It was worth navigating the labyrinth and getting lost only a half dozen times to find out.
  
  And where the hell was the guard? She knocked again, harder this time, just in case the fatso down here somehow missed it the first time. Of course, doing so stung something fierce. She grabbed her knuckles, counted to three, and the pain was gone.
  
  A whole minute later, she was ready to huff and puff and blow the damn thing down. Her eye twitched. All that walking, all that anticipation, and now she was stuck here staring down a damn boring door.
  
  "Bloodbag, get up here!" she yelled.
  
  The guards shifted to the side to let a young man pass. He was barely eighteen, freckled, nervous, and awkward. "Yes mistress?" he asked in his uncanny, high-pitched voice for a guy.
  
  "Wrist. No not your right wrist. I swear it's covered in shit half the time. Give me the left one."
  
  "But we don't—"
  
  "Left, now! Before you find yourself in a cemetery, missing the big event!"
  
  Bloodbag hurriedly rolled up his left sleeve and held out his wrist. She took it, none-too delicately, and bit.
  
  People didn't have blood, of course, though that didn't matter to vampires in this world, followers of the bat. They didn't have their own mana, and so drinking that of others, allowed them to cast spells and empower their bodies.
  
  Sarah gulped and Bloodbag moaned softly, health points slipping away. His heartbeat pulsed through his wrist, faster and faster as she sucked. Then she pushed him against the wall, feeling a deep need to just bite a chunk of his neck out.
  
  Her chest rose and fell with a tingle of excitement to release her inner demon. No . . . not today. . . . To kill the kid today, right before an exciting arena event, would be brutishly rude, far more than was proper. Besides, she half forced him to come so he, too, could see the shadowling before everyone else.
  
  Bloodbag swallowed, lower lip trembling, eyes watching her mouth as if he was working up the courage to kiss her.
  
  Sarah pushed him aside, then kicked the door cleanly off its hinges, expending some of that mana that swirled warmly in her chest and down her extremities. Oh, how wonderful it was to be a vampire.
  
  She marched into the massive room, a room that had always been pandemonious, a grating noise from a hundred or more monsters, cycling through their obnoxious noisemaking programming.
  
  But now? It was silent. So incredibly, stupidly, silent. There was absolutely no way the monsters would just stop yapping and yowling. It was a silence that screamed. It cut deeply, holding a warning that even made her, of all people, uncomfortable.
  
  It was a warning of danger, of pain, of nightmares—a warning of a shadowling, pretending to be a human. A dozen guards fanned out to the sides. The door guard was nowhere to be seen.
  
  She walked forward, stepping on the door, the steel straps, bent in an attempt to defend against her kick, now made the door more bowl-shaped, wood splintering at the edges.
  
  Sarah shifted a bit of her borrowed mana into her eyes, All the blacks and shadows of the room, lightened as if the crystals had immediately renewed their mana reserves.
  
  Her breath caught in her throat. What the fuck. . .? There were no monsters, no skeletons, no Durum Boars, no Katsen, or any of the other mobs they kept here for the arena games. The place had been cleaned out thoroughly, left empty.
  
  No . . . not empty, certainly not empty. Down the center path, all the way against the far wall, she could see something. A shadow sitting on something white.
  
  The guards looked to each other, uncertainty lingering in the air. The captain asked to call for another troop as backup. She agreed, impatience and caution warring against the other.
  
  Grr, it'll probably take them half an hour to get here.
  
  Five minutes later, another dozen guards marching into the room, and she let out an annoyed breath. The one and only damn question she wanted to ask was, how many of them knew the way and didn't once advise her? They just watched her get lost!
  
  But were she them, and with her reputation? Perhaps it was understandable. Or perhaps they'd all end up as blood bags for this insult, and she could seriously fill her own mana reserves.
  
  "Challenger Sarah," the captain of the new troop said in greeting, but then drew her sword and looked around.
  
