The recovery chamber hissed open, releasing a faint mist that smelled of ozone and antiseptic.
Riku stepped out, bandages hidden beneath his jacket, movement slow but steady. The med-bots had finished repairing the muscle tears, yet the black threads under his skin still pulsed faintly like living veins.
"Vitals stable," a voice announced over the speakers. "Resonance containment: seventy-one percent."
Lira appeared beside him, arms folded. Seventy-one? That's dangerously low.
He cracked his neck. "Then I'll stay dangerous."
You'll stay stupid.
"Same thing."
---
By evening, the academy's central concourse was alive again. Students crowded around the holographic boards as rankings flickered across the sky-screens.
Names climbed, others fell.
When Riku's name flashed #12 – Riku Vane (Phantom), the noise doubled.
Kaori found him at the base of the stairs. "Twelfth already. You just keep breaking math, don't you?"
He shrugged. "Guess I'm allergic to limits."
Serene arrived with her tablet. "Don't get comfortable. The next announcement is coming in—"
The boards shifted, gold lettering rippling through the air.
> Round of 16 – Next Match:
Riku Vane (Phantom) vs Alren Kyss (Mirage)
A low murmur spread. Even Kaori's grin faded.
"Mirage…" she muttered. "He's not a power player. He's a nightmare."
Riku raised an eyebrow. "You fought him?"
"Watched him. Once." She swallowed. "His opponent forfeited mid-game. Said the court turned on him."
Serene added quietly, "His spirit, Spectra, manipulates perception. Every move you make, every light, every sound—you'll question if it's real."
Riku smirked. "Sounds fun."
"Fun?" Kaori snapped. "You can't fight what you can't see!"
He looked down at the faint shadows curling beneath his feet. "Then I'll fight with what can't be seen."
---
That night, rain whispered against the dorm windows.
Riku sat on the sill, the city's neon glow washing over him. He spun a basketball on one finger, letting it trace slow circles of light.
You're not sleeping again, Lira said.
"Can't," he answered. "Every time I close my eyes, I see that singularity again. Like it's still pulling me."
That's because your resonance hasn't settled.
He stopped the spin, catching the ball in both hands. "What do you know about Mirage?"
Enough. Illusion-types don't alter the mind; they alter the world's reflection. They bend light through soul energy, forcing your perception to rebuild false images. If he's skilled, even spirits can get lost in them.
"So it's not hypnosis," Riku said. "It's editing reality."
Exactly. He can make you miss without realizing you missed.
He grinned faintly. "Then I'll just play like I'm blind."
Lira blinked. You're serious.
"Always."
---
Past midnight, he headed for the empty training hall.
The rain had stopped, leaving the court shining like glass.
He dribbled once—thud echoed, clean.
Second bounce—echo split, double.
He froze.
The sound came from two directions.
He turned. The arena was empty, yet a faint outline stood at the opposite baseline—his own silhouette, dribbling a ball in perfect sync.
It looked up and smiled.
"Who—"
The figure flickered and vanished.
Lira materialized instantly. Did you feel that?
"Yeah," he muttered, scanning the corners. "He's testing me already."
Impossible. The match isn't until tomorrow.
"Tell that to the reflection."
He glanced at the scoreboard—it was lit.
Both names already displayed.
PHANTOM vs MIRAGE
Score: 0 – 0.
The lights shut off at once.
---
Morning.
The Soul Arena was different this time—half in darkness, half drenched in gold. The floor gleamed like a mirror, reflecting the ceiling so perfectly it was impossible to tell which way was up.
Crowds whispered, unsettled. Even Kaori looked uneasy. "This isn't a normal court."
Serene nodded. "He's already activated Spectra. The match begins the moment Riku steps inside."
Riku walked forward, eyes scanning the warped reflections that shimmered like liquid mercury.
From the opposite end, Alren Kyss appeared—tall, pale, eyes like cracked glass. His uniform was pristine, every movement measured.
"Riku Vane," he greeted politely. "The Phantom Dribbler. I've watched your matches."
"Hope the highlight reel did me justice."
"It did," Alren said. "But highlights are illusions. I prefer reality… or rather, the version I control."
He raised a hand. The mirror-floor rippled outward like disturbed water. Dozens of ghostly players rose from it—each an exact copy of Riku, ball and all.
The crowd gasped.
Kaori whispered, "This is his skill… Court Mirage."
---
Riku stepped forward until his reflection lined up with one of the copies. It blinked when he blinked, smirked when he smirked.
Then it moved first.
The copy dribbled, vanished, and reappeared behind him, ball passing between its legs. The real ball in Riku's hands glowed faintly and vanished too.
"What the—"
Lira's warning cut through the chaos. Don't chase it! These are projections built from your own soul-signature!
Riku focused, closing his eyes. Fine. Then I'll stop trusting sight.
He felt the vibrations underfoot—the subtle pulse of each bounce, the faint distortion of energy where illusion touched reality.
He dashed forward, eyes still closed, body moving purely on instinct.
The first phantom lunged—he ducked under it.
Second came from the left—he sidestepped, spinning.
He grabbed a ball midair; it sizzled with static—real.
He hurled it. The rim ahead shimmered, splitting into three.
He chose the center.
Swish.
The crowd erupted.
"Point 1 – Phantom!"
---
Alren smiled faintly. "Impressive. You ignored my world."
Riku wiped sweat from his jaw. "You can't fake rhythm. The ball tells the truth."
Alren's eyes glinted. "Then let's see if you can hear it when there's no sound at all."
He snapped his fingers.
The world went silent.
---
Everything froze—crowd, echoes, even Lira's voice. The ball left Riku's hand, yet he couldn't hear it bounce. His heartbeat roared in his ears, then vanished too.
He was alone in a mute mirror.
Across from him, ten versions of himself began to move, all at once.