The figure that stepped through the cracked wall moved with unsettling silence. Red threads pulsed faintly along its arms, darker and denser than Arem's own Web, like veins of molten steel under skin. It didn't speak. It didn't breathe—or, if it did, Arem couldn't hear it over the pounding of his own heart.
Kade shifted instantly into a fighting stance, muscles coiled, eyes narrowed. "Stay back," he warned. "Do not engage unless you want to be shredded."
Arem's legs trembled. His body still ached from the last round, but instinct—raw and unreasoning—pushed him forward. Threads flickered along his arms, searching, snapping with tension.
The intruder tilted its head, almost studying him. And then it smiled.
That smile carried no warmth. Only calculation and intent.
"You…" Kade hissed, stepping between Arem and the figure. "You're not part of the academy."
The intruder's reply was simple—a slight bow of the head. A flick of a finger sent a red thread slicing across the room. It cut a steel beam, snapping it in half midair. Sparks flew, and the floor vibrated under the sudden pressure.
Arem stumbled backward, barely dodging the whip-like thread. He could feel it brushing past his skin, the Web reacting instinctively. Threads coiled, pulling him forward, urging him to fight—but his body screamed against the pain, warning him of the recoil.
Kade growled, his own threads shooting out. They collided with the intruder's threads in a violent explosion of red sparks and snapping energy. The impact rattled Arem's teeth and pushed him back to the wall.
"You have no discipline," Kade snapped, his voice sharp. "And you—" he pointed at Arem—"are not ready for this."
Arem clenched his fists. Pain shot up his arms, but he couldn't just watch. He reached out instinctively, weaving a thin thread toward the intruder. It was feeble, unrefined, but it connected. The intruder didn't recoil. Instead, it tilted its head as if amused, then twisted the thread in midair.
Arem cried out as the feedback surged through his veins. Recoil. Pain. Fracture warning. His muscles screamed in protest, but his mind—strained and sharp—kept him tethered to control. He gritted his teeth and yanked back, snapping the connection before it could pull him apart.
The intruder's smile widened. Then, with a sudden burst, it leapt across the chamber, landing closer to Arem. Its presence pressed on him, suffocating, yet exhilarating. The threads in the air reacted, quivering like snakes sensing prey.
Kade roared, throwing a punch with Web-augmented strength. The intruder vanished, only to reappear behind Kade, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. The movement was faster than sight, precise, terrifying. Kade staggered, gritting his teeth.
"You're stronger than I thought," the intruder said softly, voice low, almost melodic. "But predictable."
Arem felt a surge of panic. His Web pulsed erratically. He could sense the intruder's threads, older and stronger than his own. Every movement tugged at him involuntarily. Fear, anger, and instinct blended into a dangerous cocktail.
Kade turned, eyes blazing. "Arem, focus! Don't let it touch your threads!"
Arem nodded, hands shaking. He tried to weave control, aligning his internal pressure with his intent, pushing through the pain and recoil—but the intruder's presence was a magnet, drawing his Web toward it. Every attempt to fight back felt like pulling against a hurricane.
And then the intruder spoke directly to him.
"You're not just weak… you're special."
The words cut through Arem's panic, planting a seed of unease. Special? In what way? And why did it matter?
Before he could process it, the intruder moved again—faster, closer, and this time toward the academy's structural controls along the wall. Sparks flew as threads laced around machinery, tearing panels and sending alarms blaring.
Kade shouted, but even he seemed momentarily stunned.
Arem's threads responded instinctively, pulling him forward toward the intruder. Pain shot up his arms, burning his muscles, and his vision blurred. Yet he had to act.
Something deep inside his mind clicked. Threads coiled around him, tighter, sharper, more deliberate. He inhaled, bracing himself for recoil, and lunged.
The intruder turned, eyes glinting, and smiled again.
"You're ready," it said.
And then, just as Arem extended his Web for a direct strike—
The intruder vanished.
A hollow, echoing laugh filled the chamber.
From the ceiling, red threads snaked down. Not from the intruder. Not from Arem. From above, unseen, spreading across the walls like veins in a living organism.
Arem froze. His heart hammered.
Kade's face darkened. "It's never just one," he growled.
And then the lights went out.