  What a dullard, to walk down the hallway and not sense something being out of the ordinary until now? And that was why these worthless guards would never be challengers. They didn't have the instincts for the fight, the drive to improve.
  
  Sarah didn't answer the woman and instead started marching down the main path with her small army behind her. They'd serve as a distraction if it came down to it.
  
  Halfway to what only could be the shadowling, she stopped by a cage. The damn fatso door guard was peacefully snoring inside. Why kill everything except for this moron?
  
  Sarah kicked the cage hard enough to bend one of the bars. The entire cage, one of fairly decent size, lifted off the ground a few inches and slammed back down to the stone.
  
  The fatso turned on his side, saying, "Yes mistress, I can take another...."
  
  "Get your ass out of bed!" she yelled.
  
  This prompted the guard to jerk awake and fall out of his cot. He scrambled to his feet, looking at all the faces of laughing guards before settling on hers. His eyes widened. "Ch-ch-challenger Sarah!"
  
  "What the hell are you doing in this cage?"
  
  "I-I-I..."
  
  "Speak, goddammit!" It was like talking to a damn toddler.
  
  "Th-the shadowling," the guard said and motioned down the path. "He uh . . . forced me."
  
  "I can see that. How? Did he just ask you to lock yourself up, did he bribe you with a wagon of cupcakes"—the guards laughed—"did he mind control you?"
  
  "I-I . . . ca-can't remember...."
  
  "You're worthless, you got that? A worthless piece of shit! Whatever! You're not my problem. Someone else can let you out, or maybe you can starve to death as punishment."
  
  She glared at the man for five more seconds, then huffed and marched onward. What a stupid, stupid idiot. But could the shadowling have some form of mind control abilities? Could he erase someone's memories? Nothing should be able to do that. . ..
  
  Sarah held out her hand and a large portion of her mana, surged down her arm like chips of burning coal, glowing beneath her skin. Blood swirled out from her palm into the shape of her blood scythe, black and red, with an impossibly sharp, jagged edge.
  
  The guards drew their own weapons: swords, spears, bows, and one had the glow of a mage, preparing whatever spell such a low leveled mage could prepare, probably nothing more than a light spell.
  
  The white thing she had seen from across the massive chamber, was nothing but hundreds of bones, shapes into a . . . throne? The figure at the top sat back, legs crossed at the ankles, wearing black leather armor. He had a cowl that hid his face in shadow, except she could see perfectly, see a mask of bone shards without eye sockets.
  
  Sarah stopped, a forbidding sense of dread seemed to exude from the figure in wisps of darkness. It was so damn exciting! Her heart did a little dance, her energies wanted to taste him, to feel his life force and see what made him different.
  
  She reached out with her mind and requested his affinity, requested a sense of familiarity, to try and understand this . . . thing of darkness. Nothing was there, no spark of life, no Shadow or Light, no name or health.
  
  A statue? A trick?
  
  He uncrossed his legs and sat up. "Are you my escort?" His voice sounded young but mature, maybe late twenties or early thirties. It was a confident voice, matching his confident and at-ease posture.
  
  But . . . shadowlings can't talk! Those of shadows were like any other monster, entities made from darkness for those of Light to slaughter. And yet here she was, standing below, unable to sense him while also, hearing his words.
  
  "Yes, I am—"
  
  "— Challenger Sarah. I have conditions," he said.
  
  He knew her name? "Conditions?"
  
  "Yes. Something I expect in exchange for my cooperation."
  
  She frowned. "I know what a condition is! You are a prisoner. You don't get to have conditions."
  
  "I don't agree."
  
  "It doesn't matter! You are—"
  
  "Silence!" the shadowling bellowed and cages rattled. The guards took a step back, little -1s in white, floating above them. Then, in his normal voice, he said, "I am the King of Shadows. I have gone along with your capture to appease my curiosity."
  
