The City of Eldritch Lights was a nightmare given form, a twisted carnival under a sky forever cloaked in shadow. Lanterns of unnatural hues—violent violets, festering greens, dark as coagulated blood—swung from ropes and towers, illuminating cracked archways and buildings that seemed to breathe. A sea of faces loomed around Jin, pale and expectant, their anticipation thick in the air, pressing against his mind as he peered through the curtain slit. They watched him from within the fog, ghostly eyes reflecting the shifting lights as if the very souls of the crowd hungered for his performance.

Backstage, the scents and sounds of the circus enveloped him. The excited hum of voices mingled with incense as he peered into the crowd. His senior brother and sisters moved in mesmerising synchronicity on stage, swallowing blades, conjuring illusions, and calling forth tamed creatures that leapt through rings of fire. Jin observed, captivated as always, their mastery stirring equal parts admiration and trepidation within him.

The performers passed by him, clapping his shoulder in encouragement. Younger disciples offered him looks of pity...and expectation.

A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Scared?”

Jin turned to see May beside him, her coiling hair framing gentle, green eyes that seemed to glow softly, even in the dim light. She had a calm, grounded presence, someone who’d been through storms and anchored others through them, too. Once a trapeze performer, she brought a steady warmth that few in the sect dared show him. Like all the others in the city, she was marked. Her skin was both a dark shade of brown, but had patches of white all over her face, neck, and shoulders. It did nothing to dim her beauty.

He forced a smirk. “Me? Nah. Why would I be?”

May’s lips curved in a small, knowing smile. “You’re always like that. Acting unbothered. Makes me a bit envious.” Her voice softened with a hint of curiosity. “How do you manage it?”

He shrugged, keeping his tone light. “Easy—just tell yourself none of it’s real. Works like a charm.”

She shook her head, an affectionate exasperation in her look. “It’s not a trick, Jin. Just… be careful up there. Remember, no matter what they throw at you, you’re more than just a performance.”

He nodded, but caught a hint of hesitation in her stance, as if there was more on her mind.

“Something else, May?”

She sighed, glancing down before meeting his gaze. “There’s talk of a young master in the stands tonight.”

“A young master?” Jin's attention snapped away from the stage preparations, his frown deepening. “Great. Lucky me.”

“Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. With him watching, you’d be building a future few could match. That is… if everything goes well.”

“Yeah, if I don’t Fracture.” He gave her a level look. “Who is he, anyway?”

She hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of her cloak. “Not from a sect—a family. Rodger.”

His stomach dropped. “You mean that Rodger? The ones who supposedly hunted a Leviathan during the Night Tide?”

She shrugged. “Just a rumour.”

“Rumours are usually true enough,” he muttered.

“Scared?” she asked, her tone softer, more genuine this time.

He chuckled. “Nah. Not at all.”

“Tonight, behold the raw spectacle of the Bizarre Carnival Sect in all its glory!” The Ring Master’s voice cut through the murmurs with twisted enthusiasm, his scarlet long coat sweeping behind him, a pitch-black top hat shadowing his grin. “You will witness, with your own eyes, a junior disciple step onto the path of true cultivation…” His voice dropped lower, dripping with a kind of lunacy. “...Or, perhaps, you’ll be fortunate enough to witness the Fracture!”

The crowd’s roar intensified, excitement filling the air like a living, pulsing thing. Jin felt it reverberate in his chest, each beat a reminder of what lay ahead. They want to see me die, he thought, a flash of morbid humour slicing through his tension.

“Good luck out there, Jin,” May said softly beside him, her voice laced with a rare, quiet concern.

Jin looked at her, trying to memorise the kindness in her face, wondering if it would be the last time he’d see it. “Thanks, May,” he replied, barely above a whisper. But as he turned, he met the eyes of the Ring Master—his own master—and knew with a chilling certainty that tonight’s “show” would push him far past what he’d ever experienced. A grin, wide and bright, spread across his face as he tossed the heavy curtain aside, stepping into the glaring lights.

The crowd erupted in applause, a tidal wave of energy surging from every cheer and clap as Jin strode into the centre of the ring. He raised his arms high, igniting his presence with a fierce gleam in his eyes, soaking in the crowd’s fervour as it tumbled towards his core, hungry for his every move. His breathing steadied as he took in the rush—a sweet, heady feeling, pure nourishment.

Stolen novel; please report.

With a thought, he summoned his first illusion: a nimble figure in a jester’s garb, dancing through the air. Another appeared beside it, juggling a ball, each motion smooth yet hauntingly colourless. Jin hadn’t reached the level to grant them vibrance yet; he was only in the first tier. The jesters spun, and then, slowly, their bodies distorted, twisting into monstrous shapes—tentacles unfurled from their sleeves, and their mouths widened to reveal endless rows of sharpened teeth.

Jin moved alongside them, his own body bending unnaturally, and gasps rippled through the crowd, wide eyes reflecting the battlefield Jin conjured. He drew on the memories lurking in the minds of the audience, pulling fragments of their darkest fears, weaving their nightmares into life. The spectres clashed, ghostly battles playing out around him. Terror flashed in their faces—yet, slowly, fear transformed into thrill, into awe. The crowd’s nightmares collided, struggled, and one by one, Jin destroyed them, releasing a wave of emotion that thundered toward him, an offering he absorbed hungrily.

