Arden woke to white walls and the sharp smell of medicinal herbs.
The infirmary.
Again.
How many times have I woken up here? Three? Four?
He tried to sit up.
Pain exploded through his torso.
"Don't move." A stern voice. The head healer—a woman named Magda with iron-gray hair and no patience for stupidity. "You have four fractured ribs, severe lacerations across your back and chest, a concussion, and enough internal bruising that you should be dead."
"But I'm not."
"No. You're not. Which is either a miracle or proof that you're too stubborn to die properly." She moved to check his bandages. "The rangers brought you back three days ago. You've been unconscious since."
Three days.
"The Shadow Devil core—"
"Is secure. Captain Voss made sure of it. Apparently couldn't stop talking about 'tactical applications' and 'legendary partnerships' until Lieutenant Riza threatened to shoot him."
Despite the pain, Arden smiled.
"How long until I can move?"
"Two weeks of bed rest. Minimum."
"I don't have two weeks."
"Then you'll die. Your choice." Magda's expression was flat. "You pushed your body beyond its limits. At twelve years old. Do you understand how much damage that causes to developing bones and muscles?"
I understand perfectly. I've done worse in my past life.
But this body is twelve. It doesn't have the resilience of a twenty-five-year-old soldier.
"I need to integrate the core," Arden said. "The Shadow Devil core. Before my body fully heals."
Magda stared at him. "You want to undergo Integration while recovering from near-fatal injuries?"
"The core attunes better during recovery. Body and mana are both in flux. It's the optimal window."
"That's insane."
"It's tactical." Arden met her eyes. "I nearly died obtaining that core. I'm not waiting two weeks to use it."
Magda was quiet for a long moment.
"You sound like a veteran. Not a child."
Careful.
"The frontier ages you fast."
"Apparently." She sighed. "Fine. But you're doing it under supervision. Mine. If your heart rate spikes above safe levels, I'm terminating the Integration whether you like it or not."
"Agreed."
She returned with the Shadow Devil core an hour later.
It was still pitch black, still pulsing with those internal red flames.
Arden took it carefully.
The moment his skin touched it, information flooded his mind.
But this time, it was different.
More... complete.
Because I killed it in combat. Earned it through survival. The connection is stronger.
"I need privacy," he said.
"You need supervision."
"Then supervise quietly."
Magda rolled her eyes but moved to the corner of the room, arms crossed.
Arden settled into a meditative position—as much as his injuries allowed.
He held the core against his chest, over his Mana Heart.
Then began the Integration process.
Integration First Step: Attunement
He circulated his mana through the core.
Feeling its nature. Its essence. Its memories.
The Shadow Devil had been old. Ancient, even for its species.
It had hunted for decades. Killed hundreds. Survived through cunning and ruthlessness.
And in its final moments, it had faced something it didn't understand.
A prey that refused to stay prey.
A child that spoke words of power and defiance.
The poem.
Arden felt the memory of his recitation echoing through the core.
"I walked through shadow, blade in hand..."
The words had done something. Changed something.
Not just in him.
In the world around him.
That shouldn't be possible.
Poetry isn't magic in this world. I didn't write it that way. The game company didn't implement it.
So where did it come from?
The answer came not in words, but in understanding.
From me. From Marcus Chen who wanted to be a poet. From Arden Valekrest who needed to survive. From the space between them where impossible things become real.
I created something new. Something that shouldn't exist.
Combat poetry. Mana channeled through verse. Will made manifest through words.
This is mine. My original creation. Not from my novel. Not from the game. Not from this world's magic system.
Mine.
The realization was exhilarating and terrifying.
If I can create new magic... what else can I change?
Integration Second Step: Absorption
Arden guided the core into his Mana Heart.
The process was usually uncomfortable.
This time, it was agonizing.
His ribs felt like they were breaking again.
His heart hammered against his chest.
Sweat poured down his face.
"Heart rate spiking," Magda warned. "You need to slow down."
"Can't. The core is resisting."
"What?"
"It's fighting the Integration. It doesn't want to submit."
Because it was an apex predator. Because it died fighting. Because submission isn't in its nature.
The world around Arden dissolved.
Everything went white.
Pure, empty white that stretched infinitely in all directions.
The Integration space. The place where soul meets core.
And there, standing before him, was the Shadow Devil.
