Astra stood upon the edge of his soul sea, the vast, starlit abyss stretching beneath him. The lone, radiant star hung low over the water, its light rippling across the dark waves. Shadows stirred at the edges of his vision, restless, eager. His celestial mana burned within him, wild and new, demanding mastery.
He lifted his hand.
A sharp burst of starlight erupted from his palm, blinding, brief. The shadows recoiled, twisting away from the sudden flare. But the light flickered out too fast—unstable, fleeting. Astra clicked his tongue. Not enough. Again.
Another flash. Brighter. Sharper. The water churned beneath him, reflecting the light in chaotic ripples. Better.
He exhaled and shifted gears. Shadows coiled at his fingertips, drawn by his will.
A flickering, spectral shadow detached from his feet, slithering along the waves before latching onto an unseen presence. It whispered, formless, indistinct—watching, waiting. A spy made of darkness itself. Useful.
Astra turned swiftly, hands moving without hesitation.
A concentrated streak of star-energy shot from his palm, crackling like a comet. It struck the water's surface, sending out a pulse of glowing ripples. The force was weak, inconsistent—not yet refined—but promising.
The shadows responded, seething. They didn't like being ignored.
He snapped his fingers. The ocean's reflection twisted, a small patch of shadow locking in place, fixed unnaturally against the deep ocean of shadows shifting waves. He stepped forward, testing it. A slight resistance—a tether. Subtle, but effective.
He smirked. Now for movement.
Starlight surged around him, and he blinked out of existence—reappearing just a few feet away, standing weightlessly over the abyss. The instant dizziness hit, he clenched his jaw. Not perfect. Needs stability.
But before he could adjust, the shadows leapt at the opportunity.
Darkness curled around him, the perfect counterbalance to his light. The ocean's surface darkened where he stood, his form blending into the night.
He felt it—his spells lasted longer now, his presence in the shadows more natural. Good. Very good.
Astra summoned his weapons.
A thin, radiant blade flared into existence, its edge humming with celestial energy. In his other hand—
Shadows wrapped around the sword, distorting its form, cloaking it in darkness. Light and shadow, merged into a single deadly edge.
He also used the stolen dagger he had as well as his own old dagger, although they couldn't even compare to the Long Sword crafted by an angel.
Astra exhaled, heart pounding. The star above him pulsed, the shadows at his feet quivered.
He was no longer just a man standing between the two forces. He was the bridge
...
Astra sat on a worn stone bench just outside the underground Forge District, the air still thick with the scent of smelted metal and coal.
His head ached from hours spent refining his mana, his limbs sluggish from the strain of wielding celestial and shadow magic in tandem. He was making progress, but mastery felt distant—just like the stars themselves.
His Regal Coin pulsed faintly against his palm, its cold surface alive with information as he flicked through the archive section, his eyes scanning the ancient text that detailed the sword arts of the House of Night.
"The Sword of the Stars..."
[Mastery]
[0-9]
Astra's gaze lingered on the description of the celestial blade style. It was a style of brilliance—speed, momentum, radiance. It did not simply overwhelm; it dazzled, striking like falling stars and weaving light into every motion. Each movement was elegant, each attack unpredictable. It was a swordplay meant for those who fought in the open, for those who shone.
Instinctual knowledge popped into his head, it was strange, like a weak foundation was set that can be improved upon. it had nine levels of mastery as well. He had merely cracked the surface.
Then came the Sword of the Shadows.
[Mastery]
[0-9]
A stark contrast. Deception. Precision. Extreme utility and versatility. The unseen hand that ended battles before they began. Astra read how its warriors never wasted movement, never fought head-on unless it was on their terms. They moved within the absence of light, as if they were shadows themselves. There was no waste, no hesitation. Only execution.
Astra exhaled, his breath visible in the cooler night air as he ascended from the Forge District, making his way back toward the Human District.
The clang of hammers faded behind him, replaced by the distant hum of the Springtime Advent Festival still raging above. Yet, something had changed. The fireworks had stopped, and the air felt charged, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
He walked calmly avoiding eyesight as he glanced back down at his Regal Coin, his mind a storm of thoughts.
"Sword of the Stars... Sword of the Shadows..."
He had never been trained in either. Never had a proper mentor. He had always fought like a survivor, not a warrior. But now, with his new mana, his inner star awakened, and the shadows answering his call, he had the potential to walk both paths.
