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Chapter 11 - A Shadow that Smiles (Part 2)

The Director didn't open the folder. He didn't need to. His hands rested lightly on the table, fingers precise, like a pianist before the first note.

"You bound something inside that Rift." His voice was calm, conversational. "Not a beast. Not a soldier. A Warden."

Asta kept his face still.

The Director's smile was the kind that belonged at funerals. "Do you know what that makes you?"

"No."

"Impossible."

The lights hummed above them. Asta's shadow lay flat on the floor. The hound curled in it, unseen, teeth pressing against the leash of his will. The Black Knight loomed behind him, silent, blade hovering at the Director's throat.

The Director's shadow twitched. Wrong. It didn't follow the light. It bent toward Asta's, like a beast sniffing an old scar.

Asta felt his gut tighten. The System hissed in his head.

[Warning: Unidentified Entity - Shadow Affinity Detected.]

[Recommendation: Conceal Devour Command.]

The Director leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You've got two choices, Hollow. You give me the leash." His eyes glinted. "...Or I take it."

Asta smiled, teeth blood-stained. "Try."

The Director's grin sharpened. Shadows licked across the floor, inching toward Asta's boots.

The System pulsed hard.

[Commandment Three: Devour Available.]

[Target: Director's Shadow Probe.]

[Y/N?]

Asta's jaw clenched. The hound growled, soundless. The Knight leaned closer, eyes burning.

He whispered, low. "Yes."

The probe touched his shadow.

And screamed.

The Director's smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed a fraction. His shadow snapped back, curling tight under his chair.

Asta exhaled. His chest ached, but the power coiled inside him, heavier, hungrier.

[Devour Successful.]

[Shadow Resistance +1.]

The Director tilted his head, curious, like a butcher measuring a knife. "So. Not just Hollow."

He stood. "Enjoy the room. You'll have it for as long as you're useful."

The door hissed shut behind him.

Asta leaned back in the chair, sweat cold at his temple. The hound pressed against his boot, the Knight steady at his back.

For the first time, he realized: the Guild wasn't here to protect him. It was a cage. And the Director wasn't a warden.

He was competition.

*

Lysandra's room wasn't white. It was gray.

Concrete walls. One chair, no table. No camera light, though she knew it was there. The tarp was gone, peeled off her like skin. Her armor sat in the corner, cracked and still faintly glowing with that black crystal seam.

The guard leaned on the wall, rifle loose in his grip. Too casual. The kind of man who thought a woman in chains couldn't hurt him.

"Pretty suit of metal you had," he drawled. "Not guild-issue. Where's it from?"

Lysandra sat silent, hands chained to the chair arms. Her gray eyes tracked him without moving.

He shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of it. "Don't want to talk? Fine. The Director'll pry it out of you. He's good at that. Real good."

She smiled then. Small. Not kind. "You should pray he doesn't."

"What?"

Her chains rattled. She leaned forward just enough that the overhead light carved her face in half—one pale, one shadow. "Because if he touches me, the thing you're afraid of touching you? Will follow."

The guard swallowed.

The door hissed. The Director stepped in, smile sharp as ever. "Scaring my men, Lysandra?"

She leaned back. "I don't scare easy."

His eyes flicked to her armor. "Not a Breaker. Not a citizen. Not in the Registry." He tilted his head. "Where does that put you?"

"Off your map."

He laughed softly. "Good. Maps are boring."

Her gaze didn't shift. "He'll burn you, you know. The boy. He doesn't even understand the leash yet, and already you're tugging it."

The Director crouched beside her chair, smile too close. "And you think you'll teach him?"

She leaned in until her chained wrists creaked. "No. I'll make sure he survives long enough to learn himself."

The Director studied her like she was a riddle. Then he stood, brushing invisible dust from his coat. "You both think you're players. You're still pieces."

The door hissed again. Gone.

Lysandra's chains rattled once, then stilled. She exhaled, slow.

Under her breath, barely audible:

"Asta. Don't bend."

The lock clicked. Asta's door hissed open again. Not the Director this time. Two guards. One carrying restraints.

"On your feet," the taller one barked. "Director wants you moved."

Asta stood slow, shadows twitching. The hound pressed at his heel, the Knight's eyes burning faint in the corner of the room.

"Wrists," the guard said.

Asta raised his hands. The cuffs snapped shut, cold, steel, humming faint with anti-essence runes. His shadow recoiled, hissing.

They shoved him into the hall. Sterile light. Cameras above. Boots echoing.

The System whispered:

[New Trigger: Cage Sequence.]

[Objective: Escape or Bend.]

[Optional: Devour - Restraints.]

The cuffs vibrated against his skin. Hungry. He flexed his fingers. The Black Knight loomed in his shadow, waiting.

"Move," the guard snapped, shoving him.

Asta smiled faint. "Alright."

He whispered: "Devour."

The cuffs screamed in silence. Cold burst up his arms. The runes cracked, light sputtering. The guards froze.

"What the-"

The restraints fell in shards. Asta caught one before it hit the ground. His shadow curled up it, swallowing the rune-light whole.

[Devour Successful.]

[New Resistance: Anti-essence bindings +1.]

The taller guard reached for his rifle. The hound leapt first, teeth in his throat. The man dropped without sound.

The other froze, eyes wide. "Please-"

Asta's smile was thin. "Run."

The man bolted.

The Knight stepped free of the shadow, blade dragging sparks from the tile.

Asta turned down the hall. Cameras blinked red. Sirens started to wail.

The System chimed:

[New Objective: Escape Inquiry.]

[Optional: Rescue External Vessel.]

Asta's grin sharpened. "Lysandra," he whispered.

The Knight lifted its sword.

And they moved.

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