Training

Vesper's smile deepened, his stance relaxed but poised, like a predator playing with its prey.

"You adapt fast," he mused, tilting his head. "But let's see if you can keep up."

Astra's instincts flared.

Something about Vesper shifted.

His presence sharpened—not like a noble teasing a friend, but like a blade finally being unsheathed.

Astra barely had a moment to process it before Vesper moved.

Fast.

A flicker of motion—a step—a blur of shadow.

Astra raised his sword on instinct—too slow.

Vesper's strike came at an unnatural angle, bending around Astra's guard like a coiling serpent. The moment Astra adjusted, the blade disappeared.

He barely dodged the true attack—a reverse grip slash that skimmed past his ribs.

Astra pivoted, stepping back to reset. Vesper gave him no time.

A rapid barrage of strikes rained down—unpredictable, flowing, ruthless. Shadow Sword. Every motion was a deception, every feint a real threat.

Astra tried to meet speed with speed, flowing with the rhythm instead of fighting it. He twisted, dodged, redirected. His mind burned, his Curse devouring every movement, analyzing every micro-adjustment in Vesper's stance.

But it wasn't enough.

Vesper was still ahead.

Astra barely blocked a downward slash, the impact rattling his arms. Before he could counter, Vesper twisted inside his guard, flipping his blade and driving his hilt straight into Astra's ribs.

Astra staggered.

Another impact—a kick to his knee.

His stance broke—a fatal mistake.

Vesper's sword was at his throat before he could even blink.

Silence.

Astra stood there, panting. His sword still raised—but useless.

Vesper's grin never faded as he stepped back. "Not bad."

Astra exhaled sharply. His body screamed in protest, but his mind? It was clearer than ever.

Because now, he understood.

Every move Vesper made, every adjustment—it was all calculated. His skill wasn't just raw talent—it was honed instinct, refined by years of mastery.

And Astra?

He had just caught the barest glimpse of that level.

Vesper sheathed his sword with a satisfied hum. "You're still rough as hell, but…" He met Astra's gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his sharp grin. "Yeah. You're gonna be terrifying soon."

Astra wiped the sweat from his brow. "…I'll take that as a compliment."

After getting thoroughly humiliated by Vesper, Astra groaned and stretched his sore limbs. "I swear… you get off on beating the hell out of me."

Vesper laughed, clapping a hand on Astra's shoulder. "You're not wrong."

Astra shoved him off with a glare, but Vesper just smirked and led the way toward the showers.

The estate's bathhouse was quiet at this hour—a dark, stone-clad chamber with warm water cascading from carved spouts, steaming against the cool air. They both stepped in, letting the heat melt away the exhaustion from their bodies.

Astra sighed, sinking into the water. "I think my bones are crying."

Vesper scoffed, scrubbing his hair. "Please. If your bones could cry, mine would be writing poetry about suffering."

Astra chuckled. "You're insane."

"You're just figuring that out?" Vesper smirked.

They cleaned up quickly, dressing in fresh training gear before heading to the dining hall.

The dining hall was mostly empty, save for a few servants and late-night warriors grabbing meals. Astra and Vesper piled their plates high—roasted meats, spiced rice, and thick bread slathered in butter.

Astra devoured his food like a man starved, earning a raised eyebrow from Vesper.

"You eat like someone's about to steal it," Vesper remarked.

Astra swallowed a mouthful of rice. "That's because someone usually does."

Vesper gave him an exaggerated side-eye. "You do realize we live in a noble estate, right? No one's snatching food here."

Astra stabbed a piece of meat. "Old habits die hard."

Vesper hummed in amusement but didn't push further. Instead, he picked up a piece of bread, dramatically sniffed it,then nodded. "Ah yes, the scent of privilege."

Astra nearly choked. "Shut up."

Vesper just grinned.

.....

The training hall darkened as Astra and Vesper stood across from each other, not wielding their own shadows, but calling upon the untamed ones around them.

Most mages, even those at Rank Two and some even at rank, struggled to mold raw, wild shadows—the chaotic darkness cast by flickering torches, twisting columns, and distant moonlight. But here they were—two Rank One monsters, shaping them like artists wielding paintbrushes.

The difference between them, however, was stark.

The moment Vesper lifted his hand, the wild shadows leaped toward him eagerly. They twisted and coiled, dancing like lovestruck spirits, flowing into his grasp as though desperate to please him. The darkness adored him—fluttering, shifting, embracing his presence with open arms.