"I wonder if it's possible to make my own sword style..... Odin did mention I was the only one ever blessed by both Shadow and Night..." Even know Astra didnt dare usher true gods names, even if he as related to them. He wasnt that blasphemous yet.
He gripped the coin tighter
Astra stepped into the festival streets, the warmth of lanterns and the scent of roasted meats filling the air.
The Springtime Advent Festival was still in full bloom—silken banners of midnight blue and gold fluttered from the rooftops, and enchanted lights flickered above the cobbled roads like captured fireflies.
But something had shifted.
The revelry was still there, but wariness had settled beneath it, an unspoken tension rippling through the crowds. The fireworks had stopped. The music had quieted. The laughter was thinner now, and conversations held a certain cautious edge. Duskgaurds flooded the streets and the air was thick with tension.
Astra noticed the change in guard activity immediately.
More patrols. Heavier presence. The usual festival watch—relaxed and ceremonial—was now replaced with ranked knights in dark steel, their Regal Coins glinting coldly against their cloaks. They moved in coordinated formations, sharp-eyed and alert. Lantern light flashed against polished breastplates, and their hands lingered near the pommels of their weapons.
Astra pulled his hood up, blending into the shifting crowd. He wasn't the only one noticing. Merchants exchanged wary glances.
Nobles whispered behind lace fans. Even the street performers, who should have been thriving in the festival's peak, had dimmed their performances, casting glances toward the fortress walls, where the highest-ranking figures of Duskfall surely watched.
Something had happened.
Something big enough to put the city on edge.
Suddenly an amusing thought entered his mind. This was definitely due to my obtaining of godhoods. I made such a commotion that everyone noticed, he still remembered those indescribable gazes that tried prying into what Odin was doing. Thankfully Odin shielded me before the Seraphs could take real action.
It seems I have set the city on high alert. Wow I really am moving up in the world. I really went from putting a district on high alert to now the whole city! He mocked himself. As he fought back a smile.
Astra kept moving, his footsteps light against the stone. He could feel it—the faint stir in the mana around him, the way the shadows pulled closer, the way the stars above seemed just a little too bright as some bled through the violet twilight.
Astra moved through the festival streets, now clad in the Nightshroud, its undergarments snug against his form like a second skin, while its travel mode settled over him in flowing layers of deep gray and shadowed blue.
The cloak, woven with enchantments, absorbed the light just enough to blur his silhouette, making him seem less distinct, harder to noticeunless one truly focused.
At his hip, his Regal Coin rested against the fabric, its surface gleaming obsidian black, a near-perfect replica of a House Shadow Noble's insignia, A golden Ouroboros.—a subtle deception, but an effective one. He had simply sent out a request to House Shadow, to use it through the regal coin of his. Like a beacon for aid. For some reason he didn't receive an Immediate response but the coins features were granted. For political and legal purposes he was now under Shadows banner. He can imagine how confused House Shadow is right now to receive a request of Asylum from someone of House Nights bearing. His house had been long eradicated and Only the Church existed as they maintained a form of friendship with the great House Shadow and the Church of Shadows, Many regal coins from Nights bearing still existed no doubt but none were at the Imperial level. This must have caused a commotion and not only that but the angels of House Shadow had definitely felt the massive disturbance I caused in the divine realms, no matter how minor.
Astras intuition sounded out slightly, he vaguely felt multiple beings attempting to lock onto his location, deep within his soul a corporal cloak made of deep obscured shadows shifted.
It seems the Anti divination properties of my Cloak are working. Astra felt way more comfortable knowing some god could not just send his saint or angel down to smite him and end his life.
Hmm House Shadow has many distant branches, many obscure figures moving in and out the city. To most, I would be just another young noble, one of the countless visitors attending the festival. I could easily link up with some shadow scions and get aid.
I also need to avoid houses and churches that maintain a major presence in Duskfall, Especially Knowledge, Dawn and Dusk. They are no doubt searching for me.
He stopped at a small street stall, the air thick with the scent of citrus and sugar. The vendor, a broad-shouldered man with calloused hands, ladled rosy-pink alcoholic lemonade into a glass, the liquid glistening under the enchanted lanterns.
Gods knew he needed a drink after tonight.
Astra handed over 3 bronze standards and took a sip, the cool sweetness spreading across his tongue.