Not the core.
The creature itself.
Seven feet tall. Blade-arms extended. Red eyes burning with rage and defiance.
It made no sound.
Just stared at him with pure hostility.
It still wants to kill me.
Even in death, it refuses to submit.
Arden met those red eyes steadily.
"I killed you in combat. Fair fight. I earned your power."
The Shadow Devil growled—a sound like grinding stone, like reality tearing.
It raised its blade-arms.
Still wants to fight. Even now.
"You can resist," Arden said. "You can make this difficult. But eventually, you'll submit. That's how Integration works."
Another growl, deeper, more threatening.
"Or..." Arden stepped forward. "You can listen to what I have to say."
The creature didn't lower its weapons, but it didn't attack either.
"You were strong. An apex predator. Survived for decades when your entire species went extinct."
Arden's voice was calm, matter-of-fact.
"But you were trapped. Limited. A frog in a well, thinking the circle of sky above was the entire world."
The growling intensified.
"Here's the truth: even if I hadn't shown up, someone would have killed you eventually. A veteran ranger. A knight patrol. A passing adventurer. You were strong, but not strong enough."
The Shadow Devil's red eyes flickered—rage mixing with something else.
Recognition?
"But I'm different." Arden met those eyes without fear. "I don't just want to survive. I want to reach the peak. Fight beings that make you look weak. Face monsters that would terrify even apex predators."
He stepped closer.
"I will become powerful. Not just in this region. Not just in the Empire. Powerful enough to stand against anything this world throws at me. Powerful enough to change fate itself."
The growling had stopped.
The Shadow Devil was listening now.
"So here's my offer: Stop being a frog in a well. Submit to me. Follow me to the peak."
Arden's voice was firm, commanding.
"I'll take you to heights you never imagined. You'll face enemies that would make your former prey look like insects. You'll grow beyond anything your species ever achieved."
He extended his hand.
"Or you can resist. Spend your existence as a trapped core, fighting futilely against Integration until you fade into nothing. Your choice."
The white space was completely silent.
The Shadow Devil stared at him for a long moment.
Then slowly—so slowly—it lowered its blade-arms.
Not submission.
Consideration.
Those red eyes studied him with new intensity.
Weighing. Judging.
Finally, the creature moved.
It reached out with one clawed hand.
And placed it in Arden's extended palm.
The growling returned—but softer now. Not hostile.
Acceptance.
It's choosing to follow.
"Good choice," Arden said quietly. "Now let's see how far we can go together."
The Shadow Devil's form began dissolving into black mist.
But those red eyes remained visible until the very end—burning not with rage now, but with something almost like anticipation.
The white space shattered.
Arden gasped as reality returned.
Power flooded through his body.
His Mana Heart expanded, accommodating the new presence.
Channels opened that hadn't existed before—pathways for shadow-element mana to flow.
And with it came abilities.
Void-Form: Phase between material and immaterial states. Cannot attack while immaterial, but cannot be harmed. .
Shadow Blades: Release and manifest razor-sharp appendages from arms. Variable length up to two meters. Armor-piercing capability.
Shadow Step: Short-range teleportation through shadows. Maximum distance: 10 meters. Requires visible shadow to enter and exit.
Presence Concealment: Suppress mana signature and physical presence. Undetectable to most sensory methods while active.
But there was something else.
Something the core had gained during their battle.
Something it had absorbed from him.
Devil Slayer's Mark: Mana responds to combat poetry. Verses recited during battle temporarily enhance physical and magical capabilities. Power scales with conviction and necessity.
This ability is unique. No other Shadow Devil has ever possessed it.
It exists because I created it.
Arden opened his eyes.
Magda was staring at him.
"Your mana signature just... changed. Completely. It's like you're two different people now."
"Ice and shadow," Arden said. "Valekrest bloodline and Shadow Devil Integration. They're coexisting."
"That's not how it usually works. Integrated cores are supposed to blend with existing mana, not exist separately."
"I'm aware."
He stood carefully.
His injuries still hurt, but the pain was... manageable now.
Like the Shadow Devil's vitality was supplementing his own.
"The Integration was successful," Magda said slowly. "But unusual. I'm flagging this for further observation."
"Do what you need to do."
Arden reached for his shadow.
It responded.