Astra, on the other hand?

His shadows were fearful.

They obeyed, but only out of necessity. They slithered into place as he commanded, forming jagged edges and weak pillars, but there was hesitation—a tremor in the way they moved, as though terrified of disappointing him.

Yet even with such a stark contrast, their battle was nothing short of extraordinary.

"Go."

The instant the word left Astra's lips, his shadows snapped forward, launching jagged fragments like knives, each one flickering in and out of reality, illusions masking the real strikes.

Vesper laughed as his own shadows curved, catching the projectiles midair and dispersing them into dust. The wild darkness wrapped around him protectively, spinning in gentle arcs, as though they were dancing to his heartbeat.

Then, he attacked.

A colossal wave of shadow crashed toward Astra—not brute force, but something fluid, elegant, beautiful. It wasn't a direct strike, but a test—a display of control so smooth it was almost effortless.

Astra gritted his teeth, slamming his palm down. His shadows, even unwilling, obeyed, erecting brittle pillars that buckled under the weight of Vesper's attack. He darted sideways, weaving through flickering illusions as the room warped in layers of shifting darkness.

For an instant, it looked like Astra had disappeared.

But Vesper merely grinned. "Nice trick, but you're still too slow."

His hand flicked. The shadows parted, revealing Astra just as he was about to launch a counterattack. Before he could react, Vesper's shadows curved, forming a crescent blade that sliced through Astra's defenses—just barely missing his face.

Astra twisted away, breathless.

No normal Rank One should be able to do this.

No normal Rank One should be able to free-form shadows in battle, to manipulate illusions, pillars, and shards without spells.

And yet, here they were.

The shadows trembled beneath their feet—weak, fleeting, untamed—but still, they danced to the wills of two monsters in human form.

Astra wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "…Shit."

Vesper rolled his shoulders, his wild shadows humming around him, filled with joy. "Getting tired?"

Astra scoffed. "No. Just realizing how ridiculous this all is."

Vesper smirked. "Welcome to our lives."

After a couple more rounds and damn near falling over due to mana and physical exhaustion, vesper let astra off as he went to hit the showers, the cold water numbing the bruises as he had to wait for his mana to replenish before his body can start to fully heal... 

Astra hit the bed and got his long needed rest.

Astra awoke feeling sore, his body protesting every movement. The past days had been brutal—sparring with Velora, being completely manhandled, then getting destroyed in swordplay by Vesper. Even their shadow magic duels had left him drained. But that was the cost of improvement. Two days. That was all he had left before the tournament.

Normally, he'd have trained with Vesper or Velora, but both were unavailable today.

Vesper had been pulled into diplomatic responsibilities—a duty Astra was grateful to avoid—while Velora had her own business to attend to. That left him alone.

He needed to train. Resting wasn't an option.

After dragging himself through another damn cold shower to wake up, Astra dressed and made his way to the only option left—the main training hall.

Unlike the private training rooms that House Shadow had generously provided to him and the other scions, these were for the general population—the ordinary Rank Ones who had yet to rise above the pack.

When he arrived, the sheer energy of the place hit him immediately.

The clang of steel rang loud, a constant symphony of weapons clashing. Mana swirled in the air, humming with life.Rank Ones were spread out across the room, engaged in sparring, pushing their limits.

Some fought with swords, spears, or hammers. Others wielded elemental magic—fire against water, wind slicing through earth. Even shadow magic flickered like restless phantoms, weaving in and out of combat.

Scattered throughout were several Rank Two instructors, their sharp gazes watching over the trainees. They corrected stances, intercepted poorly aimed spells, and barked out occasional orders.

Astra stopped at the entrance, feeling an uncomfortable twist in his gut. Not from fear. Not from hesitation.

But from the unavoidable fact that the moment he stepped in—everyone would stare.

The damn mana network had made sure of that.

Someone—some absolute bastard—had found his old wanted poster from the slums of Duskfall and spread it everywhere.

It was meant as an insult. A stain on his reputation.

Instead, it had backfired spectacularly.

Now, people didn't know what to think of him.

Some looked at him with fear, as if expecting him to pull a dagger from his sleeve at any moment. Others with resentment, seeing him as a street rat who had somehow clawed his way into nobility.

And then there were the women.

