The night after their victory was anything but peaceful.
Campus lights were off early, but Riku couldn't sleep. His dorm window looked down on the main court—empty, except for faint flickers of blue energy dancing across the hoops.
Residual soul energy, Lira murmured from his shadow.
"Yeah," Riku said softly. "That lightning girl burned the court up."
"Not hers. Something older. Something watching."
Before Riku could answer, a faint ping echoed from his wristband.
A black notification blinked. No sender. No source. Just three words:
> "You've been chosen."
He tapped it. A dark sigil spread across the band, then shattered into glowing dust.
The dust formed a symbol in the air — a swirling eye of smoke and gold.
Lira's tone turned cold. "That's impossible."
"Wanna fill me in before I freak out?" Riku asked.
"That's the mark of the Shadow League… an underground Soul Court that was banned five years ago. Matches there aren't for ranking. They're for souls."
Riku stared at the fading light. "So… death basketball."
"Exactly."
---
Next morning, Riku didn't mention it. Not to Kaori. Not to Iris. Not to Serene.
He tried to bury it in training drills, but his spirit link pulsed irregularly all day, like someone tapping on his heartbeat.
During evening scrimmage, Iris noticed. "You good, phantom boy? You're off rhythm."
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You almost dribbled into the water cooler."
"Maybe I was aiming for a refresh."
She snorted, then passed the ball with a spark of lightning. "Don't fry out before playoffs."
But that night, the mark reappeared—burning on his wrist, glowing red this time.
And a voice, distorted and heavy, echoed in his head.
> "Midnight. Court 13. No spectators. One-on-one. Refusal means deletion."
Lira's eyes flashed purple. "You're not going."
"I don't have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
"Not this time," he said, grabbing his shoes. "If they're hunting me, I'll hunt back."
---
Court 13 was abandoned—cracked floorboards, rusted rims, no lights.
Riku stepped inside; the world went dark. Literally. The air shimmered and folded inward like ink in water.
The court transformed—lines glowing red, hoops hovering in the air, stands filled with shadowy silhouettes whispering like ghosts.
A figure emerged from the far side—tall, cloaked, a black mask with a grin carved into it.
"Welcome, Riku Vane," the voice drawled. "You've drawn attention… the Shadow League doesn't like rising stars."
"Cool story. Who are you supposed to be?"
"Name's Shade. Recruiter. Winner joins the League. Loser loses their spirit."
Lira stepped out beside him, eyes blazing. "You'll regret stepping onto this court."
Shade laughed. His spirit appeared—an armor-clad phantom with four arms, each holding a chain-ball.
"Game start."
---
The ball spawned in midair.
Shade moved first—chains snapping like whips, grabbing the ball before it hit the floor. He launched it toward the hoop, the impact cracking the air itself.
Riku barely deflected it, shadows bursting from his fingertips.
"Too slow," Shade hissed, reappearing behind him.
"Try again," Riku said, spinning low, bouncing the ball off his own shadow—it warped like liquid and launched upward. Lira's silhouette merged into his, amplifying his speed tenfold.
They collided midcourt—light versus darkness—every hit echoing like thunder.
"Lira, now!"
She dissolved into mist, wrapping around the ball. Riku dashed forward, every step leaving trails of phantom afterimages. He threw the ball through the mist, vanishing from sight.
Shade swung his chains wildly, trying to block.
But the ball reappeared behind him.
BAM!
It slammed through the hoop, bursting into black flame.
Point one — Phantom.
The crowd of shadows screamed.
Shade's laughter was low and sharp. "Good. Let's raise the stakes."
His spirit split into four, each clone grabbing a chain-ball. They surrounded Riku.
Lira hissed, "He's using a Soul Split. That drains life."
"Then he's desperate," Riku said, eyes narrowing.
Chains flew. Riku ducked, spun, backflipped—one wrapped around his ankle, yanking him midair. Shade lunged, eyes glowing red.
But before the hit landed, Riku slammed his palm to the floor. "Phantom Echo!"
A shockwave burst out. The court flipped into a shadow mirror—suddenly Riku stood behind Shade, unharmed.
He launched a perfect arc shot.
The ball cut through smoke, spinning once before dropping clean through.
Point two — Phantom.
The crowd howled.
Shade fell to one knee, his mask cracking. "You… shouldn't exist."
Riku smirked. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
Shade raised a hand. "The League will come for you. You're marked now."
The air dissolved, the court reverting to silence. Shade's body faded, leaving behind a black badge floating in the air.
Riku caught it.
It read:
> "Invitation Accepted."
Lira floated beside him, voice low. "You didn't win. You just opened the door."
Riku stared at the glowing badge in his palm. "Then let's kick it down."
---
The next morning, he arrived at the academy gym like nothing happened.
Kaori raised a brow. "You look like you wrestled a thunderstorm."
Riku smiled faintly. "Something like that."
On his wrist, the shadow mark pulsed once—faint, but alive.
And far beneath the academy, in an underground arena lit by crimson fire, masked figures watched a replay of his match on a giant obsidian screen.
A woman's voice—smooth, teasing—echoed through the dark:
"Interesting. So the Phantom returns."
A swirl of violet energy shaped itself into a grin.
> "Let's welcome him properly."
To be continued...