Shadow Being System

The tunnel was filled with a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the soft, muffled sobs of the surviving students. The air was thick with the smell of blood and dust, and the dim light from the flickering emergency lamps cast long, eerie shadows on the walls. The ground was littered with debris, shattered stones, and the remnants of the battle that had raged not long ago.

But the most harrowing sight of all was the rows of bodies laid out neatly on the cold, hard ground.

The fallen students and teachers were arranged with as much dignity as the survivors could manage in the aftermath of such chaos. Their faces were pale, smeared with dried blood and dirt, their eyes closed as if in uneasy slumber.

Some of the younger students, faces still wet with tears, stood trembling before the bodies of their friends, their expressions etched with a grief too raw and profound for words.

A boy knelt beside the still form of his best friend, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch the bloodied face. "You promised… you promised we'd graduate together…" His voice broke, the words dissolving into sobs.

The remaining teachers, soldiers, and students stood gathered around the fallen, their faces somber and pale. Each face told a story of pain, guilt, and sorrow—survivors of a nightmare that had claimed so many of their own. The soft weeping of the students was the only sound that dared to disturb the hushed stillness of the tunnel.

Then, General Zhao stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention. He stood tall and straight, his white robe glowing faintly in the dim light. His gaze swept over the assembled survivors, his expression grave, yet a fierce determination burned in his eyes.

"Everyone," he began, his voice clear and strong, cutting through the sorrow like a blade. The sobbing quieted as all eyes turned to him. "I know you're hurting. I know you're scared. I know you've lost friends, mentors, people you cared about. What you've experienced today is something no one should ever have to face."

He paused, letting his words sink in, his gaze lingering on the faces of the students. "These people lying here—they fought bravely. They gave their lives to protect you, to protect all of us. They didn't die in vain." His voice hardened, the air around him crackling with a barely contained intensity. "But I need you to understand something. This isn't over."

There was a murmur among the students, their tear-streaked faces looking at him with a mix of fear and confusion. General Zhao continued, his tone fierce and unyielding. "Some of you may be thinking of quitting, of walking away from all this, and I won't stop you. But before you make that choice, ask yourself this: If you turn your back now, what happens when they come for your families?

Your loved ones?"

A wave of shock rippled through the crowd. The students exchanged nervous glances, their expressions turning from sorrow to unease.

"Do you want them to die like the fallen here?" General Zhao's voice rose, his eyes blazing with a fierce light. "Do you want to be weak forever, to watch helplessly as the people you care about are taken from you?"

The students shook their heads, murmurs of "No, sir," spreading through the crowd. General Zhao stepped forward, his voice thundering now, filling the tunnel with a commanding presence that made the very air tremble.

"DO YOU WANT TO BE WEAK FOREVER?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls, a roar of defiance against the darkness that threatened to consume them.

"NO, SIR!" The response was louder this time, the students' voices filled with a raw, desperate energy. Some wiped their tears away, their faces setting into expressions of grim resolve.

General Zhao nodded, his gaze piercing and intense. "Does crying wipe away your tears? Does it bring them back?"

"No, sir!" they cried, their voices stronger now, more determined.

"Then stop crying and get stronger! Strong enough to protect your loved ones, strong enough to make sure this never happens again!" His words were like fire, igniting something deep within them, a spark of hope, of defiance.

"Yes, sir!" they shouted, their voices united in a single, powerful cry. There was no hesitation now, no uncertainty. Their resolve had been forged in the crucible of pain and loss, hardening into something unbreakable.

General Zhao looked at them, his expression softening slightly. "Good," he said quietly. "If you don't want this to happen again, if you want to be strong enough to protect your loved ones… then remember this moment. Remember it and let it drive you to become stronger."

The students, teachers, and soldiers turned to face the fallen, their postures straightening. In unison, they raised their hands in a solemn salute, honoring the dead with a silence filled with respect and sorrow.

General Zhao watched them for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to Commander Charles, who stood nearby, his arm still in a sling.

"Commander Charles," General Zhao said, his tone formal. "Leave some men here to guard the bodies. The base is sending a team to transport them home."

"Yes, sir," Commander Charles replied, saluting sharply despite his injuries. "I'll see to it immediately."

General Zhao nodded, his gaze lingering on the fallen for a moment longer. "Make sure they're treated with the respect they deserve," he said softly.

Charles's voice was filled with determination as he replied, "I will, sir. I swear it."

With a final, lingering glance at the silent ranks of the fallen, General Zhao turned away. "Let's move out," he ordered. "We're not done yet."

The soldiers and students began to move, their faces still pale but their steps steadier, their resolve renewed. The buses, now reduced by two, were waiting outside. The surviving students from the destroyed vehicles boarded the remaining buses, their eyes darting around as they tried to find seats.

The atmosphere inside the bus was heavy, the loss palpable in the empty spaces that should have been filled with their friends. Although they had lost two buses, the real loss was far greater—up to fifty students had fallen in the battle.

William lay unconscious on the back seat, his face pale but peaceful. Miss Mona sat beside him, her eyes soft as she looked at his still form.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the hum of the engine. Then her gaze sharpened as something in William's pocket caught her eye, a small, glimmering object peeking out from the fabric. Curiosity flickered in her eyes as she reached out, hesitating for a moment before she gently tugged the object free.