They were in the most confusing state of all—torn between attraction and disgust.

"He's definitely a criminal.""Yeah, but like… a handsome one.""Ugh, he's probably a player."

"probably? he was naked with a damn old hag!""I don't even know if I like him or hate him."

Vesper, upon discovering this, had cried laughing for a full ten minutes.

"You're a real menace, Astra. A damn criminal princess! I love it."

Astra had considered kicking him.

Now, however, he was alone. No Vesper. No Velora. Just him and a room full of curious, wary, and eager Rank Ones.

He exhaled slowly. Screw it.

Stepping forward, Astra entered the training grounds.

As Astra stepped forward, the shadows around the massive hall shifted.

Everyone noticed it.

The Shadows that had once been restless and free, flickering with the chaotic movement of dozens of fighters, suddenly grew stiff.

Fearful.

Obedient.

The long, stretching shadows that belonged to the towering stone pillars stilled, standing at rigid attention. The flickering silhouettes cast by flames no longer danced but instead curled away from Astra's presence, shrinking as if terrified.

A suffocating silence rippled through the room.

All eyes turned to him.

Not because of the rumors. Not because of his reputation.

But because the very shadows of the hall had bowed before him.

Astra felt a cold chill crawl up his spine as the weight of every gaze pressed down on him.

His mind spiraled.

"Shit… They all hate me, don't they?"

"They think I don't belong here—I don't look bad do I??"

"They're judging me. I stand out too much. Dammit, why did I even come here?"

His steps were even, calculated, but inside, his thoughts raced.

The rank twos, the instructors—even they were staring. He could see the flicker of recognition in some of their eyes. His face wasn't exactly a secret anymore, not with the rumors and that damn old wanted poster floating around on the mana network.

"Just keep walking. Act normal."

The moment stretched, heavy and suffocating, before—

"GET BACK TO TRAINING!"

One of the instructors' voices snapped through the tense air like a whip their aura flaring as they room shook.

The spell was broken.

People jolted, their attention snapping away, and suddenly the room was alive again—clashing steel, crackling mana, the low hum of spells weaving through the air.

Astra exhaled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly as he finally reached an open training area.

"Gods… That was awful."

At the far end of the hall, where the clangor of steel was at its most disciplined, stood the head instructor. An ancient man, his presence alone seemed to command the entire room. His long white hair flowed past his shoulders, his blind eyes staring into nothing yet somehow seeing everything. Scars littered his face, his arms, his neck—evidence of countless battles. Unlike the other instructors who wore combat gear, he was draped in a regal black robe, lined with faint silver embroidery, marking his status.

Astra approached, feeling small despite himself. This man was a Rank Three, a level of strength Astra couldn't even begin to grasp yet.

The air felt heavier the closer he got. Conversations hushed. Even the mana in the air felt like it bent subtly around the old man, as if in deference.

"Rank three...a Knight"

Finally, Astra stood before him and bowed slightly out of respect. "Instructor," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I need a training partner."

The old man said nothing at first. His blind eyes locked onto Astra as if peering directly into his soul. The silence stretched, pressing down like a physical weight.

Then, in a voice that was rough, deep, yet measured, the instructor finally spoke:

"You seek battle."

It wasn't a question.

Astra nodded. "Yes."

The old man exhaled slowly. "You are the one who conquered his shadow, aren't you?"

Astra tensed but nodded again.

The instructor tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, in a single motion, he lifted his scarred hand and gestured to the hall.

"Then let us see if you are worthy of one."

With that, he turned to the gathered students. "Who among you will test this one?"

The training hall stilled for a heartbeat—then the whispers started.

Five hands shot up.

Astra glanced at them, his stomach sinking slightly. They were the strongest in the room,. These were solid, medium-tier Rank Ones—stronger than the average, experienced, and clearly confident enough to take on an unknown factor like him.

The first was, a broad-shouldered, burly man wielding a massive war hammer. His earth mana was already causing the floor beneath him to vibrate faintly. His face was square, his nose looked like it had been broken more than once, and his arms were thick as tree trunks. His stance was solid and unshakable.

Next was, a lean, wiry man with sharp gray eyes and a morning star resting on his shoulder. His smirk was condescending, his stance casual yet balanced. He used wind mana, and Astra could already tell that if he let him build momentum, that damn spiked ball was going to be a nightmare.

