Chapter 3: The Shadow That Shouldn’t Exist
A chill ran down Kairan's spine.
He didn't move. Couldn't move.
The Hollow stood at the far end of the corridor, half-hidden in the flickering light. Its body shifted unnaturally, like smoke trapped in a glass container, twisting and rippling in ways that made no sense.
But its eyes—those empty, glowing eyes—were locked onto him.
He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, feel the cold sweat clinging to his skin. His breath came in slow, shaky exhales. He had seen pictures of Hollows before. In books. On reports. Through broadcasted footage of past battles.
But never in real life.
And never here.
No Hollow had ever set foot inside Celestia Academy. The security system was too advanced. The barriers too strong. The entire foundation of this place was built to be a sanctuary for Resonants—a place where monsters weren't supposed to exist.
Yet here it was.
And it was looking at him.
His hand clenched around nothing. A weapon—he needed a weapon. No, what the hell was he thinking? He wasn't a fighter. He didn't have a Gift. Even if he had a blade in his hands, what difference would it make?
He took a step back. The Hollow tilted its head, its form distorting for a brief moment, like reality itself was bending around it.
His stomach twisted.
"Where should I go?" The whisper left his lips before he could even think. He couldn't fight it, so he had to run. But run where? The security system should have already detected this thing, yet there were no alarms, no flashing emergency lights, no rushing footsteps of Resonant guards coming to deal with the intruder.
Why was it so quiet?
His breath hitched.
"Why is that thing here?"
The Hollow didn't answer, but for a split second, he swore its form flickered—like it was acknowledging his words.
Then it lunged.
He barely had time to react before his legs moved on their own. His body twisted to the side as he threw himself down the hallway, sprinting before he even realized what he was doing. His pulse hammered in his ears.
Move. Move. Move.
He wasn't the fastest. He wasn't the strongest. But right now, fear made him faster than he had ever been.
Behind him, the Hollow didn't make a sound. No growls, no screeches—just the weight of its presence pressing against his back like a storm chasing its prey.
His mind raced. He needed to find someone. Anyone. But the hallways were empty, the entire academy wrapped in a silence that felt unnatural. The usual hum of energy barriers, the distant sounds of late-night training sessions, even the security drones that patrolled the halls—all of it was gone.
It was just him and the Hollow.
His foot slipped. The floor was too polished, too smooth, and he barely caught himself before crashing into a set of double doors. Without thinking, he shoved them open and stumbled inside.
The moment he turned, he saw it.
The Hollow glided through the entrance with an eerie calmness, its movements slow, deliberate, like a predator that knew its prey had nowhere left to run.
Kairan's chest rose and fell in rapid bursts. His legs burned. His throat felt dry.
Nowhere to run.
He glanced around the room. A lecture hall. Rows of empty seats stacked in a semi-circle, dim emergency lights casting long shadows across the floor.
This wasn't a battlefield.
This wasn't a place meant for survival.
He was cornered.
His gaze snapped back to the Hollow, and a new wave of terror crashed over him.
It wasn't moving.
It was just… watching him.
He sucked in a breath, his fingers curling into fists even as his body trembled. Why wasn't it attacking?
His skin prickled. His instincts screamed at him that this wasn't normal.
It wasn't looking at him like prey.
It was looking at him like an anomaly.
The weight of that realization settled over him like a noose tightening around his throat. His heartbeat was so loud it felt like it was rattling in his skull.
No. No, no, no. That didn't make sense. He was just a janitor. Just the useless son of a great family. Nothing about him was strange or special.
So then—why was this thing staring at him like that?
The air grew heavier, denser, like something invisible was pressing against his chest.
His vision blurred at the edges.
And then—
The Hollow moved.
Its body blurred forward, shifting between one step and the next, and in that instant—something inside him snapped.
His vision fractured like a broken mirror.
His heartbeat slowed, then quickened.
And suddenly—he saw everything.
The Hollow's form wasn't just shifting—it was bending, pulling at the very fabric of space around it. The way it moved wasn't natural because it wasn't bound by the same rules. The shadows stretched toward it like they were being devoured.
And beneath it all, something hummed inside him.
A resonance. A pulse. A voice he couldn't understand.
The Hollow hesitated.
For the first time, it hesitated.
The moment shattered.
His knees buckled. His vision swam. His entire body felt too weak, too drained, like something had been ripped out of him before it could fully surface.
The Hollow took a step forward.
The doors behind him slammed open.
"Get down!"
A shockwave tore through the room.
A deafening boom filled the air as a golden arc of compressed force ripped toward the Hollow. The impact shattered the floor where it had been standing, sending cracks racing across the marble.
The Hollow dodged at the last second, its form flickering as it twisted away from the attack.
Kairan turned his head, his thoughts sluggish, disoriented.
A figure stood between him and the creature.
It was Dante. The kind second-year he met earlier
He wasn't wearing his academy coat—just a simple black undershirt and training pants, sweat still on his skin from an earlier session. His arms were bare, revealing thick combat gauntlets wrapped around his fists, glowing faintly from the energy he had just released.
"You okay?" Dante asked, eyes still locked on the Hollow.
Kairan swallowed. His throat was too dry to answer.
Dante's stance was firm. Solid. He rolled his shoulders once, cracking his knuckles, his gauntlets pulsing with raw energy.
The Hollow shifted, its movements growing more erratic. It had dodged Dante's first attack—but now it was tense.
Dante took a slow breath. "Alright then." His fingers curled into fists. "Let's see what you've got."
The Hollow attacked first.
It blurred forward, its form stretching, its limbs twisting like jagged black tendrils.
Dante met it head-on.
He stepped into the strike, his gauntleted fist slamming into the Hollow's body with enough force to send a shockwave blasting outward. The impact cracked the air itself, the kinetic force distorting space for half a second before snapping back.
The Hollow recoiled. Its body flickered, twisting away just before the full force could land.
Dante didn't let up.
His body moved with experience—not the wild, reckless swings of an amateur, but the precise, controlled movements of someone who knew exactly how much power to use.
Another punch. Another explosion of force. The very air rippled.
The Hollow twisted, barely avoiding it. But Dante was already moving again.
Another strike—a downward slam.
The floor shattered beneath them.
The Hollow flickered away.
Dante clicked his tongue. "Fast bastard."
Kairan could only watch.
His pulse thundered against his ribs. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. His body felt wrong.
He clenched his teeth. Why couldn't he move? Why did his legs feel so heavy?
The battle raged in front of him.
And for a brief second—the Hollow's gaze flicked back to him.
Not as prey.
Not as an enemy.
But as something else.