Chapter 10
the battle began, the atmosphere in Ron-Davak shifted. Chaos launched a relentless barrage of fireballs, her speed, strength, and agility surging to levels far beyond her performance in the woods. Delta was immediately forced into a total defensive posture.
"What is going on? She's become so much faster... her attacks are more potent!" Delta thought, his muscles straining as he desperately dodged the onslaught.
"She's gotten much better than she was just minutes ago," Alpha noted, his voice laced with shock as he watched the demigod move like a blur of heat.
Chaos didn't stop there. She slammed her palms against the earth, turning the ground into a literal landmine just as she had done against Shadow. With the floor erupting in geysers of flame, Delta had no choice but to take to the sky.
"No wonder Lord Shadow claimed she was stronger than me," Beta thought, watching the sheer scale of the destruction.
Delta knew he needed a decisive plan. He couldn't win a war of attrition in her home domain. He raised his hands high, and purple lines of energy raced across the entire realm, mirroring the technique of his master. He was putting every ounce of his soul into this final strike.
As the purple grid locked into place, Chaos let out a piercing cry and took her Phoenix form. She transformed into a massive avian entity of pure, scorching white-yellow flame. The Knights watched, mesmerized by the high stakes.
Delta whispered through gritted teeth, "I am Delta."
The realm erupted in a sea of purple flames as the Phoenix collided with Delta's ultimate attack. The resulting shockwave was cataclysmic, sending Delta hurtling through the air until he crashed into the obsidian wall, knocking him out cold.
As the dust settled, Chaos stood amidst the rubble in her human form. She had won.
Shadow watched the aftermath with a calm, calculating gaze. "Like I predicted," he thought. "In this realm, she is more powerful than even Beta. Outside, she remains weaker than Delta. This domain acts as a massive battery, boosting her energy and granting her more power than she naturally possesses."
He continued his assessment: "Since she can access this domain anytime, she has the edge over Gamma and Delta. However, I believe Beta's sheer skill and experience might still allow her to triumph... though it could go either way now."
Alpha moved quickly to the wall, picking up the unconscious Delta. He carried his comrade back toward the group.
"My lord," Gamma asked, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "When we were here initially, we weren't able to use the purple flames at all. But just now, Delta used them with full force. Why is that?"
"The initial suppression was the influence of the Flame God, Shin-Ron," Shadow responded. "Now that he has been erased, his laws over this realm have vanished. You are free to use your power here."
With the evaluation complete, the team teleported back to the temporary base. Alpha took Delta to his room to recover, leaving the rest of the Knights to reflect on the terrifying potential of their newest member.
The next morning, the group gathered in the living room as the house began its daily transition. Beta took her leave to manage her company, and Gamma returned to the police station to continue leading the ongoing investigation into "Shadow." The remaining members stayed indoors, with Delta still in a deep sleep, recovering from the grueling battle in the flame realm.
As they watched the news, a segment aired highlighting a local "patriot" recently released from prison for good behavior. The report praised his massive contributions to the economy, citing his generous donations to hospitals, schools, and orphanages.
Shadow watched the screen, his eyes narrowing. "Alpha, search for the reason he was sent to prison. If he was this 'good,' it wouldn't make sense for him to have been behind bars in the first place."
"Sure, my lord," Alpha replied, opening his laptop. After a few rapid keystrokes, he muttered, "Found it."
Alpha began reading from the decrypted files:
Name: William Freeman, Age 49.
The Crime: Ten years ago, Freeman returned home intoxicated and shot his wife and three children.
The Casualties: His wife (35), and his two daughters (8 and 5) were killed.
The Survivor: Only his eldest son, Liam (then 10), survived the massacre.
The Sentence: Charged with first-degree murder and sentenced to life; however, he was granted parole after only ten years due to "exemplary behavior."
The Aftermath: The son, Liam, vanished into the foster care system, changing his name multiple times. His current whereabouts and identity are unknown.
"After his release," Alpha concluded, "he began donating heavily to charity, claiming he wants to atone for his past mistakes. He has even offered a massive reward for anyone who can find his son, claiming he wants to mend their relationship."
"So, he turned a new leaf," Shadow mused. "One might assume he murdered his family under the influence of alcohol and has lived with the guilt ever since. That would explain the charity... but still."
"People burdened by true guilt don't usually jump into the public spotlight with charity immediately," Alpha noted, closing a tab. "Something feels off about this."
"We can't judge him without knowing his heart," Shadow said, standing up to head upstairs. "But the thing about the truth is that it always finds its way to the surface."
