Into the Dark

"Well… this is going well."

I grimaced as the shadow construct surged toward me, its tendrils of pure darkness writhing like the claws of some ancient beast. My mana was already dangerously low, and the familiar tug of fatigue gnawed at the edges of my mind. Any minute now, I'd be scraping the bottom of the barrel.

The air in the classroom thickened, turning cold and oppressive, like the shadows themselves were alive, hungry for control. This wasn't some neat, little trick of the dark element like the game had made it seem. No, this was something far more dangerous—something ancient, untamed, and just waiting for me to slip up.

I shot a glance at Corvin. He was watching me, of course, with that smug grin plastered across his face, like this was the most entertaining show he'd seen all day. He's loving this. Bet he thinks I'm about to get swallowed whole.

Not today, buddy.

I gritted my teeth and forced my mana to surge again, digging deep into the last of my reserves. I could feel the shadow construct quiver under my control, but it wasn't giving in easily. Sweat trickled down the side of my face, stinging my eyes as I fought to bend the darkness to my will.

"Come on, come on," I muttered, pushing through the strain. The shadow buckled but held its ground, like it had its own twisted will. Stubborn thing.

This was supposed to be easy, right? Level up, get stronger, rinse, repeat. Dark element's supposed to be a cheat code! At least that's how it worked in the game.

But no one told me reality was going to be this messy. The dark element wasn't just some flashy set of spells or a quick power-up. It had weight. Depth. And worst of all, risk. A risk no game patch had ever warned me about.

Finally, the shadow stilled. My grip on it solidified, and I could breathe again. But the burn of my nearly depleted mana was a sharp reminder—I was on the edge.

I let out a sharp exhale, releasing my hold. The shadow construct dissolved into nothing, the room settling back to its previous, oppressive normal. I wasn't dead, but I sure felt like I'd just run a marathon.

"Well, that was fun." I managed to keep my voice steady, though the sweat dripping down my forehead probably gave me away. "Next time, I'll try to almost kill myself a little faster. You know, for efficiency."

Corvin's grin grew wider, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this way too much.

As I caught my breath, something else hit me—something that wasn't just fatigue. I'd played "Arcadia Magician" for hours. I'd read the novels, devoured the lore, and even memorized some of the game mechanics. But none of that had prepared me for what dark magic really was.

The game made it seem so easy. Cast a spell, watch the cool visual effects, gain XP, level up, rinse, repeat. But now… now I was living it. And the dark element wasn't just another stat to boost. It was alive, and it was dangerous.

Even now, after almost draining my mana completely, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd barely scratched the surface of what dark magic really was. This wasn't just about power-ups or progress bars. There was something more to it. Something deep and risky, like playing with a loaded gun while blindfolded.

I thought back to Aldric. He'd made this look so easy. Natural talent, of course. His family, the Umbershades, were practically royalty when it came to dark element magic. And even during the duel a few weeks ago in combat class, he'd shown what he could do. Sure, he lost to Zephyr, but no one could deny the sheer impact of his spellwork.

Was that what it took? Bloodlines? Generations of practice?

Maybe. Or maybe I was just overthinking it. But something about Aldric seemed to click when it came to dark magic, while I was barely hanging on by a thread.

"Well done, Lucius," Corvin said, his voice smooth and calculated, like a chess player moving pieces in a game only he understood. "You've shown remarkable potential with the dark element. Few students can command the shadows so soon."

I raised an eyebrow, still catching my breath. Was this guy serious? I'd almost drained myself dry trying to control that shadow, and he thought that was impressive?

"I appreciate the compliment, but I'm not sure 'remarkable' is the word I'd use," I said, voice laced with sarcasm.

Corvin's grin didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite place. "You misunderstand. The dark element is unlike other forms of magic. It requires more than just mana. It requires a bond, a trust, between the caster and the darkness. You're beginning to understand that, but with the right guidance, you could master it."

There it was. The bait. And Corvin was dangling it in front of me like I was some fish waiting to be hooked.

"You're offering to mentor me?" I asked, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

Corvin nodded. "Indeed. With my help, you could unlock the full potential of the dark element. I could teach you things no other instructor at this academy would dare."

Just then, a memory flickered in my mind—a conversation I'd overheard between some students earlier. They had whispered about Corvin, murmuring words like "Phantom Order" and "dark rituals." I hadn't thought much of it then, but the context now sent a shiver down my spine.

I glanced at the assortment of items on Corvin's desk, my eyes drawn to a small, intricate emblem—an insignia I recognized all too well. The symbol of the Phantom Order, a mark that sent a chill racing through me.

I hesitated. On one hand, this was the perfect opportunity to learn more about Corvin and his plans—especially since I had a growing suspicion that he was connected to the Phantom Order. On the other hand… this was Corvin. The guy practically screamed 'villain.'

But if I could get close, maybe I'd find out more about what he was planning. I just had to play my cards right.

"Alright," I said, forcing a smile. "I'll think about it."

Corvin's grin didn't falter. He knew he had me on the hook. "Take your time, Lucius. But don't take too long. Time, like the darkness, waits for no one."