He exhaled, then leaned slightly against the stall, voice smooth but casual, his noble disguise slipping into place.
"The festival feels... different tonight." His gaze flicked toward a passing patrol of Duskfall knights, their armor catching the lantern light in sharp gleams. "Did something happen?"
"Aye, My lord."
The vendor rubbed a rough hand over his chin, eyes flicking toward the sky as if replaying the moment in his mind. He leaned in slightly, voice hushed but tinged with unease. He was a old rank two with white hair and dark features.
"It was just after dusk. The fireworks had been lighting up the sky, yeah? But then— they stopped. Like someone had smothered the fuse. No final burst, no embers falling—just... silence."
He shuddered, gripping the edge of his stall. "Then the air changed. Heavy. Like the whole damn city was holding its breath. The stars—" he glanced upward again, as if expecting them to shift before his eyes- "they weren't normal."
"They flickered too sharp, too bright, like something behind them was pushing through. And the shadows..."
The man hesitated, his fingers drumming anxiously against the counter. "They moved." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Not the way they should. I saw 'em stretch where there was no light to cast 'em. As if they were celebrating under the tyranny of a Shadow lord. Aye lord, I remember, Shadows only move like that when their lord is nearby, I remember from a past skirmish with a Shadow lord, one that I barely managed to survive. The vendor shuddered as he looked at Astra probingly. Astra almost coughed out his drink thinking he had already been discovered by a hidden being, but he quickly calmed down as he reminded himself he is masquerading as a scion of shadow. The vendor was probing.
Damn I caused such a large commotion? he wondered as he ignored the vendors probes.
The vendor seemingly getting the hint continued.
"People started whispering—some swore they saw shapes in the dark, faces in alleyways that weren't there when they looked twice. Even the guards got nervous. You ever see a Duskfall knight look nervous?" He scoffed, though it did little to mask his own unease.
He wiped his hands on a cloth and set it down with finality. "Something powerful passed through the city tonight. Something Divine, I would say it is a miracle but that response from House Dusk showed it was not. Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn't meant for common folk like us to understand."
The vendor gave Astra a hard look, as if sizing him up for his reaction. "But you lot from the noble houses always seem to know more than we do. So tell me, young lord—" he gestured to the Regal Coin at Astra's hip, assuming him to be of House Shadow. "Should we be worried?"
Astra took a slow sip of his pink lemonade, smacking his lips thoughtfully before giving the vendor a completely serious look. This was the second time he had probed.
"Oh, absolutely. You should start digging a hole to hide in immediately."
He let the words hang for a moment, watching the vendor's face twitch with alarm before breaking into a smirk. "Or, you know, maybe just charge extra for 'apocalypse-proof' lemonade. Bet the nobles would buy it."
He raised his cup in a mock toast, "To surviving ominous celestial events and mysterious shadow shenanigans."Then, with all the grace of a noble from House Shadow, he took another dignified sip of his very pink, very non-threatening lemonade.
The vendor blinked, his expression caught somewhere between alarm and bafflement. His hands, which had been wiping down his stall, slowed to a stop as he processed Astra's words.
"A… a hole?" he stammered. His eyes darted around as if suddenly considering the feasibility of digging through the cobblestone street.
Then, Astra's smirk registered. The vendor exhaled loudly, shoulders sagging. "By the dead gods, don't do that! You nearly had me running for the hills!" He huffed, shaking his head as he resumed wiping his stall with exaggerated annoyance.
But as Astra toasted with his drink, the vendor snorted. "Apocalypse-proof lemonade, huh? Maybe I should! Double the price for the nobles, triple if they look paranoid."
He chuckled, pouring another drink for a customer, then shot Astra a wary glance. "Still… whatever that was, it wasn't normal. I'd rather be selling drinks than finding out if we should be running."
The vendor continued on
"The fortress of Dusk is restless. Rumors say the Holy Queen herself stirred, and when she moves, the whole city pays attention. After all when Angels move us mortals watch"
Astra swirled the lemonade in his glass, feigning mild curiosity, but his mind sharpened.
The Matriarch of Dusk moved. A angel who was his sworn enemy. Gods.
Astra flashed the vendor a bright smile as he took a final sip of the lemonade, setting the empty cup aside. He gave the man a casual wave.
"I'll be fine. Thank you for the lemonade, old man."