Then came the sword users, who stood side by side. one was taller, muscular, with jet-black hair and fire mana that flickered around his fingertips as he gripped his blade. the other was shorter, broader, with light brown hair and water mana, his stance precise and measured. One was aggressive, the other controlled.

Finally, there was the only woman among them, wielding a long spear. She was average in height but fast, her blonde hair tied back tightly, her blue eyes sharp as ice. She was a user of light mana, her spear glowing faintly in her hands. A defender and attacker in one, Astra realized.

The instructor let a small smile curve his lips. "Very well…"

He turned his blind gaze toward the five volunteers.

"All of you."

A beat of stunned silence. Then the room erupted in whispers.

Astra blinked. "Wait. What?"

One of the students, the swordsman, hesitated before speaking up, looking between the instructor and Astra. "Uh… no offense, sir, but… five against one? Isn't that… overkill?"

The old man's smile widened ever so slightly.

"Then overkill."

The room stilled.

Astra exhaled slowly, looking at his five soon-to-be opponents. His mind screamed at him to turn back, but at the same time…

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. "You know what?" he muttered to himself. "I already get my ass beat every day."

Then, raising his head, he grinned.

"Let's do it.

the whole training whole seemed to stop and watch as these six squared off, hundreds of rank ones all stood as they watched from afar, even the instructors halted their lessons

As Astra stepped forward onto the training mat, his five opponents spread out in a rough formation. The tension in the room thickened, the crowd watching with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Then, all at once, his opponents shouted their names like a damn war cry.

"GAREK!" The hammer-wielding dwarf slammed his foot down, the ground trembling slightly beneath his sheer weight and earth mana as his aura soared. His grin was wide and cocky, his scarred arms flexing as he hefted his weapon. his leather armor was light showing he favored movement even with his large frame.

"Lance" The wiry man with the morning star spun his weapon once, the spiked ball whistling through the air as he smirked. His wind mana caused his hair to ruffle slightly, like a predator ready to pounce. he wore shiny silver armor that covered his whole body.

"Ronan" The fire-wielding swordsman flicked his blade upward, embers dancing along its edge. His eyes burned with intensity, his stance aggressive, ready to go on the attack at any moment. he had light armor with chainmail in most areas but a strong plate and gloves as well as boots on

"Edwin" The water-affinity swordsman followed suit, his blade steady in his hands. Unlike Ronan, his stance was calm and measured, his expression serious, like he was already analyzing Astra's every movement. he had grey old armor all over.

"Sybil" The spearfighter's voice rang the sharpest, her grip tight on her glowing spear. The tip flashed with light mana, her presence like a beacon of focus among the chaos.she wore shiny armor as well.

Astra just… blinked.

"…Was that necessary?"

They all took their stances.

Garek cracked his knuckles. "Yes."

Lance grinned. "Why of course my lord, lets give them a show..."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Are we fighting or talking?"

Astra exhaled slowly, steadying himself as his fingers flexed, his body thrumming with anticipation. His heart pounded like a war drum, mana stirring beneath his skin, instincts screaming—ready.

With a mere thought, his Night Shroud unfurled. A cascade of lusterless black steel enveloped him, each plate settling into place like the embrace of a familiar darkness. Then came the sword—his longsword, forged by the Angel of Steel.Its dark edge gleamed with an eerie luster, a weapon that had tasted both heaven and hell.

He stood like a harbinger of the abyss, a shadow-clad knight poised for battle.

Then, the shadows answered.

They writhed and danced at his command, slithering like living things, their servitude for him absolute—obedient, reverent, fearful. His presence alone sent a ripple through the training hall, his aura swelling, pressing down like an unspoken threat.

The five opponents visibly tensed.

And yet, Astra hadn't even gone all out.

Then the old instructor's mana infused voice, calm yet merciless, cut through the silence like a blade.

"Begin."

The instant the word "Begin" left the old instructor's lips, Astra moved.

He felt the air shift—a spear lunging toward him like a striking viper, a morning star whistling through the air, swords flashing, and the hammer raised to crash down like a falling meteor. His mind fractured into calculation, instinct and his curse of curiosity working in tandem to devour information at a monstrous pace.

The spear-wielder, sybil, was quick, her thrust precise—but predictable. Astra's body twisted like flowing ink, his Shadow Sword style unraveling into its fluid, deceptive dance. His shadow coiled beneath her, snapping against the floor to propel him sideways, the spearhead barely grazing his shoulder.

