Raven Lockhart's confidence was a dark shroud enveloping him. In his mind, already gnawed at by the influence of Zephyr Blackthorn, Professor Lysander Aldrich was nothing more than a lifeless shell. The scholar's stillness, eyes sealed shut upon the cold flagstones of the main square, confirmed his macabre certainty. Invisible threads of abyssal energy, the very same that had dismembered lives in the Star Tournament, slid silently from his spectral fingers. They were extensions of a will corrupted to the marrow, strands of interstellar nothingness woven with a visceral venom, seeking to sever and subjugate.
The first thread lunged like a ghostly whip towards Lysander's jugular, followed by others seeking his wrists and ankles. The intention was ruthless: to trap the professor, twist his limbs to the point of open fracture, turn him into a broken puppet at the mercy of his new master. Raven's icy smile widened, anticipating the imminent mutilation.
But in the last flicker of existence, before the invisible tether could sever his windpipe, Lysander Aldrich moved. He didn't open his eyes, didn't make a sound. He was a blur in space, a sudden subtraction of his presence, only to reappear a metre away, barely avoiding the lethal contact. Raven's threads lashed the empty air, the abyssal energy rippling like enraged spectres for their elusive prey.
Raven narrowed his eyes, the smugness on his face cracking with visceral surprise. "What the devil... Impossible..." he muttered, his voice reverberating with the unnatural resonance of the abyssal energy.
Lysander remained static, eyelids closed, his breathing almost imperceptible. He didn't see the threads, but he felt them: a chilling prickle in the air, a sickening distortion in the flow of the surrounding stellar energy, as if an icy infestation sought to ensnare him to the point of suffocation. His mind worked with clinical coldness, dissecting the nature of that invisible threat.
"Stellar abyssal energy... That masked parasite, Zephyr Blackthorn, is the source of this corruption," Lysander thought, his usual seriousness now taut as tempered steel from the gravity of the situation. "Ever since his shadowy arrival at the academy, I sensed the stench of his intentions. Too hidden, a power that oozed an unhealthy darkness... These threads aren't simple physical restraints, they seek to violate the very psyche..."
Raven, recovering a mask of control, launched another barrage of threads, faster and in an intricate configuration, seeking to immobilise Lysander in a spectral net. The professor danced again, his movements precise and minimalist, each step calibrated to remain on the threshold of danger. It was as if he was feeling the blackness in the air, anticipating the trajectory of the invisible attacks with an almost prophetic intuition.
"You slithering pest, old man," Raven hissed, his tone injected with rising bile. "But the reaper always catches up. Zephyr's power is a bottomless pit."
Lysander finally opened his eyes. His gaze, deep and sombre, fixed on Raven. There was no fear in them, only relentless concentration and a bitter sorrow for the defilement of his former disciple.
"Raven," Lysander articulated, his voice firm but devoid of any reproach. "This isn't you. The darkness is eating you to the bone."
"Me? I'm ascending!" Raven spat with a maniacal laugh that echoed with unnatural resonances across the square. "You lot were grovelling in ignorance, chained to a paltry existence. Zephyr has shown me true potency, that which resides in the icy void between the stars."
As the words hung in the tainted air, Lysander retreated with surprising agility, uncharacteristic of his tranquil demeanour, offering no counter-attack. His purpose was to evade, to gain time.
"He must be feeling the prickle of frustration. His initial arrogance is crumbling," Lysander analysed with cutting coldness. "Ever since that spawn called Zephyr materialised, this academy has reeked of death. His influence is a spreading gangrene... Raven's sanity is fraying... now is the moment."
At that precise moment, as Raven unleashed another frantic attack, Lysander stopped his macabre dance. He straightened up in the heart of the ruins, his eyes fixed on his former student with piercing intensity. A subtle energy began to radiate from his body, expanding outwards in a radius of several metres: his Synaptic Rupture Point.
