Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst
Chapter 74: This Void Ain’t Big Enough for the Two of Us

Chapter 74: This Void Ain’t Big Enough for the Two of Us

"You do not belong here."

Ronan and I both turned.

From the shadows near the far wall, a figure stepped forward, draped in deep gray robes, their hood casting a shadow that refused to let me see their face. This wasn’t your average everyday darkness... This was advanced darkness, heh.

I don’t want to jump the gun, for all we know this guy could be friendly, just trying to help us find the way out.

I let out a slow breath, my mind already running through a dozen different responses.

I went with, "Okay, so, I guess we’ll just get going, if you would be willing to show us to the exit we will be on our way."

Ronan, ever the one to state the obvious, simply muttered, "They are hostile."

"Well yeah, with that attitude they will be."

We stood there for a moment, staring at one another, or at least I figured he was staring at us, but I couldn’t really see his eyes. I was getting a little impatient at this point, and I’m sure Ronan was dying to start blasting. Taking a step forward with my hands up, I slowly approached the man.

"So, are we good, or?"

And then he pulled a wand from within his robe and I watched as it crackled with sickly green tendrils of energy.

"Plan C Ronan! Plan C!" I shouted.

"I will solve this with arson," Ronan declared as fire sprouted from his finger tips.

As they both fired their chosen spells at one another, I slipped into the shadows, ready to reposition myself behind the stranger, my daggers already in motion, ready to back-stab him as Ronan’s fire hit.

[Shadow Dance Activated]

[Mana: 30/100]

—and then I was yanked out of it. Not physically, no one forcefully grabbed me, but it was like the shadows spat me out.

One moment, I was stepping through them, the next, I wasn’t. My own shadows had rejected me. Well, shit. Still, it could be worse.

Then it got worse. A swirling cyclone of flaming death was nearly on me, having been released by Ronan toward its initial target, now unfortunately on its way to a new target. Me.

I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise which likely meant another wave of death was coming from behind me. I didn’t waste time and reactivated my second instance of Shadow Dance

, dipping back into them long enough to avoid that unintentional pincer attack.

[Shadow Dance Activated.]

This time I was ready for the attempt to eject me and managed to exert my will against the crashing wave that threatened to wrestle the shadows from my control. Time always seemed to work differently here, despite the fraction of a second I was moving it felt like I was waging a mental war for several minutes. After a significant struggle, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

From within the void, I could see the faint reaction of fire striking against whatever it was the potential cultist had fired toward us. The contact between both spells erupted in slow motion as I materialized behind the hooded stranger, not quite as ready to strike as I was the first time, but still, I had time.

Okay, I needed to stop saying stuff like that.

As I took my place and lunged my daggers forward, a blade of solid shadow lashed back at me. I twisted, barely dodging it. I hardly had time to react, this character was way faster than I anticipated. I ducked another swipe and lashed out with my own dagger, but they leapt back effortlessly, sailing through the air with a grace that put me to shame–well, the Caidan me. Lucian could have totally done that and looked a lot cooler.

Wait a minute... Lucian absolutely could have done that, in an eerily similar fashion. After a few more exchanges, and narrowly avoiding another blast in our general direction by Ronan–who appeared to actually try and avoid hitting me, bless his heart–, I started recognizing the flicker of light and shifts of shadow. This person wasn’t just evading my attacks, he wasn’t even just using shadow magic, he was actively manipulating like as though they shared a link with the void.

I took a moment to distance myself, both to figure out how the hell I was going to make it out of here alive, and also to allow Ronan a better opportunity to engage.

Ronan moved just as I made it to a safe distance.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand, fingers curling as arcane energy crackled to life, forming a concentrated bolt of raw sorcery. Unlike most mages who relied on complex incantations or external focuses, Ronan just willed magic into being—no theatrics, no wasted motion. It really was the perfect fit for his personality.

Ronan let loose the torrent of energy, but the cultist didn’t dodge, rather they redirected it.

A ripple of dark energy surged outward, catching Ronan’s spell mid-air and twisting it, sending it back at him in a spiraling arc.

Ronan’s eyes flashed with calculation, and in a blur of motion, he teleported two feet to the left, letting his own spell slam into the bookshelf behind him instead.

"Noted," Ronan said, already preparing another spell.

The entire shelf exploded, and so did my mind. "When the fuck did you learn how to blink? Why why did I have to waste so much of my mana when you can do this shit for free?" I shouted though it was pointless over all of the commotion.

Meanwhile, I had my own problems.

The cultist was on me again, their blade moving like liquid shadow, flickering between reality and nothingness. My movements felt a little sloppy and it took some time before I connected my Shadow Dance with what is happening now. This cultist had been on the offensive when I tried to jump behind him, and he was on the offensive now. He was managing to work his magic defensively, both literal and void, while still using it offensively.

I barely had time to process before the next attack came.

I had been in fights before. I had fought mages, assassins, chimera, and things I still didn’t have names for. But this felt more like I was being toyed with like I was out of my depth.

My breath came fast, my mind racing to catch up to what my instincts were already screaming.

God damn, he was good, way too good. If I didn’t stop him from dictating the flow of the fight, using shadows the way he was, we would be done for, and soon.

The blade of darkness lashed toward me again, fluid, erratic. It didn’t move like a normal weapon. It wasn’t constrained by weight or physics. I loved my daggers, but I seriously had to learn that skill.

I barely dodged, throwing myself backward just as Ronan let loose another burst of magic—this one colder, sharper, ice wouldn’t be a bad choice. If we could slow him down, we might be able to land a few hits.

Great job Ronan!

The cultist twisted his hand, and the shadows around him coiled, swallowing the freezing blast like it had never existed.

God dammit Ronan!