He phased partially into void-form—his hand becoming translucent, insubstantial.
Then solidified again.
Perfect. The ability works.
"Fascinating," Magda muttered. "And terrifying. Do you realize what you've just gained?"
"Assassination capability. Stealth operations. Reconnaissance superiority." Arden met her eyes. "Everything a ranger needs to operate independently."
"You're twelve."
"And I just killed an extinct apex predator with poetry." He smiled slightly. "Age is becoming less relevant."
He was confined to the infirmary for three more days.
During that time, he practiced his new abilities.
Void-form was disorienting at first—the sensation of becoming partially unreal was deeply wrong on an instinctive level.
But he adapted.
Shadow Step took longer to master. The first few attempts left him dizzy and nauseous.
By day three, he could execute it smoothly.
Shadow Blades were the easiest. They manifested naturally, like extensions of his will.
Razor-sharp appendages that could extend from his forearms, maintaining perfect edge retention.
He tested them on practice dummies Magda reluctantly provided.
They cut through wood like paper.
"Those could kill someone easily," she observed.
"That's the point."
"You're terrifying for a child."
"The frontier doesn't reward impracticality."
Visitors came and went.
Voss arrived first, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Show me! Show me the abilities! I need to see how they work!"
"Captain," Riza said wearily, "he's still recovering."
"He's standing! That's recovered enough!"
Arden demonstrated Shadow Step—vanishing from one side of the room and reappearing in the other.
Voss's eyes literally sparkled.
"PERFECT! I create fire walls, you Shadow Step through them! The enemies won't see you coming! It's tactically brilliant AND dramatically stunning!"
"Sir, you're supposed to prioritize tactical effectiveness."
"I AM! The drama is a bonus!"
Markus just shook his head. "Kid, you've created a monster. He's been planning 'combination techniques' for three days straight."
"Combination techniques that will make us LEGENDARY!" Voss insisted. "Fire and shadow! Light and darkness! Poetry and flames!"
"You can't coordinate attacks through poetry, sir."
"Watch me!"
Despite everything, Arden found himself smiling.
He's insane. But his enthusiasm is... infectious.
Group 1-A visited as a collective unit.
Thrain looked at him with something like awe. "You really killed an extinct monster? At twelve?"
"Barely. Nearly died doing it."
"Still counts!" Thrain pumped his fist. "That's so cool!"
Garrett just looked relieved. "Glad you're not dead. Would've been awkward explaining to the instructors."
Rykard studied him with those analytical eyes. "Your mana signature changed. Shadow-element now. First Integration?"
"Yes."
"Interesting choice. Stealth and assassination capabilities fit ranger operations."
He notices everything.
"Strategic selection," Arden agreed.
Serra approached more hesitantly.
"I'm glad you survived." Her voice was quiet. "I was... concerned."
"Thanks."
She handed him a book. "I found this in the library. Historical accounts of Shadow Devil encounters. Thought you might want to understand what you've integrated with."
She did research. For me.
"Thank you, Serra. This is helpful."
She nodded and retreated to her usual position at the edge of the group.
Still keeping distance. But less distance than before.
Progress.
Kari burst in like a hurricane.
"ARDEN! You're awake! I was so worried! I heard you almost died! I brought soup! And bread! And these healing herbs I found in the library! The book said they help with recovery! And—"
"Kari. Breathe."
She sucked in a huge breath, then let it out.
"Sorry. I just... I was really scared. When they brought you back covered in blood, I thought..." Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I thought you weren't going to wake up."
"I'm fine. Mostly recovered."
"You're not fine! You have bandages everywhere! And you fought something extinct! Something that shouldn't exist!"
She set down her basket of supplies. "Why do you keep putting yourself in danger like this?"
Because thousands of people die if I don't. Because I know what's coming. Because this is the only way to survive.
"Because someone has to," he said simply.
Kari looked at him with those dual-colored eyes—so earnest, so worried.
"Then... then I'll work harder. I'll study more. I'll get stronger." Her voice was fierce despite the tears. "So next time, you won't have to face it alone. So I can help protect you too."
She's got it backwards. I'm supposed to protect her.
But I can't say that without explaining too much.
"Just focus on your naval studies. That's where you're needed."
"I can do both! I'll master naval strategy AND get strong enough to stand beside you!"