  King of Shadows? Warmth spread up her neck—this man was so imposing, so demanding, she oh so desperately wanted to remove his mask. Was there a monster beneath it, something soulless, black tar, a dozen eyes or mouths, something disgusting? Or a man, a human, an entity that could send shivers down her spine.
  
  "I will compete in your arena," he said, "though should I win, you are to let me leave with my Cobalins."
  
  The Cobalins? Of course . . . they were of Shadow, and if this were their king, he'd want them back. "And if we win?"
  
  "Then I remain your prisoner."
  
  "That's it?"
  
  "If you do not agree, I will not fight. Your people will not get their show. I imagine the arena would look the fool for false promises."
  
  "If you don't fight," she said, "you'll be killed. That's what everyone is paying for, after all."
  
  "And should I die before the grand event?" He casually held out a hand and a long dagger materialized from nothing. It was drawn from his inventory. But without a phone? He then angled the blade at his chest.
  
  Shit! Stupid, stupid shit! The Master of Arena would be fucking infuriated if the shadowling were to die before the event. Everyone would be. They'd get hundreds of negative reviews for false advertising, the System might even drop a fine, and she'd take the blame.
  
  "You see?" the King of Shadows said. "You can have my cooperation. All I ask, on the condition that I win, you release me and the Cobalins. They are not meant to be slaves, abused by your kind. Kill them if you must, though play by the rules of the game."
  
  She bit her bottom lip, thoughts racing, twisting . . . distracted by his sheer commitment and total lack of fear. His very voice commanded her attention, regal. This . . . was a king.
  
  Sarah stepped forward despite the protests of her guards. "I don't have the authority to grant your condition," she said and he started to pierce the dagger into his chest. "But! I can make your case, as long . . . as you meet my condition?"
  
  "Go on."
  
  "I don't believe you're human. No human has ever been of Shadow. Show me your face."
  
  "I agree to your terms, but only you."
  
  Sarah glared at her guards and they promptly turned. When they were all facing away, the King of Shadows stood. He was at least six feet tall with good posture.
  
  He carried himself down the bone steps with such poise, such elegance, smoothly gliding from one step to the other despite being completely blinded by the mask.
  
  He stopped a mere three feet away.
  
  She swallowed the forming knot in her throat. Her inner demon swallowed. Anticipation buzzed in the air like she stood on the cusp of a giant storm, powerful bolts of lightning ready to strike.
  
  He didn't even reach up to the mask to remove it. The shards of bone that were fused together, shifted away into smoke, revealing a gorgeous man.
  
  He had thick, dark brown hair that curled, hanging just below his chin. His irises were a teal with strands of blue and green. His . . . lips, velvet. He expressed no emotion, just maintained a state of deep mystery and perfection.
  
  Oh, she'd give anything to bite his neck. Just a nibble, a lick, a taste.
  
  "Satisfied?" he asked quietly, intimately, his teeth white, and the points of his canines longer than normal, almost as if he were a vampire. This little fact danced through her, like her nerves were playing ping pong.
  
  She wasn't breathing. Oh, what was air in the presence of divinity? Though when she did breathe in to quell that quiet ache in her chest, he smelled of desire.
  
  "Are you single?" she blurted. What the fuck. . .? Out of everything she could have said. . . . Not only that, but he was eternally off-limits, the enemy, the king of the enemy!
  
  His mask reformed and he shifted away, ascending back to his throne. It was such a sharp and painful answer, not a No or Yes or a polite rejection, it was nothing and everything at the same time, and in that, it was probably the only answer he could give.
  
  Once sitting again, the King of Shadows said, "I have upheld my end of our agreement. Please see to it that my conditions are heard."
  
  30 minutes earlier. . ..
  
  Dhane quickly added the finishing touches to what actually looked like a pretty neat throne. It started more like a glob of white with a stool at the top, but four hours later, it had stairs and skulls and bones sticking out every which way.
  