Ronan wasn’t deterred. He adjusted mid-cast, switching elements instantly, sending another spell crackling through the air, this time a pulse of raw force, the kind that shattered bones and sent bodies flying, and it actually hit.

I always believed in you, Ronan!

Oof, not quite the level of devastation I was looking for, not enough to end this, but enough to send the cultist skidding backward, his robes flaring unnaturally, which left a perfect opening for me.

I lunged, Shadow Dancing once more—

[Shadow Dance Activated.]

[Mana: 15/100]

—and... so did he?

For a fraction of a second, I thought I had him. I could feel the shadows bending to my will, but then, he was just standing there, menacingly. Then he darted toward me to meet head on, utter blackness surrounding us.

I didn’t have time to react before something slammed into my chest, a twisting wave of force tearing me out of the void before I could even complete the movement.

I was flying through the air when the darkness parted and found myself slamming into what felt like a wall.

How does he keep wrestling control of my own domain from me.

I surged to my feet just as the cultist advanced again, his void-like blade slicing down toward me. This time, I didn’t dodge outright.

This time, I let the shadows take me—but I forced them to take him, too.

[Shadow Dance Activated.]

The world around us warped, swallowed whole by pure darkness as I dragged him into the void with me.

For the first time, the cultist hesitated. Clearly he wasn’t expecting that. The battlefield had changed and it was mine again.

The shadow realm was vast, endless, and mine to command. It obeyed my will, so long as I controlled my emotions. I couldn’t let things get out of hand. The cultist stood across from me in the void, his blade of darkness twirling around in his fingertips.

"Impressive," he murmured, voice low, calm. "But reckless."

I had the perfect witty retort, but he was already on the move, surfing over the darkness with incredible speed, his stupid robes flapping behind.

I whirled, daggers up, just in time to block the downward arc of his shadow blade. The impact sent a jolt of power through my arms. I wanted to say we were evenly matched here, but where I may have had more power, he had so much more experience.

I bared my teeth in a grin. "Reckless is my middle name!"

I twisted my daggers, aiming to redirect his blade rather than fight its unnatural weight head-on. If I could break his stance—And then Pain... Blinding, searing pain that shot through my side.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up, jumping back instinctively, my fingers found the wound and traced the warm sticky wound.

My eyes flicked to the cultist who now held two blades. He had two fucking blades. The second one, identical to the first, flickered in his other hand, still dripping with my blood.

Did he summon it, no, I don’t believe so, I think he always had it and I hadn’t even noticed. I was slipping, all of this knowledge of magic and spell casting had dulled my killer instinct.

The void around us pulsed, shifting unnaturally, responding to the imbalance, I needed to change the game.

I flicked my gaze toward Ronan—still in the real world. He was ready and waiting, unsure as to where we would pop out next. I knew I could he would be able to help, but he couldn’t see me.

Racing to the side, I placed the cultist between Ronan and I, forming a pitiful attempt at a spell in my hands. I knew it wasn’t a lot, the cultist likely knew it wasn’t a lot, but it kept his focus on me, and that’s all I needed.

I reached out–as I had to Garrett–through our parasitic link.

"Ronan—now!"

He didn’t hesitate.

A detonation of pure magical force erupted from where I last saw him, triggered by the urgency of my internal voice. This wasn’t just some standard-ass magic missile, this was some kind of ultimate attack, or whatever technical term this world had for OP sorcerer blasts.

I released my hold on the shadow realm at the exact moment Ronan’s spell left his hands. We were ejected out of the darkness–I, into the wall behind me, and the cultist was flung back, into Ronan’s oncoming attack.

The cultist had zero time to react before Ronan’s magic swallowed him whole.

The air boiled, raw arcane energy crackling like a violent storm, collapsing inward on its target with an explosion of light and force that was anything but natural. I expected arson, and was met with something utterly terrifying. This was obliteration, absolute erasure.

His robes burned away first, the magic consuming fabric, then skin, then everything beneath. The cultist tried to step forward, tried to cling to the world, but there was nothing left to hold onto.

His body disintegrated, piece by piece, devoured by the raw force of Ronan’s unrelenting attack. His final scream cut off abruptly—not because he had died, but because he had simply ceased to be.

Then, silence.

The energy flickered, then dimmed. The walls of the strange void we had been trapped in peeled away, reality slamming back into place like an elastic band snapping back into position.

I slumped against the nearest wall, head spinning, body aching, and mana drained. My entire being screamed exhaustion, but I wasn’t the only one.

Ronan stood motionless, arms lowered, his entire body trembling. His breathing was steady, but that was about the only thing about him that wasn’t utterly wrecked. That spell... it had taken something out of him.

"Ronan..." I started, but words failed me.

That was... Fucking awesome...

Ronan exhaled, blinking as if only just now remembering where we were. "It was... Effective."

Understatement of the century.

I groaned, forcing myself upright. "Yeah, no shit, Ronan," and or a long moment, we just... stood there, staring at the absence of the cultist. Nothing remained, no robes, no ash, nothing.

I shuddered. "Alright, let’s get the hell out of here before I have time to process what just happened and have a full-blown existential crisis."

Neither of us had the energy for fancy magic tricks anymore, so we dragged ourselves out of the study, stumbling our way back toward my dorm. Each step was absolute agony.

By the time we reached my door, my brain was already shutting down, but at least we made it.

I twisted the handle. Unlocked. Caidan, you idiot, you really needed to start locking this damn—

I barely had time to register the room before I saw her... Mara... Standing dead center in the room... Holding my cloak... Lucian’s cloak...

Her fingers clenched around the fabric, her eyes locked onto me with something I couldn’t place.

Shock?

Anger?

Recognition?

Sorrow?

The door clicked shut behind us.