"Couldn't agree more," Alpha added, shutting his laptop as the room fell back into a pensive silence.
In a luxurious mansion on the outskirts of the city, William Freeman switched off his television, a smug grin replacing the "reformed" facade he showed the cameras.
"That took a lot of planning and dedication," he mused, pouring himself a glass of expensive wine. "Humans... they are so gullible. So easy to please." He tightened his silk robe, heading upstairs. "Now then, time for a warm bath."
The silence of the hallway was shattered by the sharp explosion of glass behind him.
William's instincts, honed by years in prison, took over. He lunged for a side drawer, pulling out a concealed handgun. "Who is there?" he barked, leveling the weapon at the shadows near the shattered window. He began to edge forward, his finger on the trigger.
"Hello, Father," a voice whispered from directly behind him.
William spun around in a panic, but he was too slow. A knife hissed through the air, burying itself deep into his gun hand. He shrieked, dropping the weapon and stumbling backward until he hit the floor.
"Who... who are you?" he stammered, his eyes darting around the dark room.
"Have you forgotten me, Father? I'd be heartbroken if you did," the man said, stepping out of the darkness and into the moonlight.
William's face went pale. "It can't be... Liam?"
"Goodness, you remember me! I thought I'd have to jog your memory," Liam said, his voice as cold as ice.
"I... I'm sorry! Liam, listen to me," William pleaded, holding his bleeding hand. "I've changed! You saw the news. I've been searching for you so we could reconcile. It wasn't my fault back then—it was the alcohol! I'm a better person now, I swear!"
Liam didn't stop. He drew a sword, the blade gleaming. "You can lie to the public. You can convince them it was a mistake. But I know the truth. I know everything."
"You have the wrong version of me!" William begged, his voice shaking.
"I know why you killed Mum," Liam said, his pace slow and predatory. "You wanted her wealth. You wanted to inherit everything. That's why you shot me and my sisters, too. You arranged your own release; it was all a game. And the only reason you're looking for me now is to kill the only witness standing in your way."
He stood over his father, the shadow of the blade falling across William's face. "I know you arranged for me to be sent to those foster homes. You planned everything so carefully."
Seeing his lies fall apart, William shifted to frantic begging. "I'm sorry! Forgive me! We can start afresh! I'll change, I promise!"
"Now you're begging?" Liam's face twisted in rage. "I struggled through foster care. I was abused, assaulted, and starved. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of revenge. I wanted you to suffer for what you did to me, to my sisters, and to the woman who gave you everything. You selfish bastard!"
Liam delivered a brutal kick to William's face, the force of the strike shattering his jaw instantly.
"I'm... sorry..." William gurgled through the blood.
"Are you sorry for what you did," Liam asked, staring down with dead eyes, "or are you sorry because your actions finally have consequences? I ran away four years ago. I struggled on the streets. I trained and gave everything to get stronger, waiting for this moment. I truly am my father's son."
Liam raised the sword high.
"Please, son... you don't have to do this!"
"You're right. I don't have to," Liam whispered. "I want to."
The sword plunged down, impaling William's leg. "This is for Mum."
William let out a blood-curdling scream. "Please stop! It hurts!"
The blade struck again, through the other leg. "This is for Lora."
Another strike pierced his right hand. "This is for my baby sis, Anna."
William was a broken, bloody heap on the floor, the pain too intense for him to even scream anymore. Liam lifted the sword one last time, his eyes burning with ten years of Hatred.
"And this... is for me."
With a single, clean stroke, he beheaded his father.
Liam stood in the silence for a moment, breathing heavily. He picked up his father's phone and dialed the police. Without saying a single word, he set the device on the floor, the line still open and recording the silence of the room, and walked out into the night.
Back at the base, the Knights gathered for dinner. Alpha had taken his turn in the kitchen, and the group was ready to dive into the meal. Shadow reached up and removed his mask—the third time he had done so in their presence—but the room still fell into a hushed, mesmerized silence. No matter how many times they saw it, they couldn't get used to his impeccable features.
"Please... stop staring," Shadow said softly.
The Knights immediately averted their eyes, focusing back on their plates. The silence was short-lived, however, as Gamma's phone began to ring. It was the station. They needed him on the scene immediately: William Freeman had been found in his penthouse, beheaded and systematically stabbed.
Gamma quickly briefed the group before hurrying out. The news had already broken, and the television flickered with urgent headlines: TRAGEDY: THE BELOVED PATRIOT HAS BEEN MURDERED.
"As I suspected," Shadow said, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Something was fishy about that man."