  The inside was entirely hollow, built up by all the small cages he could find. It gave the throne some height, so he could look down on whoever came to escort him to the big arena event and his supposed slaughtering.
  
  Dhane wasn't an artist by any stretch of the imagination, though the Building app included a lot of preset designs. Construction worked off of matter. To build a house, wood and stone would be the most efficient and cost-effective materials.
  
  But all he had were monster hides and meat and various scrap items from all the loot he had collected. The app took everything without complaint and charged a whopping 5 gold, 34 silver. Apparently, the provided loot wasn't remotely close to the construction materials needed, and the app was making up the difference with money.
  
  It was a damn fortune. But . . . mobs also dropped money. And what was money if he couldn't spend it? He paid the price and still had 64 silver and 37 copper left, a decent chunk most capable of affording a grand meal at any Ceratree City restaurant.
  
  The thought enraged his poor stomach. Being a prisoner was most definitely no fun. However, such thoughts, as painful as they were, kept him working. Soon. . ..
  
  The throne had grand ambitions, diminished by his lack of resources. It would have been so awesome to create an Iron Throne, made from a thousand swords, but instead of swords, bones.
  
  Oh well. It still came together quite well, leaving him with just enough bones for the final touch to his great charade: a mask befitting the King of Shadows.
  
  The people wanted a show, why not lean into their expectations? Why not pretend to be this dark thing that they were all so afraid of, that they wanted to see slaughtered in the arena?
  
  Since the mask didn't have to provide armor or attribute bonuses, it was rather simple to make. The Crafting app included designs and tools to modify materials. He shattered bones into shards, then fused them together, paying 26 copper.
  
  Not only did the mask provide an air of mystery, it also effectively blinded him, making it easier to shut out his vision and focus on the vibrations. In battle, seeing in all directions could be his way to survival.
  
  A loud clatter rang across the massive chamber and people stormed in through the main entrance. Dhane quickly climbed the stairs to his throne and sat, then equipped his mask.
  
  This will work? Octoralis asked.
  
  "Honestly?"
  
  Always, Daddy.
  
  "Even in the worst-case scenario, the moment we're above ground, we can run. Walls can't stop you."
  
  I am Master of Walls!
  
  "The King of Shadows and the Master of Walls. We make a good team."
  
  But what of Penny?
  
  A cold, painful uncertainty swirled into his chest. He had tried to contact her last night, through messages and several calls, though she never once replied or answered.
  
  She didn't even reply to his request for help before the priests of Light killed him. Her other messages didn't seem out of the ordinary. Aaliyah must have explained everything, but why the silence now?
  
  What if she was in trouble because of him?
  
  What if Veritus Scyla arrested her?
  
  We will find her, Daddy.
  
  Dhane smiled. He did his best not to think of the only other thing it might be, that Penny, learning that he was of Shadow, didn't want anything to do with him. He had lied to her, this person who had fought so hard against the corruption of Shadow in her own affinity.
  
  He might have only known her for a few days, and yet, that thought was soul-shattering. He hoped against all hope that it wasn't this last possibility, that she'd at least hear him out, provided his plan actually worked.
  
  There was a small army of guards following a woman. She didn't seem to be wearing armor, not with how the fabric hugged her slender form, curves instead of angles.
  
  She stopped at Tom's cage, then kicked it. And wow . . . the entire thing lifted off the ground and clanged back against the stone, loudly. The vibrations were nearly blinding, washing out everything else for a few seconds, the lines turning to blurs.
  
  "Get your ass out of bed!" she yelled.
  
  "Ch-ch-challenger Sarah!" Tom said a moment later. So the woman was a Challenger. . . . She seemed to hold the same sense of arrogance and mightier-than-thou attitude as Terry. Perhaps all challengers were like that.
  
  "What the hell are you doing in this cage?"
  
  "I-I-I..."
  
  "Speak, goddammit!"
  
