The corridors were silent, lit by torches that cast dancing shadows upon the stone walls.
The unknown man walked with a steady pace, his dark cloak brushing against the floor, leaving behind a faint echo of footsteps.
He entered the grand throne hall.
The air was heavy, infused with the rare scent of incense.
At the center, seated upon an imposing onyx throne, was Valtherion, the Kingdom's Master Strategist, a man with silver hair and eyes as sharp as a blade.
— Report.
His voice was neither harsh nor gentle, but filled with a cold authority.
The stranger knelt, one knee touching the ground.
— The bearer of the present… Léon… He survived the monster's trial. But… he is not alone. Jason of the future and a soldier still stand with him. The deity of time itself intervened.
Valtherion's lips curled into a faint smile.
— As expected… The prophecy is weaving itself.
Then, rising slowly, he descended the steps of the throne.
— You have done well to return. But from now on… this is no longer a mere observation mission. You will be sent to the Fortress of Shadows. There, you will undergo training that will make you my sword in the darkness.
The unknown man lifted his gaze.
— And after?
— After… Valtherion replied, you will bring Léon to me. Whether he wills it or not.
He rose slowly and descended the steps, each footstep echoing in the vast chamber.
— Your role changes from now on. You have skill… but it is unrefined. I will send you to the Fortress of Shadows. There, you will undergo training that will shatter your limits.
The stranger lifted his gaze, surprised.
— Why this training… now?
Valtherion stopped in front of him, locking eyes.
— Because soon, we will need a hunter capable of tracking the bearer of a divinity… and bringing him back, whether he wants it or not.
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the crackle of the torches.
Then Valtherion concluded, in a lower voice, almost like a promise:
— At the Fortress, you will learn to become my shadow… and the shadow never misses its prey.
In the thick of the night, the unknown man left the castle, guided by a silent messenger clad in dark armor. The massive gates closed behind them with a deep rumble, sealing Valtherion's shadow upon his throne.
They crossed the snow-covered paths without exchanging a word, the moon occasionally casting its pale light upon their way. The farther they went, the heavier the air became, as if each step brought them closer to a place where time itself refused to exist.
In the distance, the silhouette of the Fortress of Shadows emerged. Its black walls seemed to drink in the moonlight. No torches, no sign of life—only a massive door engraved with ancient symbols that pulsed with a reddish glow, like a heart beating in slow motion.
The messenger stopped at the entrance.
— This is where your body and spirit will be broken… then rebuilt.
The moment the man crossed the threshold, the door shut behind him, and total darkness swallowed him whole. A deep voice, echoing from everywhere and nowhere, rose:
— Welcome… Here, the light will not save you.
A chilling wind swept through the hall. Chains fell from the ceiling, wrapping around his arms and legs. Then, suddenly, silhouettes emerged from the shadows, encircling him—creatures with white eyes, wielding weapons forged from a black substance like obsidian.
— First trial… Survive the Eternal Night.
And the shadows attacked.
The moon, once pale and serene, now bled into the sky, staining it with a deep crimson glow. Darkness had settled over the land, not as a fleeting shadow, but as an eternal shroud that refused to lift. The stars themselves seemed to have vanished, swallowed by the abyss above.
An unnatural silence reigned, broken only by distant roars and the whispers of creatures lurking beyond sight. The Eternal Night had begun—an age where fear replaced the sun, and hope became a fragile ember, flickering in the hearts of the few who dared to resist.
Some said the night was the punishment of the gods. Others believed it was the work of an ancient curse, reawakened by the chaos of war. But in the depths of this unending darkness, one truth became clear: survival would demand more than courage. It would demand the awakening of powers long thought lost.
The Eternal Night stretched as far as the eye could see, a black veil pierced only by the blood-red light of the moon hanging in the frozen sky. The silence was deceptive… for in the shadows, twisted shapes moved, claws and fangs ready to strike.
Suddenly, a guttural roar tore through the air, followed by a swarm of monsters with warped silhouettes. Their bodies seemed made of liquid shadows, and their eyes burned with animal hatred. They lunged at the stranger.
He did not back down. His body moved as if carried by the wind—one sidestep, a precise pivot, a graceful leap. Every attack passed within inches, slicing through nothing but air. His movements were so fluid they seemed choreographed, a deadly dance where he dictated the rhythm.
One of the monsters tried to catch him off guard by leaping from behind, but the stranger spun effortlessly, barely touching the ground, and the attacker missed its mark, crashing down with a dull thud.
It was as if the Eternal Night itself was testing him… but no creature could lay a finger on him.
The monsters circled again, snarling in frustration, their movements growing more frantic. The stranger's eyes glowed faintly beneath the shadow of his hood—cold, unwavering.
This time, he didn't wait.
With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged forward. His blade—so black it seemed to drink in the dim light—cut through the first monster in a single, fluid motion. The shadow-beast let out a warped scream before dissolving into nothingness.
Another charged from the side, but he pivoted, letting the creature's own momentum carry it into his strike. Sparks of crimson light scattered in the air as the beast's body broke apart.
The Eternal Night howled around him. Each swing of his weapon was deliberate, efficient, almost too fast for the eye to follow. Monsters fell one after another, their forms disintegrating into shreds of darkness that faded into the void.
Yet no matter how many he cut down, more emerged from the black horizon… as if the Eternal Night had no end.
He tightened his grip on his weapon, breathing slow and steady.
"If this night wants to swallow me whole…" he murmured under his breath, his voice like a blade drawn in silence, "…it will choke on me first."