"You're right, my lord," Alpha added, his laptop already open. "And I believe the truth is about to surface."
"If we are going to find the answers, we need to act fast," Shadow commanded, his voice shifting into leader mode. "Alpha, scrub every security camera within a two-mile radius of Freeman's apartment. Beta, Delta—get to the perimeter of the crime scene and search for any trail. Chaos, stay here and guard the base while Alpha is occupied. I have somewhere I need to be."
He turned to his team one last time. "Report any useful information immediately." With a ripple in the air, he teleported away.
While the city buzzed with sirens and news reports, Liam had retreated to the far edges of the city. He sat alone in a quiet, moonlit field, the grass swaying in the cold night breeze. The adrenaline of the kill had faded, leaving only a hollow, crushing ache.
He raised his stained sword, the tip pointed toward his own chest. Tears tracked through the dried blood on his cheeks as he looked up at the moon.
"Mother... I have taken my revenge, just as I promised," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I made him pay for everything. But now, it's time to see you again. Let us be reunited."
He gripped the hilt tighter, the blade trembling against his skin.
"It's my birthday today," he muttered with a heartbreaking smile. "It will also be my death day. So please, wait for me. I'm coming home."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice whispered from the darkness behind him.
Liam scrambled to his feet, spinning around and leveling his blade at the intruder. Standing before him was a figure draped in shadows, a mask and hood obscuring his features. Liam's eyes widened; he remembered seeing blurry footage of this exact figure on the news.
"It's... it's you. Shadow," he stammered, his grip on his sword tightening despite his terror. "Are you here to punish me?"
"That depends on your answer," Shadow replied, his voice calm and melodic. "Now tell me... why did you do it, Liam?"
The mention of his real name broke Liam's remaining defenses. He dropped his sword into the grass and sank to the ground, the weight of a decade of trauma pouring out of him. He explained everything—the agony of the night he was shot, the systematic cruelty of his father, and the years of starvation and abuse in foster care that led to the final strike of his blade.
"So you see," Liam concluded, his voice hollow. "My father was not the man the public believed him to be."
Shadow remained silent for a long moment. Liam's story was hauntingly familiar; it echoed the origin of almost every Knight under his command. "Then tell me," Shadow asked softly, "why do you want to kill yourself?"
Liam looked away at the distant horizon. "What do I have left to live for?"
"Yourself," Shadow replied, stepping forward and sitting opposite Liam, mirroring his posture on the grass. "You have yourself. That should be enough reason to live."
"I can't live without a purpose," Liam whispered. "I lost the will to live the moment the sword fell."
"How about I give you a purpose?" Shadow suggested.
Liam let out a dry, cynical laugh. "To be a vigilante? I'll pass."
"No," Shadow corrected. "To be Judgment itself. To punish those who prey on the weak and ensure no one else suffers the fate you did. You won't just be a man with a sword... I will give you power beyond that of men."
"Beyond men...?" Liam muttered in disbelief.
Shadow reached out, his hand gentle but firm as he hooked his fingers under Liam's jaw, lifting his head so their eyes met. "You can be the punishment. Nemesis, the inescapable karma. So tell me, Liam... will you walk with me?"
The weight of the offer crashed over Liam—the memories of his sisters, the faces of his abusers, and the chance to finally turn his pain into power. Tears flowed freely down his face as he looked into the void of Shadow's mask.
"Yes," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I want them all to pay."
As the words left his lips, the sheer exhaustion of the night finally claimed him. Liam's eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed forward, falling unconscious into Shadow's arms.
Back at the base, Beta and Delta were the first to return. They had scoured every alley and rooftop within a two-mile radius of the apartment, but their search had turned up nothing. Meanwhile, Alpha sat hunched over his monitors; he had scrubbed through hours of security footage, but the perpetrator was a ghost. They had moved with the precision of a professional assassin, seemingly knowing exactly where every camera was positioned and avoiding their sightlines with surgical ease.
Gamma was the last to walk through the door. He was prepared to brief the team on his own forensic findings, but Alpha interrupted him before he could speak.
"Whoever did this," Alpha said, his voice grim, "was a high-level assassin."
"Exactly," Gamma added, nodding. "That was my initial deduction from the crime scene. The precision of the strikes—"
His sentence was cut short as a ripple of dark energy filled the room. Shadow teleported into the center of the apartment, holding an unconscious, blood-stained young man in his arms. Without a word, Shadow bypassed the group and headed upstairs, laying Liam onto a bed in one of the remaining guest rooms.