  Dhane ground his teeth, noting how they felt a little different. The ends of his canines were longer, sharper. Apparently, gaining thousands of experience in a single night had changed him somehow.
  
  What else had changed?
  
  You are more pretty, Daddy.
  
  "Pretty?" he asked.
  
  More like me!
  
  Oh . . . lovely. . . . He had always wanted to be more spider-like.
  
  Octoralis smiled, sending a flurry of warmth into his chest, evidently—and thankfully—missing the sarcasm. He sent his own emotional smile at her, one that wasn't forced.
  
  Maybe being more spider-like wasn't a bad thing. She made all the difference. Without her and her eagerness to help, he'd be alone, stuck in a tiny cage, and wouldn't have gained eight levels last night, which for a dual-class, was quite the achievement.
  
  While it did take twice as much experience to level than everyone else, the level requirements started low and climbed quickly. Twice as much of a few hundred experience wasn't much, not compared to his next level, level-11, that would take 10,526 more experience.
  
  Tom had said something, stuttering with apparent nervousness. This was the man's true test, to be faced with those of his own side, those of Light, and go along with Dhane's plan.
  
  Challenger Sarah said, "I can see that. How? Did he just ask you to lock yourself up, did he bribe you with a wagon of cupcakes, did he mind control you?"
  
  And Tom replied perfectly, "I-I . . . ca-can't remember. . . ." Score! Tom would be getting a spider hug and whatever cookies Dhane could figure out how to make, the guy was coming to the dark side.
  
  I give hugs!
  
  "Without fangs."
  
  Of course, Daddy! Octoralis projected with incredulity.
  
  Now, everyone would think Dhane had some type of mind-altering abilities. Anything that distracted them or confused them, would help sell the illusion he was trying to create.
  
  Challenger Sarah went off on Tom, calling him names and putting him down. He was a nice guy and this woman was tearing away every shred of self-worth he had managed to build up.
  
  Was it odd to feel protective of the guy? To want to step out of the shadows and defend him? Tom was a friend now, stuttering and all. And yet, Dhane couldn't leave, he had his own role to play.
  
  The small army advanced and Dhane leaned back and crossed his ankles, aiming for a look of casual indifference.
  
  Challenger Sarah summoned a scythe. It formed as if by some type of liquid that shot from her hand. All of the other two dozen guards, drew their own weapons, a fantastic show of strength, one that made Dhane a little nervous.
  
  Octoralis helped blur away the unwanted emotions and focus instead on anger, on the injustice toward Tom and the Cobalins, on what the priests of Light were doing. He uncrossed his legs and sat up.
  
  First impressions were everything. He lowered his voice, taking on the air of nobility, of importance, and said, "Are you my escort?" The words slid along the dark, cold stones. Nailed it!
  
  "Yes, I am—"
  
  "— Challenger Sarah. I have conditions," he said, cutting her off. It was what a king would do, right? Speak over that of his lessers.
  
  "Conditions?"
  
  "Yes. Something I expect in exchange for my cooperation."
  
  She frowned a delicate mouth. She was probably very pretty and used to getting her way in all things. "I know what a condition is! You are a prisoner. You don't get to have conditions."
  
  "I don't agree."
  
  "It doesn't matter! You are—"
  
  Dhane triggered Modify Vibration, a new skill that gave him control over the vibrations around him, including that of sound. This could amplify the vibration to deal damage, though sounds were considerably weaker than applying it to his weapon.
  
  "Silence!" he shouted, enhancing the sound. It burst out of him like a bark from a three hundred-foot dog, which was perfect. Perfect except for one tiny little miscalculation, that being his mask.
  
  The bone shards were perfectly aligned to reflect sound back. Dhane clenched his jaw shut and gripped the armrests of his throne lest he grabbed the sides of his head to stop his brain from rattling.
  
  Three seconds later, the pain was gone, as was 1 point of his health. Hopefully, no one was paying attention to that, for not only did it reveal he had hurt himself in the act, but that his armor had no health. . ..
  