Later that evening, I found Fiona sitting quietly in the academy courtyard, nose deep in yet another book. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long, wavering shadows across the stone path. Seemed appropriate, given the shadows hanging over our conversation.

I cleared my throat, stepping into the light. "So… you already know that I know about the future, right?"

Fiona looked up, closing her book with a quiet snap. Her expression didn't change much—just that same calculating look she'd had since our first conversation about this. "I figured as much. You used the Regression Stone, didn't you?"

I barely held back a grimace. Right. The Regression Stone—some legendary artifact that supposedly gave someone a second chance by returning them to an earlier point in time. A very convenient cover for why I knew what I knew. Too bad I'd never actually touched the thing.

But she didn't know that. So, I nodded, playing along. "Yeah, that."

Fiona's eyes stayed on me, still scrutinizing. "You killed the Divine Dragon, didn't you? The only way to get that stone is after its death. And now you're here, back in this timeline, trying to live a better life."

"Something like that," I said, trying to keep my tone casual.

She leaned forward, her voice lowering. "So, you already know about the incident Corvin is going to cause at the academy."

I gave a small nod. "Yeah. I've heard about it. And from what I understand, it's not going to be pretty."

Fiona's expression darkened as she looked down at her hands. "I've read about it too. In a history book—back in my time. A thousand years from now, it's still remembered as one of the greatest disasters to ever befall Arcadia."

Her time. That was the part that still threw me for a loop. Fiona wasn't like me—she hadn't stumbled into this timeline unexpectedly. She was from this world's future, sent back by whatever twist of fate. She'd read about the events I only had vague knowledge of in some historical textbook. And here we were, both of us with pieces of the puzzle, but from entirely different perspectives.

"So, the history book in your time… it mentions everything about Corvin?"

Fiona shook her head. "Not everything. It tells of an 'Incident' at the academy, but there's nothing specific about what causes it. Just that Corvin Lintius was involved." She hesitated. "And now, you're telling me that he's part of the Phantom Order?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, that part's new to me too. In all the information I've come across, Corvin was just some maniac with a dark magic obsession. But this—him being tied to the Phantom Order? That wasn't mentioned anywhere."

"That changes everything," Fiona whispered, her brow furrowed in thought. "If he's working with the Phantom Order, then this Incident could be far worse than either of us originally thought."

I crossed my arms, leaning against a nearby tree. "Exactly. That's why I agreed to his offer of mentorship. It gives me a chance to get closer, maybe figure out what he's really planning."

Fiona's gaze narrowed. "You're doing this to change your fate, aren't you? To prevent the disaster you already know is coming?"

I hesitated, knowing her assumption that I was some kind of regressor trying to better my life was based on the truth—just not all of it. "In a way, yeah. I didn't just end up here to live quietly. I have to make choices, try to steer things in a better direction. But Corvin… he's a wildcard. I need to understand him, figure out how to stop what's coming."

"You need to be careful," Fiona said, her voice serious. "If he suspects anything—if he even gets a hint that you're not just some student interested in dark magic—he'll make his move. And we can't afford that."

I nodded, though my mind was racing. This whole situation was spiraling into something bigger than I had anticipated. In everything I had learned, Corvin's role had been relatively straightforward—some dark mage causing trouble before being dealt with by powerful mages. But this… this was something far more complex, something deeper than anyone might have realized.

"I'll tread carefully," I said, more to reassure myself than Fiona. "But we need to figure out what's next. If Corvin is planning something big, we need to be ready."

Fiona closed her eyes for a moment, her expression pained. "I wish I knew more," she admitted. "But the book only had so much. I don't even know the exact day it happens."

"Then we'll have to keep our guard up," I said. "I'll keep digging on my end, and you keep an eye out on yours."

She nodded, the worry still evident in her eyes. "Just… don't let your guard down around him, Lucius. Corvin's not someone to underestimate. I've seen what happens when people do."

I smirked, though I wasn't feeling quite as confident as I sounded. "Don't worry. I'm not planning on letting him get the upper hand."

We shared a moment of silence, the gravity of the situation settling in. The moon hung low in the sky, casting everything in an eerie glow. It was a strange comfort to know that, for all her vast knowledge of this world's future, Fiona was as much in the dark as I was when it came to Corvin's true intentions.

And somewhere in the shadows, Corvin was likely already preparing for his next move.

"I'll keep you posted," I said, pushing off the tree. "And… thanks, Fiona. For trusting me with all this."

"Of course," she replied, her voice soft. "Just remember, Lucius—this isn't going to be easy."

I nodded, that familiar pit of uncertainty forming in my stomach. "Yeah," I muttered under my breath, "I know."

But deep down, I couldn't help but think: Maybe I'm not so sure.

As I made my way back through the courtyard, a chill ran down my spine. The moon hung low, casting shadows that felt unnervingly alive. It was as if the very night itself held its breath, and I couldn't shake the sense that I wasn't alone.

That night, as I walked through the academy halls, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. The shadows seemed to cling to the walls more than usual, and every creak of the floorboards made my pulse race.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Nothing.

But then I felt it—eyes on me. Watching. Waiting.

And I had a pretty good idea who they belonged to.