Within this invisible radius, the air seemed to condense, vibrating with a palpable tension. Raven, who was lunging forward with a sadistic smile at his seemingly immobile prey, felt a chill of icy disorientation run down his spine. His thoughts fragmented, the commands to the threads became spasmodic, his perception of reality distorted to the point of nausea. It was like trying to focus your gaze in the midst of a vortex of shadows.
"What... what are you doing to me?" Raven stammered, his control over the threads beginning to crumble like ash. They moved without purpose, the lethal precision of before turned into an erratic dance of madness.
Lysander seized the opening. With surprising speed, uncharacteristic of his apparent age, he lunged at Raven. His first movement was a feint with his left hand, drawing Raven's attention upwards, while his right leg rose in a swift arc, impacting the knee of the corrupted youth. The blow resonated with force amplified by a subtle infusion of stellar energy, destabilising Raven.
Before Raven could react, Lysander pivoted on his supporting foot, delivering an elbow strike to the ribs, the dry impact echoing in the air. Simultaneously, a faint bluish aura enveloped his fists, small concentrations of stellar energy ready to be released at the right moment. He dodged a clumsy lash from a dark thread and responded with a direct strike to Raven's solar plexus, the contained stellar energy released on impact, causing a jolt of pain that made the youth gasp.
Raven stumbled back, reeling, his dark threads moving erratically due to the nascent Disruption induced by Lysander's Synaptic Rupture Point. The professor advanced with a tense calm, his eyes fixed on every movement of his former student. He blocked a desperate attempt by Raven to ensnare him with the threads, using his forearms reinforced with an invisible layer of stellar energy.
Capitalising on Raven's sluggishness, Lysander landed another blow, this time to the jaw, the stellar energy concentrated in the knuckle causing a crack and snapping Raven's head back. He followed with a low, swift kick to the ankle, seeking to further undermine his opponent's stability. Every one of Lysander's movements was precise, economical, and calculated, combining martial technique with subtle control of his stellar energy, not to cause mass destruction, but to disorient and control.
Finally, with one last fluid movement, Lysander landed a firm blow to Raven's sternum, the stellar energy released on impact not intended to knock out, but to disrupt the flow of his own abyssal energy and drive him clear of the range of his Synaptic Rupture Point. Raven was sent flying into the rubble, crashing against a ruined wall with an ominous crunch, coughing blood and gasping for air, confusion and pain clouding his disfigured face. The dark threads convulsed around him, inert and directionless.
Lysander remained still, watching his former student with a sombre expression. There was no triumph on his face, only deep consternation. His Astral Edge: Disruption had worked, disorienting Raven enough to allow him to land a flurry of precise blows and drive him away momentarily. But he knew it was only a momentary reprieve. Zephyr Blackthorn's influence had too deep a hold.
In that instant, in the academy's main square, Jake was stunned and exhausted after Raven's initial attack. From the academy's main entrance, two figures were running through the gardens towards him.
Sophia, her face contorted with worry, shouted from a distance as she spotted his figure: "Jake!" She ran towards him at full speed, her arms extended for a tight embrace, relieved to see him apparently unharmed. Aria followed at a slower pace, her gaze fixed on Jake with an intensity she herself didn't quite understand. A pang of discomfort went through her upon seeing Sophia's effusive embrace, a confused feeling she tried to conceal with a neutral expression as she approached the group.
Lysander, aware that his students were now safe in the square, prepared for Raven's next onslaught, knowing that the battle in the shattered heart of the Coliseum was far from over. Raven's frustration was palpable as he tried to scramble to his feet amidst the rubble, his power, fuelled by an abyssal entity, remained a latent threat, like a wounded beast ready to unleash even greater fury. The echo of the stars, which Lysander had dedicated his life to understanding, now resonated with a mournful urgency in the shattered heart of the Coliseum. The impossible dance between the flickering light and the ravenous shadow continued, staining the scene a deeper crimson.