Progress

The past few weeks had flown by in a blur.

Daron lunged forward, his fist slicing through the air toward Scarlett's face. She shifted slightly, his knuckles grazing her cheek as she deflected the blow with a fluid sweep of her forearm. Undeterred, Daron spun into a roundhouse kick, his leg scything toward Scarlett's ribs with surprising speed. However, Scarlett was quicker. Her hand shot out, grabbing his ankle with a firm grasp.

"Better, but you're telegraphing your moves again."

She released his foot and Daron stumbled back, regaining his balance. He exhaled sharply, blowing a stray lock of black hair from his eyes.

Telegraphing, huh?

He'd show her telegraphing.

Daron charged again, unleashing a combo of jabs and crosses. His knuckles brushed Scarlett's jaw once, twice, before she slipped away, moving like water around a stone. Her eyes flashed as she danced backward.

"Good. Faster. Don't focus so much on power. Let the strikes flow."

Daron adjusted his stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He could feel the burning in his limbs, the sweat trickling down his temples. But beneath the fatigue, there was something else - a sense of control, of deadly precision that hadn't been there before.

He charged forward, his attacks blurring into a symphony of motion. Jab, hook, uppercut. Each punch flowed seamlessly into the next, guided by instinct as much as intent.

For a heartbeat, Daron thought he had her. Then Scarlett moved.

It was like watching a cobra strike. One moment she was in front of him, the next she was behind, her arm locked around his throat in a chokehold. Daron froze, acutely aware of her breath on his ear.

"Good." Scarlett's voice was a silken purr. "You're learning." She released him and stepped back, a feline smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But I still have room for improvement. Again."

Daron rolled his shoulders, a grin tugging at his lips despite the ache in his muscles. His green eyes met Scarlett's, alight with a newfound hunger.

***

A booming laugh echoed through the training room. "Mind if I join in?"

Daron turned to see Ali striding towards them, his massive frame dwarfing everything in sight. Despite his intimidating stature, his dark eyes twinkled with warmth.

"Ready for a real challenge, boy?" Ali grinned, cracking his knuckles.

Daron smirked. "Bring it on, big guy."

They squared off, Daron's wiry frame seeming almost comically small next to Ali's bulk. Ali threw a playful jab, slow enough for Daron to dodge.

"That's all you got?" Daron taunted, dancing around him.

Ali grinned. "Oh, I'm just getting warmed up."

They traded blows, Ali absorbing Daron's punches like a living fortress. Each impact sent shockwaves up Daron's arms, but Ali just grinned, urging him on.

"Come on, put your back into it! I can barely feel those love taps."

Daron gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of strength into his attacks. Sweat poured down his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But no matter how hard he hit, Ali just laughed, his body as unyielding as a mountain.

***

"Truggh's turn!" A loud voice cut through the air. Scarlett took a step back.

A blue blur barreled into the room, nearly bowling Daron over. Truggh bounced on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Truggh wants to play too!"

Before Daron could respond, Truggh pounced. She moved with a speed that belied her size, her limbs a whirlwind of motion. Daron barely managed to block her first strike, the impact rattling his teeth.

He counterattacked, but Truggh took his blow, giggling like it was all a game.

"Can't move Truggh!" She snickered, sticking out her tongue.

Daron lunged, but she blocked again, her bulky frame and soft fur dampening his blows. It felt like punching a pillow filled with stones.

"Ooh, Truggh likes this game!"

She closed the distance between them surprisingly fast, then delivered a punch that sent Daron stumbling backward. Before he could recover, she pounced, her weight bearing him to the ground.

"Truggh wins!" She boasted, sitting on his chest.

Exhausted, battered, yet strangely content, Daron let his head fall back against the mat.

***

The crackling of the fireplace filled the lard and cozy room, casting dancing shadows across Daron's face as he hunched over a pile of dusty tomes. His eyes darted across the yellowed pages, absorbing every scrap of magical knowledge like a man dying of thirst.

A furrow appeared between his brows. He scribbled a note, the scratching of his pen breaking the night's silence. The glass dome above revealed a star-strewn sky, but Daron paid it no heed, lost in the mysteries of mana manipulation.