A stabbing pain flared in his core as it stretched and contracted, the evolution process sparking within him. His core tightened, stretching to harbour the raw emotions of everyone beneath the circus tent. But this was only the beginning.

Jin’s gaze found the young master in the stands, an unmistakable presence: clad in a fur-lined Taoist robe with a glinting armoured chest plate, sneering back at him. Unlike the others, his emotions were guarded, his expression unreadable, a looming fortress in a sea of commoners. Jin’s smirk faltered, but he reached out, calling on the forbidden power of the Shadowed Carnival sect to draw from the young master’s core. It crashed into him, a monstrous wave that jolted his psyche. Blood trickled from his nose. Jin’s shadow twitched and writhed, an ominous reflection flickering to life.

“He’s going to Fracture!” someone from the crowd shouted eagerly, leaning forward, eyes alight.

Biting his tongue, Jin focused. The shadows coiled around him, spiralling like writhing smoke, and he released the illusions he’d woven before, calling on the pure emotion that surged from the audience. Their awe, fear, and excitement cascaded over him, the young master’s feelings settling last, sticky as tar. Jin felt his desperation, his deeply rooted fears—the looming shadow of his brothers, the ever-gnawing sense of inadequacy—all pouring into Jin’s soul like a poison. But he held onto it, let it sink in.

His shadow began to take shape, a pulsing reflection clawing against him, demanding to be freed. He fought it, pouring every ounce of his will into restraining the creature. But its strength was immense, twisting free, and for a moment, Jin stared in horror as his own shadow—a hulking, distorted monster—turned toward the crowd with a contemptuous sneer.

Jin recalled his master’s words, his voice steady despite the searing pain. “A Reflection of one’s soul is to be commanded and controlled. I am the master here, not you!” He gritted his teeth, pulling from the audience's awe, their fear, their wild excitement. It was a torrent that threatened to crush him, a weight that pushed him to his limits. And as the emotions crescendoed, his world fractured, his vision bleaching into a stark, blinding white.

In the silence, he saw it—a version of himself, grinning with eyes stretched wide and a mouth too full of teeth. From his back sprouted scarlet, bony appendages writhing with life. A jagged crown of bone sat atop his head, crowned by a single golden eye blazing like a jewel.

“You have succeeded,” it rasped, voice fractured and hollow, like a forgotten echo. “You have awakened your Reflection. Rejoice. Tier Two: The Marionette’s Whisper.”

The vision shattered as a jolt of force pulled Jin back to reality. Silence draped over the tent as the crowd collectively held its breath. Jin looked down, noting with satisfaction that his shadow was different now—larger, thicker, and stretching beyond him. He felt the raw power pulsing within, his body a vessel brimming with strength. Flexing his hands, he felt bones creak with newfound energy, and, with a triumphant grin, he punched the air. The crowd roared in response.

He bowed, one hand to his chest and the other raised. Then, his gaze caught the young master, watching him with a coolly appraising look as he clapped. Jin’s heart swelled with exhilaration, but as his eyes shifted, he saw his master.

There, in his master’s deep green gaze, he found a flicker of disappointment. It was gone in a breath, fading like an illusion.

As the crowd's cheers swelled, drowning out the world around him, Jin felt the electric thrill of victory coursing through his veins. But beneath that euphoria, an insidious doubt crept in—was he truly in control? The shadows continued to swirl, tugging at him, eager for freedom. He fought against the weight of their collective emotions, his heart racing with adrenaline and fear.

Suddenly, a tremor shot through him, a crack in his concentration that sent a shockwave through his core. The hulking figure of his Reflection loomed larger, a grotesque echo of his darkest self, and for a brief moment, Jin faltered, his control wavering.

“No!” he shouted, voice trembling with defiance as he struggled to rein in the chaos. “I am the master!” But the shadows thrashed violently, pulling him into their depths. Panic clawed at him as he felt the connection with the audience shatter, their energy slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Jin gasped, feeling the world spin as reality warped around him. The crowd’s cheers faded into a muffled roar, replaced by an eerie silence. The very fabric of the circus tent began to dissolve, colours bleeding into one another until nothing remained but a blinding light.

“Wake up! Wake up!” he screamed into the void, a primal instinct urging him to escape, to break free from the grasp of the shadows.

In an explosive rush, everything imploded, the sensation of falling enveloping him. Darkness swallowed him whole, a suffocating void where time lost all meaning. Jin clenched his eyes shut, bracing for impact as he felt the ground give way beneath him.

With a jolt, he awoke in a stark white room, heart pounding in his chest. Confusion enveloped him like a heavy fog. The sterile smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and the steady beeping of machines filled the air. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, reality clawing its way back into focus.

Jin's body felt heavy, unyielding. His arms were strapped down to the bed, panic surging within him as he pulled against the restraints. A wheelchair sat ominously beside him, wheels glinting under the bright lights. The starkness of the hospital contrasted sharply with the vibrant chaos of the carnival he had just left behind.

Jin concentrated on his breathing, willing his legs to move, but as always, they remained unresponsive. He managed a smile, but it was a pale imitation of the one he wore in the other world—meek, weak, and pitiful. His head drooped, a sense of defeat washing over him just as the nurse rushed into the room.

Her face mirrored May’s.