  He continued, using his regal voice, "I am the King of Shadows. I have gone along with your capture to appease my curiosity. I will compete in this arena, though should I win, you are to let me leave with my Cobalins."
  
  "And if we win?"
  
  "Then I remain your prisoner."
  
  "That's it?"
  
  "If you do not agree, I will not fight. Your people will not get a show. I imagine the arena would look the fool for false promises." Or rather, he desperately hoped that was the case. The knowledge at the back of his mind held nothing about how the arena functioned. They may simply postpone the event without a problem.
  
  "If you don't fight," she said, "you'll be killed. That's what everyone is paying for, after all."
  
  "And should I die before the grand event?" Dhane held his hand out, then focused on his soul phone. The Inventory app opened and a second later, his Cobalin sword materialized.
  
  This little trick Leon had shown him, made a huge difference. Challenger Sarah and the guards that were spread out behind her, looked awestruck, like he was David Copperfield and just performed some bout of unexplainable illusion.
  
  He angled the dagger at his chest, and their expressions amplified, shifting to a sort of panicked horror. "You see? You can have my cooperation. All I ask, on the condition that I win, you release me and the Cobalins. They are not meant to be slaves, abused by your kind. Kill them if you must, though play by the rules of the game."
  
  Sarah stepped forward despite the protests of her guards. "I don't have the authority to grant your condition."
  
  Dhane shifted the thin slice of steel toward his chest.
  
  "But!" she said, quickly. "I can make your case, as long . . . as you meet my condition?"
  
  Huh, what condition could she have? A condition unrelated to the arena, to the Cobalins? He nodded slowly and said, "Go on."
  
  "I don't believe you're human. No human has ever been of Shadow. Show me your face."
  
  Gah! He didn't want to be known. The more people who could recognize him as the one of Shadow, the harder it would be to sneak back into the city without guards freaking out.
  
  But she held a firm stare, as if everything rested on his answer, that she'd abandon him here to rot in this massive hole in the ground lest he eased her suspicions.
  
  He said, "I agree to your terms." Then as the words left his lips, he realized that this was only her condition, and added, "but only you."
  
  Challenger Sarah glared at her guards and they quickly turned around. She had a fierce authority over them. No . . . more than just authority or rank, she held a sort of fear. Perhaps the two of them weren't so different. Were they both wearing masks for power?
  
  He stood and channeled every fiber of his being into what it was to be a king, how he should look, how he should move. He stepped down the stairs, giving each movement careful, exhausting attention. To slip or trip would end his illusion.
  
  Three feet from the woman, cut by curving lines of vibration, he deposited his mask. It dissolved to tendrils of smoke, which seemed odd. It was another one of those small changes.
  
  Challenger Sarah had vibrant red hair that curled, and eyes to match. Her skin was alabaster white, a statue of stark contrasts. She wasn't breathing. Her eyes slid from his, down to his neck, then she licked her lips, seemingly unconsciously, sizing him up as if for dinner.
  
  "Satisfied?" he asked, almost in a whisper, his voice unwilling to comply. He kept his expression as solid, as regal, as mysterious as possible.
  
  "Are you single?" she blurted and her eyes widened, then her cheeks flushed. The change was so fast, from this hardened, unbreakable woman that commanded with fear, to a schoolgirl with a crush.
  
  See! Octoralis projected. You are pretty!
  
  Dhane quickly summoned back his mask before he broke character, then turned and ascended the stairs, as if running away from the girl with a haunting beauty and a cold heart.
  
  Once sitting again, he said, "I have upheld my end of our agreement. Please see to it that my conditions are heard."
  
  Challenger Sarah almost looked depressed. Her brow, furrowed. Eyes now evaluating the bones of his throne. Finally, she nodded. She marched away, leaving all but two of her guards to watch the King of Shadows.