Hours ticked by, marked only by the rustling of pages and the occasional crackle of a log splitting in the hearth. Daron's eyelids grew heavy, but he fought against the pull of sleep, determined to unravel the secrets that danced just beyond his grasp.

Finally, exhaustion won out. His head nodded, the pen slipping from his fingers as he slumped back in his chair. The room faded, replaced by the familiar black void.

"Back again, I see." Morveth's voice greeted him

Daron turned, unsurprised to find the God of Death before him, his ash-white skin a stark contrast to the endless black.

"I think I get it now," Daron said, his voice steady despite the otherworldly setting.

Morveth's lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his fathomless eyes. "Ah, the impatience of youth. You think it's as simple as reading a few dusty books?"

Daron opened his mouth, but held his tongue. Antagonizing the god seemed unwise.

"It's been more than just 'a few' books, just wait and see."

He settled onto the dark surface beneath him, crossing his legs and shutting his eyes. He focused on the sensation he experienced back in the cell when his nexus first blossomed.

A rush of icy energy surged through him, starting at chest and racing up his arm to his fingertips and back. It felt as if he had dived into a frozen lake, the cold penetrating right to his bones, coursing through his body like a frigid blaze.

But beneath the cold, there was something else—a sense of a powerful, untapped potential.

He was circulating mana.

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, equal parts disbelief and elation. He'd done it. After weeks of study and frustration, he'd finally taken the first step towards mastering his abilities.

"Impressive, you really did it." The god said with a smile. "And from what I can sense, your mana signature confirms my suspicions. You seem to be a Shadowmancer."

A Shadowmancer.

During his studies, Daron had encountered mentions of sorcerers who could control darkness. He remembered how the shadows changed after the bloom; they seemed deeper and moved as though they were alive.

Morveth seemed to sense his thoughts. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Shaping shadows is no simple feat. You'll need to start small, manipulating existing darkness before you can even dream of creating your own."

Daron glanced around the dark expanse, struggling to tell where shadows ended and where they began.

"What should I do next?" he asked.

"Your next task is to shape a shadow into a basic form. I personally like creating tendrils, but you can start with something simple, like a blob," replied the God of Death.

Daron frowned. "Are there shadows here for me to practice with?"

The God of Death chuckled. "None here will yield to your control. You'll have to continue your training in the waking world. Let's stop for now; you've made good progress. I have something to work on, so you have the rest of the night off. Enjoy."

With a final wave of his hand, the god sent a force against Daron's chest, as if ejecting him from his own mind.

***

Daron's eyes snapped open, the last traces of his sleepiness dissipating like smoke in the air. He sat upright in his comfortable armchair, realizing he had dozed off while studying. As he raked his fingers through his messy hair, a surge of fresh energy coursed through him. The exhaustion from the past weeks seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a vigor he hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Well, look who's finally awake."

Daron froze, his head whipping towards the familiar voice. There, leaning casually against the MagiTech table in the middle of the room, stood Morveth. The god's eyes glinted with amusement, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What on earth?" Daron mumbled, blinking quickly. "Am I still dreaming?"

Morveth laughed softly. "No, you're not. Can't I visit you in the real world?"

Daron's thoughts raced, attempting to grasp the significance of Morveth's presence.

"How is this possible? I thought you could only exist in the void."

The god shrugged. "Your powers have increased, and so has our bond. I can now appear outside your mind, but only you can perceive me."

Great, an invisible, omnipresent companion. That's what I need right now.

"I can hear your thoughts, you know?" Morveth said with a flat tone.

Daron stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "So, what now? Are you just going to follow me around, offering cryptic advice and snarky comments?"

Morveth smirked. "Something like that. Think of me as your personal guide to the shadows, here to ensure you don't stumble too badly on your path to power."

Daron snorted, shaking his head. "Lucky me. The God of Death as my own personal tutor. I'm sure this won't be awkward at all."

He moved towards the large door, his mind already shifting to the day ahead. Training with Scarlett, studying magic - there was so much to do, so much to learn.

And now, it seemed, he had a constant companion to share the journey with, for better or worse.

Well, at least things won't be boring.

"I agree," Morveth said, following him.

With the god's spectral presence in tow, Daron walked into the hallway, only to be met by a familiar yet unforeseen face.