---

In a dimly lit room, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with unspoken words. A massive, round table dominated the space, surrounded by eleven chairs. Each chair was ornately crafted, its high back and intricate carvings denoting the importance of the one who would sit there. But one chair, larger and more imposing than the others, stood empty, its silence echoing ominously through the room.

The shadows around the table shifted as a deep, resonant voice spoke, filled with irritation. "Why was this meeting called? We had one recently. What's so urgent?"

A man seated across from the empty chair leaned forward, his eyes cold and hard. "The situation demanded it," he said curtly. "I just received word from one of my generals. The convoy transporting the students was attacked."

The others exchanged looks, their expressions darkening. A woman with sharp features and piercing eyes leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "We knew they would attack," she said dismissively. "That's what the soldiers are for, isn't it?"

The man's gaze turned icy as he continued. "They sent a Heretic."

A ripple of shock spread through the room, the others leaning forward, their eyes wide. "A Heretic?" one of them whispered, disbelief coloring his tone. "They sent a Heretic after children?"

"And not just that," the man added, his voice grim. "They also sent three beasts."

Gasps echoed around the table, the atmosphere growing colder. "How did they manage to get them onto Earth without us detecting them?" a man with a stern, angular face demanded.

The head general's face tightened. "It seems the Heretics have acquired a powerful concealing artifact. A spy managed to infiltrate the buses."

A booming voice erupted from the shadows, filled with rage. "This is an insult! We are the B10, and we can't even protect a group of students?"

There were murmurs of agreement around the table, the tension mounting as anger filled the room.

Then a calm voice, steady and composed, spoke, cutting through the noise. "How many casualties?"

The head general's expression turned somber. "Around fifty students."

The woman arched an eyebrow, her tone dismissive. "That's surprisingly low."

"Luckily, one of my generals was quick to respond," the head general said, his voice tight. "Otherwise, it would have been much worse."

The woman's gaze sharpened. "Good," she said softly. "But this was a direct attack. They're getting bolder."

The head general nodded, but then his expression shifted, a shadow of unease crossing his face. "There's more.

One of the students managed to kill a newborn-tier beast… without possessing an ability."

Stunned silence fell over the room, the members of the B10 staring at him in disbelief. Even the calm voice, usually unshakable, faltered. "No one has been able to do that except…" His voice trailed off, his eyes turning to the empty chair.

"HIM," the woman whispered, her gaze fixed on the vacant seat, a strange mixture of fear and reverence in her eyes.

The others nodded, their expressions thoughtful, shadows of old fears lurking in their eyes. The calm one's gaze hardened. "Keep an eye on that boy," he ordered quietly. "We must protect him… or be ready to kill him if he becomes a threat."

---

The world was a blur of white and light as William opened his eyes. His head felt heavy, his body aching with a dull, persistent throb. He blinked, his vision slowly clearing to reveal a stark, sterile room. The walls were painted a soft, clinical white, and the faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air.

"Where… am I?" he murmured, his voice hoarse and dry.

"Oh, you're awake!" A woman's voice, gentle and soothing, filled the air. William turned his head to see a nurse standing by his bed, her smile warm and reassuring.

"Where am I?" he asked again, his mind struggling to piece together the fragments of his memory.

The nurse's smile widened. "You're in the school clinic. You passed out after the battle. You're safe now."

Right, William thought, the events of the battle flooding back to him. The Heretics… the beasts… His head ached as he tried to remember everything. "We were attacked," he said slowly, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Did we… win?"

The system's voice, cold and clinical, echoed in his mind. "It appears so."

The nurse stepped forward, her movements brisk and efficient. "Let's run a few tests to make sure you're all right."

She took his pulse, checked his blood pressure, and asked him to follow her finger with his eyes. After a few more tests, she nodded, satisfied. "Everything looks good. You're in perfect condition."

She handed him a small handbook, her expression turning serious. "Your room number and a map of the school are inside. You should get some rest. You've been through a lot."

William nodded, his mind still hazy. "Where are my things?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"They should be in your room," the nurse replied. "You're in the dormitory now. Take it easy, all right?"

"Thank you," William murmured, his voice soft. He took the handbook and slowly pushed himself off the bed, his legs trembling slightly as he stood. The clinic was larger than he had expected, rows of beds stretching out in neat lines. Soldiers and students lay on the beds, some unconscious, others bandaged and pale, their faces etched with pain.

He made his way to the door, each step feeling like an eternity. As he stepped outside, the sunlight hit his eyes, blinding him for a moment. He raised a hand to shield his face, squinting at the bright sky above.

Opening the handbook, he glanced at the map inside. The school was massive, sprawling across a vast expanse with countless buildings and facilities—malls, restaurants, training grounds. It looked more like a small city than a school.

"So this is where I'm supposed to live until graduation," William muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings. "Now, where do I go for the admission process?"

He studied the map, his brow furrowing in frustration. "How the hell does one use this thing?, who even use maps nowadays."

A delicate voice, filled with amusement, sounded behind him. "Oh, look who's awake."

William turned, blinking in surprise. A woman in her twenties stood there, her military uniform pristine, the black and purple fabric hugging her form in a way that spoke of both elegance and authority.

"Hi, Miss Mona," William greeted, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

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