With that, Astra turned and started strolling down the bustling streets, his pace purposeful yet relaxed. The sounds of the festival buzzed around him, with the bright lights of stalls and laughter filling the air, but his focus was on the task at hand.
The vendor stared as Astra walked away confused as to why he stated "I'll be fine".
"What a strange Scion" he mumbled as he went back to his work
Astras new armor, the Nightshroud, clung to his form in its travel mode, the dark material melding seamlessly with his movements. The regal coin at his hip—a silent, gleaming reminder of House Shadow—was tucked securely beneath the folds of his cloak.
As he walked, Astra passed a pair of Dusk Knights stationed near a street corner. They gave him a brief glance but quickly turned away, uninterested. His disguise—both in armor and coin—was enough to convince them that he belonged, as expected. They wouldn't dare offend a young lord of House Shadow after all.
"I need to find a high-ranking member of House Shadow but with my blessings now I doubt they can find me, Astra still felt many attempts at locating him, it wasn't too many attempts as most angels did not dare pry into the secrets of another pinnacle tier angel but the seraphs and other powerful angles did not care, but as of right now it had blocked out all attempts at divination or location. I might perhaps even contact the church of night as they definitely wont find me." Astra muttered to himself, his voice almost lost in the hum of the crowd.
I need someone who can help me navigate this mess and get the information I need. If I'm going to grow stronger, I need more than just raw magical prowess. I need proper training and shelter before I get discovered by House Dusk.
He paused for a moment, glancing up toward the silhouette of the distant castle.The fortress of Dusk was like a looming figure of oppression to Astra. It aways had been but now it was significantly worse.
A flicker of determination crossed Astra's face as his pace quickened. His path had become clearer, but he still needed the right connections to unlock his true potential. There was much to learn, and much to conquer. He decided on meeting the Church later. Shadow first. I need to be safe first, I can worry about amassing power later.
As Astra wandered through the bustling streets of Duskfall, his mind preoccupied with his own plans and goals, his eyes lazily scanned the surroundings. The festival's lively atmosphere filled the air with music, laughter, and the clinking of cups.
Stalls offered all kinds of exotic foods, and the scent of roasting meats and sweet treats wafted through the crowd. The streets were alive with color, everyone eager to embrace the excitement of the springtime advent festival.
But Astra's thoughts were elsewhere. He had more pressing matters on his mind—his magic, his combat skills, and political mess he had to navigate.
He weaved his way through the crowd, He wanted nothing more than to stay under the radar, to avoid attention.
He had enough on his plate already without the added stress of getting involved in anything that might draw eyes to him—especially not in a place like this, where powerful nobles, warriors, and magic users were everywhere. I am still a mere rank one, I can die so easily. He reminded himself
His gaze flicked idly across the various signs and banners that decorated the festival streets. There were advertisements for food, performances, and a few magical exhibitions.
He paid them little mind, until a large, vivid screen caught his eye. It was hard to miss. A swirling golden emblem of crossed swords beneath a radiant star, emblazoned with the words:
"Springtime Advent Tournament—Open to All! May Mana Bless the Bold!"
The proclamation lit up one of the floating crystal-screens overhead. A sweeping montage of past champions and duels flashed across it—epic battles, cheers from the crowd, explosions of magic, the clash of weapons under glowing skies.
Astra paused in his stride, glancing upward with mild curiosity.
Oh yeah, thats happening, Astra completely forgot about this grand Spectacle, the real reason why Duskfall becomes crowded during the spring time advent. It was the tournament where the most prestigious scions and even beggars competed at a chance for glory and prizes! Astra would love to experience walking out to a crowd chanting his name in a packed coliseum as he battles for glory, like many other men and women who walk the path of power.
The screen played another clip—this one featuring a heavily armored swordswoman cleaving through summoned beasts while the crowd roared in awe. A glowing wreath of laurels was placed on her head by some local dignitary.
Astra scoffed lightly and kept walking.
"As if I can even compete, lets say I make it far, half the realm is looking for me, I can only imagine how funny It would be for those beings to fail finding me only for me to go end up viral on the mana network competing" he mocked himself.
He wasn't annoyed by the tournament—far from it. There was a charm to its grandiosity, its open invitation to heroes, mercenaries, and adventurers alike. A stage where anyone, regardless of lineage or title, could make a name for themselves.