Alpha, whose eyes had been glued to the stranger's face, quickly pulled up the old police file on his laptop. He magnified the ten-year-old photo of Liam Freeman and held it up next to a live feed from the bedroom camera.
"The guy... it's Liam," Alpha said, his voice hushed with shock. "He's the one who murdered his father."
"Huh? It can't be," Gamma replied, stepping closer to the screen to examine the resemblance.
"Since Lord Shadow found him and brought him here, I'm guessing Alpha is right," Beta added, her expression unreadable.
"Why don't we just wait for him to brief us?" Delta suggested, gesturing toward the stairs.
The Knights took their places at the meeting table, the air thick with anticipation as they waited for their master to descend and explain the arrival of the boy who had just executed a "beloved patriot."
A few moments later, Shadow entered the meeting room. He took his seat at the head of the table and proceeded to brief everyone about the incident. He explained that, much like the Knights themselves, Liam was a victim of a cruel past. He then informed them of his decision: Liam would be joining their ranks.
After the briefing, Gamma spoke up. "So, my lord, what do I tell the police about this incident? The pressure for an arrest is immense."
"Find a way to link the murder to me," Shadow replied calmly. "I will take responsibility for it. If the authorities need a motive, I will have Liam confess all the horrific things his father did. You can then frame it as the Shadow coming to punish a man for his hidden crimes."
"In terms of skill, he is already elite," Alpha added, reviewing the data on how Liam moved. "He likely won't need the standard combat training."
"The only thing that remains," Beta included, "is to test his resolve."
"Alright. That will be all for today. Tomorrow, I will formally introduce him to all of you." The Knights nodded in unison and immediately went their separate ways.
🌑 The Midnight Awakening
At midnight, Liam's eyes snapped open. He sat upright, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings of the guest room. "Where am I... was that all a dream?" he muttered to himself.
"No, it wasn't," a voice replied from the darkness.
Terrified, Liam tensed up. "Who's there?!"
Shadow reached out and switched on the bedside lamp, filling the room with a soft glow. "It's me. You're awake," he said, leaning back in a chair in the corner of the room.
"Where are we? And... what exactly are you?" Liam asked, his confusion mounting. "Wait—have you been watching me sleep?"
"No, I arrived only a few minutes ago. This is my temporary base," Shadow replied. He took a short, deliberate pause before answering the second question. "I am Karma. I am the consequence of all bad deeds."
"Karma? Why did you decide to punish people for their crimes? Why are you playing god?" Liam asked, his voice echoing in the quiet room.
"Before I answer that, I'd like to ask you a question," Shadow replied, his tone steady. "Why do you think people do bad things repeatedly?"
"Maybe because their minds are evil and they love doing bad things," Liam responded.
"That's incorrect. If that were the case, everyone in the world would be seen as evil because that is human nature—everyone has the potential to commit evil. But is everyone evil?" Shadow asked.
"No," Liam replied. "Some are, but sometimes people do wrong things and when they realize it, they change and turn a new leaf."
"And is there a possibility that they would repeat that same action even after they've changed?"
"Yes, but you can't punish them for future crimes, can you?" Liam countered.
Shadow leaned forward slightly. "Now, lastly: what about the people they hurt? And the people they will hurt in the future? Who would save them? Who would protect their smiles?"
The question tore open a scar in Liam's heart. He remembered his mother and sisters. No one had saved them. No one had protected their smiles.
"If an action lacks consequences, said action is bound to repeat itself," Shadow added. "When we forgive, we often create more future victims. Your act of justice is not just revenge—it is a preventative measure. You would save others from ever experiencing the same horror you survived."
Liam thought of how his mother had forgiven his father over and over again. If she hadn't, maybe his sisters would still be alive. He realized the cold truth: in his father's case, forgiveness hadn't been mercy; it had been the catalyst for continuous evil.
"Only when people know their actions bear consequences will they think twice before they act," Shadow concluded. "When their own life is at stake, their actions will bear better fruit. I will be the consequence of their actions. I will be their shadow. Only then will they learn to be better. Now, I ask you again... will you walk this path with me?"
Liam immediately fell to one knee, his voice steady with newfound conviction. "I will serve you, my lord. I will follow your path and be their nemesis. For all who find pleasure in evil, I shall be their end."
Shadow rose from his seat and walked toward the kneeling young man. He placed a hand firmly on Liam's head.
"From now on, the name you shall answer to is Nemesis. As the sixth member of the Knights of Shadow, I grant you seven percent of all my abilities."
