Darkness.
Not the kind born by night, nor the shade that dances beneath streetlights.
This was older. Hungrier.
It curled through Kairo Vale's veins like a second bloodstream, wrapping around his spine, pressing against his skull, coiling into every hollow place inside him.
But he stood in the center of it, unmoved.
Beneath his feet, there was no ground, only black mist drifting over a void. Above him, constellations twisted unnaturally, stars rearranging themselves in alien patterns. They pulsed like they were watching him.
Ahead, the creature stirred.
It wasn't a man, but it wore the shape of one, towering, cloaked in ethereal shadow that hissed with every breath. Armor of layered darkness wrapped its limbs, etched with runes that bled silver. Its eyes were hollow caverns filled with distant light, like dying stars.
It gazed upon him from its throne of writhing tendrils.
"You should not be conscious," it said. "You are a vessel. You were born for this. Why resist?"
Kairo said nothing.
The entity leaned forward. Its voice carried the weight of countless years.
"You are nothing. A failure. Unawakened. Abandoned by power, discarded by your blood. Your body is perfect for me because your soul is weak."
Still, Kairo did not answer. He stepped forward, slowly, his boots echoing on the unseen surface beneath him. The world around him reacted with ripples radiating with every footfall, light bending away from his body.
The entity stood from its throne.
"You will kneel."
It lashed out.
Tendrils of shadow screamed through the air, forming spears and blades, crashing toward him like a tidal wave of darkness.
Kairo raised one hand.
The world held its breath.
The tendrils struck, then shattered.
The entity reeled back.
"You…"
Kairo looked up, his eyes calm. The shadows rolled off him like smoke. The air around him trembled with heat not red, not orange, but black, edged with sparks of faint violet lightning.
He didn't speak.
He moved.
A single step.
The void cracked.
He appeared in front of the entity, fist clenched, shadows exploding from his shoulder like a coiled serpent unbound.
The punch landed.
It wasn't just force, it was command. The will of something ancient and absolute. The throne shattered. The creature flew backward, tumbling into the void, screaming as the black flame etched itself across its chest, burning into its core.
Kairo followed.
No flourish. No battle cry.
Just silence and flame.
Strike after strike, blow after blow, he carved through shadow with unrelenting precision. The creature tried to reform, its mass reassembling, claws sprouting, blades emerging from its limbs.
Kairo twisted, dodged, and crushed. He didn't use spells. He didn't need to.
His mana moved as if it had always belonged to him.
The entity's voice broke into a hundred pieces.
"What are you…?"
Kairo grabbed its throat.
The flame surged.
"You are not the vessel," the creature rasped.
"You are the end."
The black flame consumed the world.
The void shook. The stars screamed. The dream cracked.
And then
Silence.
Kairo opened his eyes.
The alley was gone.
He stood in a crater.
The pavement had ruptured. Bricks had melted and fused. Every surface within ten meters was charred. Smoke curled from the air, carrying a faint scent of ash and metal.
He exhaled slowly.
The glow faded from his hands.
There was no roar. No explosion. No fanfare.
Only the quiet realization that something inside him had awakened.
Or rather, been claimed.
He looked down at his hands. They were steady. Flames danced across his knuckles for a moment, flickering shadows with tongues of violet lightning, but vanished just as quickly.
No mana circles. No chant. No invocation.
It was instinct.
Behind his eyes, something stirred.
I slumber now. But I am bound. When you are ready, I will teach you everything.
Kairo said nothing. He picked up the melted remains of his bag. The noodles had burned through the plastic. Useless now.
He turned and walked away.
Above, from a distant rooftop, unseen eyes tracked his steps. A pale figure in a sleek black suit, marked with the crest of the Veil Wardens, lowered his binoculars.
"Unauthorized surge. Type: Unknown. Location: Velmire Alley Sector 9."
He tapped a crystal embedded in his wrist.
"Report sent. Shadow-type confirmed. No civilian casualties."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"And it wasn't natural."
Beneath the city, in a forgotten chamber carved into the roots of the earth, a man wrapped in black robes trembled in front of a sacrificial circle. Candles flickered, blood sigils hissed.
Then the markings turned black.
The air turned cold.
He gasped.
"No… it can't be…"
"The Shadow Heir… lives."