Hope poured his entire being into his movement, his body instinctively adapting to the rhythm of the shadows. Step by step, he felt himself growing more attuned to them, his speed gradually increasing. Yet, true mastery still eluded him—he could feel it, just beyond his grasp.

  The wyvern, its massive form barreling forward, watched in frustration as Hope’s figure flickered in and out of existence. One moment, the human was there—tangible, real. The next, he was gone, slipping between patches of darkness like a wisp of mist. The beast let out a guttural snarl, its reptilian eyes narrowing. ‘What trickery is this?’ It had hunted countless creatures, but never had it encountered a prey that moved in such an unnatural way.

  Still, it did not panic. The cave would not stretch on forever. Soon, it would reach the open sky, where its wings would grant it five times its current speed. Hope’s tricks would mean nothing then. No matter how fast the human ran, he would not escape.

  But Hope wasn’t thinking about escape—his mind was consumed by a single question.

  ‘How can I truly merge with the shadows? What am I doing wrong?’

  He was improving, that much was certain. His speed increased, his presence flickered, but he had yet to grasp the essence of the Phantom Steps. The first stage demanded more than mere speed; it required him to become the shadow—weightless, formless, slipping through the world without resistance.

  Yet, such a feat wasn’t easily attained. Even seasoned cultivators struggled with this level of movement. Affinity with shadows determined success, and while hard work played a role, Hope had not trained in this technique long enough to rely on sheer effort. Here, now, under the pressure of pursuit, only raw talent could carry him forward.

  Then—like a bolt of lightning—realization struck.

  ‘Shadows do not exist on their own; they are merely the world’s response to the presence of light. If I wish to merge with them, I must learn to exist like a shadow—not by force, but by adaptation.’

  Everything changed. His perspective shifted.

  He had been trying to merge into the shadows, forcing himself to blend into the darkness. But shadows did not struggle to exist—they simply were. If he wanted to move like one, he couldn’t impose himself upon them. He had to surrender to their nature, to dissolve into the ebb and flow of the shifting light.

  Hope’s movements grew more silent, his form flickering from shadow to shadow like a phantom. His speed surged, his presence thinning, until it seemed as though only a wisp of darkness darted through the cave—appearing and vanishing in an unpredictable rhythm.

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  The Flame Wyvern snarled in frustration. A moment ago, it had been certain of its ability to hunt down this insignificant human. Now, its keen eyes struggled to distinguish between the natural darkness of the cave and Hope’s ever-shifting form. Its fury boiled over. With a roar, it unleashed a fireball the size of Hope, its core infused with fire intent, the very embodiment of destruction.

  The air behind Hope ignited, the temperature surging to unbearable levels. Yet he did not turn back. He didn’t even react. Instead, he dove deeper into his thoughts.

  ‘To move like a shadow, I must let go of rigidity. If I impose my presence, I cast a shadow. But if I become the shadow, I will leave no trace.’

  His presence thinned to near nothingness. His body no longer felt solid—it became ethereal, indistinct, like mist caught in a breeze.

  The fireball roared toward him, a searing force that could melt stone in an instant. Yet, at the last moment, Hope shifted. Not dodged—shifted. His body flowed like smoke, slipping through space with eerie ease, the inferno missing him entirely. Behind him, the cave wall melted into a molten pit, bubbling with liquid heat.

  The wyvern’s patience snapped. Its nostrils flared, exhaling clouds of scorching steam, and its fury erupted in an ear-splitting roar.

  “ROAR!”

  It had had enough of this game. Enough of this elusive prey. It no longer wanted to simply kill Hope—it wanted to break him. To catch him, pin him down, and make him suffer for its humiliation.

  But Hope was no longer paying attention. Even if he had known the wyvern’s thoughts, he wouldn’t have cared. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the depths of understanding.

  Then—another realization struck, clearer than before.

  ‘A shadow does not move on its own; it follows the world’s rhythm. I must move when the world moves, disappear when the world shifts, and exist only when I am unnoticed.’

  His form flickered—no longer fully bound to reality. His presence became like a whisper, a suggestion of existence rather than something tangible. He was still there, but barely—his body tethered to the physical world by only the faintest of anchors.

  The wyvern’s eyes widened. It could barely track him now. The moments it could sense Hope were cut in half. It no longer saw its prey—it only ran forward, chasing the mere assumption that Hope was still ahead. A flicker here, a glimpse there—nothing more.

  Hope, lost in his revelations, remained unaware of his transformation. In his mind, the wyvern was still on his heels, easily keeping pace, still able to see him. His thoughts spiraled ever deeper.

  ‘Shadows do not fight; they exist where they are allowed to. If I move as the world dictates, I will never be detected.’

  Hope’s flickering presence grew fainter. Each time he reappeared, the interval stretched longer—until his form was barely more than a ghostly afterimage, slipping further and further from reality.

  All of this happened in an instant.

  The Flame Wyvern had lost its lead. It no longer saw its prey, only chased the assumption that Hope had no choice but to flee. There was nowhere else to go—no hidden paths, no escape routes. If the human turned back, he would run straight into its claws, sealing his own fate. He was a rat in a tunnel with a tiger at his heels.

  So the wyvern pressed on, driven by fury, by the primal need to kill. This ant had dared to make a fool of it in its own domain. If it let him go, others might one day be foolish enough to follow. That could not be allowed.

  But just as the beast resolved to end this hunt—

  Hope’s thoughts crystallized into a single, absolute truth.

  ‘I do not walk through shadows; I am the shadow.’

  His existence unraveled. His body vanished.

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