Chapter 16

Special Tournament 4

The voice shook Shiro to his core. He spun around, startled.

“Hey Shiro, how was the fight, buddy?”

The man standing behind him was pale, with raven-black hair and eyes darker than the void itself.

Shiro relaxed once he recognized him. “O-Oh, hey Myrrh. The fight... it was fantastic. Honestly, I didn’t know Aurelia was that capable!”

Myrrh smiled, his gaze drifting from Shiro to the card still resting in his hand.

He turned to a young woman nearby, pulled out 50,000 Won from his coat pocket, and gently placed it into her palm. Her eyes lit up.

“May I please have your seat?” he asked, gesturing toward another one.

Without hesitation, the woman jumped up and practically skipped away. Laughing, Myrrh said, “Always works! Man, a commoner will do anything for money nowadays. I’m speaking from experience!”

He chuckled again, far more animated than Shiro had ever seen. Until now, Myrrh had always worn a blank expression like stone.

Shiro blinked. “What happened to you?”

Sliding into the seat beside him, Myrrh leaned back. “Well, I’ve figured out a little about your curse. If you study the unique patterns and get a book that maps their connections, you’ll start getting answers. From what I’ve uncovered, it’s tied to your mental state.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. He looked down at his wrist, where strange markings pulsed faintly.

Myrrh’s eyes flicked back to the card. “Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but… what’s with that paper?”

Shiro had almost forgotten. The moment he glanced at it, the memory of the grotesque figure and the suffocating fear came rushing back. Wordlessly, he handed it over.

Myrrh examined the card, and his expression shifted his eyes widened, and a wide, unsettling grin spread across his face.

“So… they’ve taken a liking to you,” he muttered.

Shiro frowned. “What?”

Myrrh blinked. “Oh, nothing! Just talking to myself. But this card… it’s strange.”

His face darkened. He looked at Shiro, his playful demeanor gone. His voice turned cold, serious.

“Shiro, after this group finishes, meet me in the special training room. We’ll talk at your dorm after that.”

Shiro tensed, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. “Wait, I live with Aeris. How am I supposed to explain you coming over?”

Myrrh scratched his temple. “What?”

“I lost my room cause I had to fight a wild animal… Don’t you remember? You were the first person I asked for help!”

Myrrh stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Wow, they didn’t tell you anything, huh? Probably because you’re weak.”

Shiro glared. “Excuse me?” He clenched his fists.

“Forget I said that! Look, this tournament’s gonna go on for weeks. To keep us all sharp, the area has temporary training dorms. I don’t know what shape yours’ll be in, but you’ll survive.”

Shiro frowned, already picturing a crumbling ceiling and a suspiciously leaky sink.

Myrrh grinned. “You’re living with Aeris, right? I’m not surprised. They probably don’t care what happens to you.”

Shiro blinked. “Yeah…?”

Myrrh tapped Shiro’s forearm repeatedly. “Since you’re sharing a space with her, you two done anything yet?”

Shiro’s face turned red. “W-What? No! I don’t even talk to her that much… but I mean, if I could, I probably wou—”

A deafening roar from the crowd cut him off. Both men turned toward the arena.

On the platform below lay a battered girl with green hair and light eyes, clutching her leg. A trail of blood led from her thigh to her chest, where a deep spear wound pulsed. She stared up, terrified.

Standing above her was a tall man gripping a long, dark-gray spear. Its tip gleamed silver. His long hair flowed like ink caught in the wind, black at the roots, fading to white at the tips, woven into a thick side plait.

A screen appeared before the crowd, zooming in on his face.

Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Wait… are his irises shattered?”

The man’s left iris looked like shattered glass, broken into three shards. Each shard revealed a different perspective—two pointed toward the arena floor, while one stared behind him. The right iris was split into two fragments, both facing forward.

Myrrh rubbed his chin. “Could be. I’ve never seen him before, so I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

The man smiled, wild, predatory.

Suddenly, from the far end of the arena, another figure rounded the corner. He looked exactly like the spear wielder, only paler and sickly. He shuffled forward, loose clothing hanging off his frame.

A second copy followed, fists already drenched in blood, face flushed with rage.

Then came a third, fully armored, wielding a small arsenal: daggers, katanas, spears, greatswords.

A fourth emerged, heavier, panting heavily, leaning on both his spear and a cane.

Finally, a fifth clone leapt from the corner, this one more attractive, with tighter, revealing clothes. He blew kisses toward the screaming girls in the audience.

The clones circled the fallen girl, laughing cruelly. Then, without warning, they turned and walked toward the original. One by one, they jumped into his irises.

Each clone vanished into the fractured shards of his eyes. When the man blinked, his irises were whole again.

The girl on the floor had lost consciousness.

Lifting his spear in the air, he basked in the crowd’s thunderous cheers. A message flashed across the arena screen:

WINNER: ASH MARROW

Shiro turned to say something to Myrrh, but froze when he saw his friend’s face.

Pale. Whiter than the stars.
And trembling.