But he had no desire to stand on it.
"Not really the season for me to start parading around," he muttered dryly.
Prizes, fame, sponsorships, the attention of noble houses—he could see why people risked life and limb to compete. But to him, it was noise he did not need. An elaborate show built atop desperation and bravado. Warriors with flashy spells. Duelists who trained years for a single chance to be seen.
Astra wasn't looking to be seen. Not yet.
No, this wasn't the time for duels and declarations. It was time to sharpen himself in private. To understand the strange intertwining of star and shadow magic coursing through him, to hone his swordplay until it wasn't just functional—it was art.
The banner overhead fluttered in the breeze, calling for challengers bold enough to seize glory. Astra gave it one final glance, the corners of his mouth twitching in the faintest smirk.
"It's a good show," he said quietly. "Maybe I'll watch a match or two."
Then he turned, adjusting the pack on his shoulder, and continued toward the city's quieter districts.
There were inns to find, spells to refine, and strength yet to master.
The first night of the festival in Duskfall was coming to a close. The air, once filled with the vibrant sounds of revelry, began to settle into a hushed stillness, the festival-goers slowly dispersing back to their homes and inns.
Astra walked through the quieter streets, the twinkling lights of lanterns casting long shadows, his thoughts heavy yet calm as he made his way toward the inn where he would spend the night.
The energy of the festival still buzzed faintly in his chest, but it was clear now that he needed rest—a chance to recalibrate after the day's events and refocus on the training ahead.
He reached the inn, a quaint but elegant establishment tucked between two towering stone buildings, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. The atmosphere inside was quiet, the festive energy subdued to the low hum of travelers and weary merchants.
He approached the front desk and exchanged a gold standard for a noble room, his regal coin still tucked beneath his cloak, just another ornament that helped maintain the illusion of a House Shadow noble. It did pain him to pay so much but he needed to act the part lest he be comprised!
The attendant bowed as Astra handed over the payment, and with a subtle nod, led him to a staircase that wound upward. As Astra ascended, the sounds of the inn below softened, the faint murmur of voices becoming a mere whisper in the distance. He arrived at the door to his room and stepped inside.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the first thing Astra did was strip away the trappings of the day—the cloak, the armor beneath, and the heavy layers of attire meant to hide his true identity. In the privacy of his room, he shed the persona of House Shadow and allowed himself a brief moment of freedom. The shower awaited, and with it, a transformation that would bring him back to himself.
The water ran warm, steam filling the space as he stepped under the gentle cascade. He let the liquid embrace him, the sensation of it soaking through his skin, washing away the grime and fatigue of the day. His unruly curls, so wild and untamed in their usual state, began to soften, the moisture giving them a smoothness they had long been deprived of.
He took his time, not rushing, as the minutes passed. His hair, once a chaotic mass, began to fall elegantly around his face, the strands curling perfectly with the water's touch, as if they were always meant to frame his features with such refined grace.
It was a subtle change, but it was a change he could feel within himself—one that connected him more deeply to the royal blood that flowed through his veins, even as he disguised himself as someone else.
Once he finished, Astra stood before the mirror, his wet hair cascading down to his shoulders in perfect waves. His gaze lingered on his reflection for a moment, eyes tracing the familiar yet foreign image. The transformation was almost uncanny.
The noble figure staring back at him was not the wild, untamed youth he was in the depths of his soul, but a polished, breathtakingly handsome figure—one that could easily command attention in any court, even without words.
Astra couldn't help but smile, though there was no pride in it—only quiet acceptance of the duality that made him who he was.
He moved to the large window, the heavy curtains parting with a soft rustle, revealing the expanse of twilight above the city.
The violet skys were even brighter now, and the uncanny bright stars were dimming.
The stars, though fading, seemed to whisper to him, a quiet reminder of his path. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling their pull, knowing his journey was only beginning, even if it was only the first night of the festival.
With a deep breath, Astra turned away from the window, the fading light and the dwindling stars lost to his mind for now.
The room was peaceful, and he felt the weight of the day lift as he lay down on the soft bed, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had lingered all day. His thoughts were still, calm now, allowing his mind to drift into the quiet embrace of sleep.
The last thing he remembered before he succumbed to slumber was the soft glow of the stars outside, dimming into the horizon as the night gave way to the promise of a new day.