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Chapter 68: The Presence That Wasn't
By the time Lyrian stepped back onto the open training field behind the main arena, the crowd had started thinning. The sun now dipped low, casting long, golden shadows across the cracked stone.
He'd been gone longer than expected.
The final clash of the first day echoed faintly in the distance—a flash of light, the roar of an ability being unleashed—followed by fading applause.
He spotted them immediately.
Elyreina stood with arms crossed, her brows tightly drawn, face flushed—not from exertion, but frustration.
Reynard leaned lazily against the railing, glancing toward the center ring. Dorian sat on the stone bench nearby, his eyes calm but slightly narrowed at Lyrian's approach.
The moment Elyreina saw him, her expression changed.
Not relief.
Sharp, stern worry.
"There you are!" she hissed, stepping toward him. "Where the hell did you go?"
Lyrian opened his mouth to respond, but she didn't wait.
"You missed my match," she said, voice tight, eyes sharp. "You—you said you'd watch it. I looked. I looked for you, Lyrian."
"I—" He paused. The words stuck. He lowered his eyes briefly. "Something came up. I… needed to check something."
"Check what?" Reynard asked, tone suddenly more serious.
Dorian's eyes narrowed further. "You don't just vanish like that, not in this place."
Lyrian hesitated.
"There's something off about that Contestant… 1172," he said at last. "I just… felt it. I had to follow him."
There was a short pause.
Then—
"You mean that guy over there?" Reynard pointed with a flick of his head.
Lyrian turned sharply.
And froze.
There—against a far wall, half-hidden in the shadow of a crumbled pillar—stood Contestant 1172.
Back resting casually against the stone. Arms crossed. Head slightly tilted downward. His face was obscured by a half-mask—black and seamless. Only silver eyes peeked through, closed as though resting.
He didn't move.
Didn't react.
Didn't even breathe.
A black attire clung to his frame like smoke. No insignia. No symbol. No aura.
Lyrian's voice was faint. "Didn't I just…"
He trailed off.
He had followed him. That figure. That presence. The chase, the whispers, the vanishing wall—
And now he was here. As if nothing had happened.
Dorian stared hard. "I feel nothing from him."
Elyreina's gaze sharpened. "Nothing?"
"No mana. No presence. As if…" Dorian frowned. "As if he wasn't even there. And yet… he is."
Reynard crossed his arms. "It's like the air bends around him. You ever get that feeling someone's watching you—but when you look, there's nothing?"
Lyrian nodded slowly.
"That's him."
They all watched in silence.
The figure never opened his eyes.
Never flinched.
Never moved.
Just existed.
Barely.