She grabbed his hand impulsively. "I won't let you face everything alone! You believed in me when nobody else did! Now I'll believe in you!"
She left before he could respond, practically radiating determination.
This is getting complicated.
She's making me into something I'm not. Some kind of hero or savior.
I'm just a forty-year-old veteran trying to prevent disasters in a twelve-year-old's body.
But to her, I'm... something else.
Elara visited last, after everyone else had gone.
She closed the door behind her and just... looked at him.
Her expression was complicated—relief, concern, something deeper.
"You're okay," she said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"Mostly."
"When they brought you back..." She stopped, visibly composing herself. "When Voss carried you through the gates covered in blood, unconscious, I thought..."
She sat on the edge of his bed, hands clenched in her lap.
"I was terrified. That you'd die. That I'd lose you before..." She caught herself. "Before we could do what needs to be done."
There's real emotion there. Genuine fear.
"I survived."
"You nearly didn't." Her voice was firm now. "The Shadow Devil was extinct for a reason. They were apex predators that killed legends. You're twelve years old and you faced one alone."
"Didn't have much choice."
"I know." She reached out, then stopped herself. "I know you do what's necessary. I just... I need you to understand that you can't keep nearly dying. Not because of duty or strategy or the mission."
She met his eyes.
"Because I need you alive. For selfish reasons. Because..." She struggled with the words. "Because there's no one else who can do what you do. No one else I trust to make the right choices when it matters."
Sincere worry. Not interrogation. Just genuine concern from someone who cares.
"I'll try to be more careful."
"You won't. But I appreciate the lie." She smiled slightly. "Just... promise me you'll keep surviving. That you won't give up."
"I promise."
She stood to leave, then paused at the door.
"The combat poetry. That was incredible. Terrifying, but incredible." Her expression was complicated. "You're creating things that shouldn't exist. Pushing boundaries no one else can touch."
"Does that bother you?"
"No." Her smile was genuine now. "It gives me hope. If you can create impossibilities... maybe we can change what seems inevitable."
She left before he could ask what she meant.
No digging into each other's secrets. We agreed on that.
But she cares. Genuinely cares about my survival.
That's... actually kind of nice.
On the sixth day, Magda finally released him.
"You're healed. Somehow. Your recovery rate is abnormal."
"Shadow Devil vitality," Arden said. "The Integration is supplementing my natural healing."
"That's not normal. But then again, nothing about you is normal." She handed him a bottle of medicine. "Take this if the pain returns. And for the love of all gods, stop nearly dying."
"I'll try."
"You won't. But I had to say it anyway."
He left the infirmary and stepped into the afternoon sun.
The academy grounds were busy—students training, instructors drilling, the constant activity of military life.
I've been gone almost a month. Three weeks with the rangers, one week in the infirmary.
Classes have continued without me. Rankings have probably shifted. Things have changed.
Time to see what I've missed.
He headed toward the administrative building to check on his ranger certification status.
A voice called out behind him.
"NUMBER 0001!"
Arden turned.
Instructor Salmosa was approaching, expression stern.
"You're recovered. Good. Report to the main hall immediately. You have visitors."
"Visitors?"
"Northern Command. They want to discuss the Shadow Devil incident and your ranger certification."
Salmosa's expression was unreadable.
"And they want to discuss your... combat poetry. Apparently, that's caused quite a stir among the strategic analysts."
Oh no.
"How much of a stir?"
"Enough that three generals are waiting to talk to you. So I'd suggest you prepare yourself."
Three generals. About combat poetry.
Because I created something that shouldn't exist.
This is either going to be very good or very bad.
Arden followed Salmosa toward the main hall.
His shadow rippled behind him—darker now, more substantial, alive with integrated power.
The Shadow Devil's presence pulsed in his Mana Heart, no longer hostile, but watchful.
And somewhere in his mind, verses of poetry waited to be written.
The world thinks magic has rules. Fixed limitations. Established systems.
But I just proved that wrong.
I created something new. Something impossible.
And if I can do it once...
I can do it again.
He straightened his shoulders and walked into whatever came next.
The poet-warrior. The shadow-walker. The boy who killed devils with words.
Whatever they wanted to call him, he'd answer.
Because he had work to do.
Disasters to prevent. People to save. A world to change.
And now, he had poetry as a weapon.
Let's see how far I can push this.