Almost instantly, a surge of violent, dark energy rushed into Liam. His eyes flared with a brilliant purple light, the sheer weight of the power making his breath catch. "This energy... it's too much," he managed to gasp, his body momentarily paralyzed by the upgrade. As his eyes returned to normal, he looked up at Shadow in total admiration. In that moment, he realized he wasn't just standing before a leader—he was face to face with a god.
The following day, Shadow conducted a formal introduction for the team. Alpha began walking Liam through the basics of their current operations and the layout of the apartment. However, the tour was cut short when Beta announced a major milestone: the permanent headquarters was finally complete. She had named it The Shadow's Labyrinth.
Once the introductions and base updates were finished, Shadow and Nemesis set out for the open field in the woods. It was time for a physical evaluation and a briefing on their next move.
Standing in the center of the scorched field, Shadow turned to his newest Knight. "Nemesis, I want to see your combat skills. Right now, you are going to fight me with everything you've got."
"Fight you?" Nemesis asked, his brow furrowing. "Is that even possible? My chances of winning are definitely zero."
"Don't worry, this is a test of combat only. I want to see your proficiency in hand-to-hand engagement."
"Alright," Nemesis answered, charging forward.
The two blurred into motion, exchanging a flurry of blows. They countered and defended with high-level precision. As the spar continued, Shadow began his mental assessment. Nemesis was great—technically perfect in many ways—but compared to the veterans like Alpha or Delta, he was currently the least effective in raw hand-to-hand combat, only surpassing Chaos in technical skill. While he possessed the lethal instincts and stealth of an assassin, his open-field martial arts were not yet at their peak.
After a short while, they came to a halt. Nemesis was breathing heavily, his body reaching its limit.
"Your hand-to-hand skill is impressive, but I doubt you could compete with the others yet—except Chaos, of course," Shadow said, walking closer. "Tell me, you killed your father with a sword. How proficient are you with a blade?"
"I only trained in martial arts for a short time," Nemesis replied, his eyes sharpening. "I dedicated the majority of my life to swordplay. Knives, needles, and blades... those are my specialty."
"Hmm... interesting," Shadow thought to himself. He teleported away, returning almost instantly with two gleaming practice swords. "I have never held a blade in my life, but I want to see how deep your mastery goes. Don't hold back—show me your full strength," he said, tossing one of the swords toward Nemesis.
Nemesis caught the hilt with fluid grace and smirked. "My apologies in advance, my lord, for the humiliation I'm about to give you."
"You're confident. Good. Let's proceed," Shadow replied.
They launched at each other, blades clashing with surgical precision. Shadow's heightened senses gave him a massive edge; for a first-timer, he was holding his own through sheer reaction speed. However, Nemesis's swordplay was beyond impeccable. Even with Shadow's adaptive copying skills, Nemesis's technique felt like reaching for the infinite—it was transcendent.
Nemesis, on the other hand, was stunned. For someone who had never picked up a sword, Shadow was adapting mid-strike, growing stronger with every parry. Nemesis eventually forced Shadow into a defensive corner and found a split-second opening. Just as he launched a finishing hit, Shadow teleported, escaping by a mere millisecond.
"You are impressive," Shadow said, genuine admiration in his voice. "Your swordplay is godlike. Truly transcendent."
"Thank you, my lord. I am not worthy of such praise," Nemesis said, bowing his head deeply.
"Regardless, there is something I need you to do," Shadow said, looking toward the horizon.
"What is it, my lord?" Nemesis asked.
"I want you to take over your mother's company. You are her only heir. Furthermore, you will go to the police and reveal the full extent of your father's hidden crimes," Shadow stated firmly.
Nemesis's tone dropped, heavy with sadness. "Forgive me, my lord, but I'd like to forget all of that... to start completely afresh."
"I know you want to leave the trauma behind," Shadow replied curiously. "But that company bears your mother's name. It is the last thing she truly owned. It was her life's work—the very thing that led to her fall. Do you think she would want you to run away from it?"
Nemesis went silent, the realization hitting him. Shadow was right; the company was his mother's sweat and blood. To let it wither away would be to lose the last piece of her. "Alright. I will do as you say, my lord."
"Before that, there is one more thing," Shadow said. He reached out telepathically, summoning the other Knights. In a flash of dark energy, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Chaos appeared in the field.
Shadow looked at the gathered team. "We are all going to the Flame Realm, Ron-Davak. I want to test your overall skill and teamwork against a truly superior opponent."
"Who is this opponent that requires all of us to fight at once?" Beta asked, her hand moving instinctively to her weapon.
Shadow took a short pause, looked back at them, and smiled a cold, challenging smile.