Then came the hammer.

Astra saw it out of the corner of his eye—the downward arc was too fast. A normal fighter wouldn't have had time to react. But Astra wasn't normal.

His shadows surged, forming a lattice beneath his feet as he pushed off mid-motion, his entire body flipping backward. The hammer struck empty ground, sending a shockwave of force rippling outward.

The two swordsmen lunged next, One feinted low, the other swept high.

Astra's mind broke it down mid-movement he saw their threads of focus, and their technique. Too linear. Too slow. Too obvious.

His longsword clashed against Edwin's, the steel screaming as he redirected the blade with the barest flick of his wrist. At the same time, his free hand snapped up—a water barrier erupted as a fireball roared toward him.

The audience gasped—a Shadow mage casually weaving powerful water magic?

The moment the fireball hissed into steam, Astra retaliated. His shadow leapt from the floor, taking the shape of jagged spikes, aiming for the fire mage. The mage barely dodged, but that moment of hesitation was all Astra needed.

His feet barely touched the ground as he moved—ducking, weaving, his sword a blur of black steel and trickery.

Sybil lunged again, but Astra was ready this time. Instead of dodging, he redirected. He let the spear skim past his ribs, twisting his body so that his own shadow coiled around it—a snare of living darkness locking Sybil in place.

The morning star came next.

Astra's free hand snapped open—a pulse of light magic flared, blinding the wielder. The chain faltered for just a moment, but that was enough. Astra stepped inside the weapon's range, his sword slamming against the wielder's ribs with blunt force.

The sheer efficiency of it—the way he wielded three affinities simultaneously—sent murmurs through the watching crowd. Even the instructors had gone silent, eyes narrowed as they assessed the sheer monstrosity of talent before them.

And Astra was still adapting.

His curse burned in his mind, absorbing every movement, every mistake, every angle of attack. His footwork refined mid-battle, his strikes became smoother, his counters faster.

Sybil, Edwin, Garek Lance, and Ronan— all five were now struggling to hold their ground.

Against a single man.

Edwin's eyes narrowed, his teeth grinding in frustration. "What the hell—he's not just holding his own… he's growing stronger as we fight!"

Ronan, blood dripping from a split lip, his eyes wild with a mix of shock and seething anger, spat onto the ground. "No... it's more than that. He's dissecting us. Watching, waiting. Learning."

Sybil's fingers tightened around her spear until her knuckles turned white. Her voice trembled with barely contained fury. "Then we end it now. No more games."

The five of them regrouped, their weapons rising in synchronized harmony, mana surging from them like a torrent of raw, untapped power. Their auras roared to life, a blinding light flaring from them as they pushed their limits, forcing every ounce of energy into their final strike. The pressure of their collective might pressed in on the very air around them, heavy and suffocating, as though the world itself held its breath in anticipation. like a large stream on the side of a mountain.

But Astra's reaction was a contrast of absolute calm.

A slow, confident smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with the unshakable certainty of someone who had already won.

The shadows around him responded—not just stirred, but answered—as if they were an extension of his very being, his will flowing through them like a living force. The air thickened, suffused with the dark power swirling around his figure, until the shadows cast long, thick tendrils in every direction, lashing out in eager anticipation.

But it wasn't just the shadows that bowed to him.

The light magic flared, weaving through his eyes, reflecting in the shimmer of his blade, and glowing with an intensity that could only be described as divine. It was a light not of purity, but of an unstoppable, searing force—something that could cleanse and burn all at once.

Astra wasn't simply wielding three affinities. He wasn't just summoning shadows or manipulating light—he was becoming them.

His presence surged outward, and for the first time, the five of his opponents felt the true weight of his power. It was not just his mana that filled the space, but his essence itself—unshakable, undeniable. Every shadow obeyed him, and in that moment, the five realized that they had been fighting a monster—not a man. it was as if his presence was that of a mighty river.

Astra's voice—loud and commanding—pierced the air, charged with the raw force of his being. His very words carried the weight of a master, a ruler. He wasn't just announcing his name. He was declaring his dominion over this battlefield, his power undeniable.

Everyone in the hall felt it, this man...was nearing the top of rank one, his talent potential and abilities, he was a monster.

"Give the crowd a show huh...well"he chuckled "I am Astra nice to meet you five"

Astra smiled," Now....Show me something new"