The Midan Clan...
The Cold Moon Sect...
The Training Ground...
The day all disciples had waited for has finally come.
The day when silence was suspended.
The day to fight for their freedom.
And only 100 disciples were chosen from each sect.
Only 50 gain their freedom out of 500 disciples.
Those who failed were to remain for another 100 years for another tournament.
It clearly meant they didn't train enough.
They were too weak to face the outside world.
Of course, not all escaped the face of death.
At some point, its either you kill or be killed.
A simple way to eliminate the weak ones among them.
Those who held no value to the outside world and only occupy space.
Clearly useless.
And worthless.
When the gong was struck three times, the disciples gathered at the training ground
Those chosen for the tournament.
The rest remained in their quarters.
The training ground was alive with the sound of swords and the rhythm of breath.
The tournament was extremely dangerous, fighting against other sects to gain freedom and out of 500 only 50 earn their freedom.
The rest are to wait for another 100 years of torment. Those who escaped death to be precise.
The dead are never seen again.
Yet when the eight gathered at the far side,
Conversations thinned and movements slowed.
Disciples glanced towards them in quick, cautious looks, then away, as though staring too much would draw unwanted attention.
The ordinary disciples kept their distance yet their eyes betrayed them.
Some stared with awe, drinking in the sight of perfection they could scarcely imagine reaching.
Others lowered their gazes quickly, afraid that looking too long at the eight would mark them as presumptuous.
Envy simmered in a few hearts though it was swallowed in silence, for envy had no place where discipline reigned.
Whispers sometimes passed like shadows : how did Kaelen rise so quickly? Why does serith never falter? But when the eight stepped into the battle ground, those whispers died.
The younger boys straightened their robes, tried to stand taller, hoping to mirror the stillness they saw. Yet their lines always wavered, their breathing always betrayed them while the eight stood unmoving like a carved wall of sky and stone.
For among the young, there lingered a quiet fear: that no matter how many years they endure, no matter how many trails they survived, they might never stand as those eight stood __ Silent. Unshaken. Chosen.
Kaelen and Serith were speaking in low tones, Voric stood motionless,arms folded and the rest listened with that cold stillness that marked them.
Their presence bent the space around them and even the clang of weapon seemed quieter there.
Two younger disciples practicing with their spears paused at the edge of the training ground. One titled his head towards the eight, his voice little more than breath.
" Look at them. Always together. Always apart. Like they don't belong to us."
The other frowned stealing a glance before lowering his eyes quickly.
" Don't say it too loud. You know what they call them."
The first gave a nervous half- smile, whispering the words as though afraid the wind might carry them.
" The Hallow Eight"
The second shivered, not from cold.
" Because, there's nothing left inside them" he muttered. " No warmth. Just Coldness. Just silence."
A third disciple nearby, hearing, added in a whisper.
" Not Hallow Eight. They are called ' The Pale Shadows'. Always standing where we cannot."
The words passed like a drift through the group __ hushed, wary but tinged with both fear and bitterness. And yet when the Eight turned their heads, even slightly, silence swallowed the whispers whole.
Back straightened, gazes fixed firmly ahead.
And the name vanished into the cold air.
" Heard the victim admitted into the ways of the heartless is joining us for the tournament, if he still lives." Kaelen revealed. His grey eyes darkened.
" A slot was preserved for him?" Cyras raised an eyebrow.
" No one has ever survived the 100 years seclusion of the ways of the heartless." Rynar frowned. " The masters clearly know that so why would leave a slot for him. It doesn't make sense."
" Incase you don't understand Cyras, he trying to tell that your thinking faculty isn't functioning properly." Thalen grinned.
" Idiot "Cyras murmured under his breath.
" Maybe he's__"
" He's Alive." Voric's answer silenced them.
" What did you say?!" Serith eyes widened in surprise.
" Impossible " Maelric snapped." No disciple in the ways of the heartless has never made it through the hundred years seclusion learning the laws like a maniac"
" You dare to argue with me?" Voric glared at them. " He lives. Goes by the name 'Rose Black '. Don't ask me how I know. I've got my sources."
" You sound serious so I believe you." Isaran spoke up. " Does he pose as a threat to our victory?"
" I don't __"
Kaelen suddenly paused.
A sharp pain shot through his chest.
He groaned in pain.
His vision became blurry.
His hands began to tremble.
" Kaelen? Are you alright?" Isaran asked
Voric's face went white.
He sensed something.
His breathing seized.
Looking around he realised everyone was in the same condition.
Cyras suddenly brought out his dagger and was about to stab himself.
" What are you doing?! Cyras snap out of it!"
Thalen held his hand firmly.
" What's happening?"
Voric whispered in a croaked voice.
His inner energy was being drained.
He tried to supress the force but it was all in vain.
A sudden urge to take one's life.
Only one who possesses the killing aura have such power.
And those who have this aura are Whisperers.
Extremely rare creatures.
Voric had been here for 300 years.
And he knew one thing, that there was no whisperer in the Cold Moon Sect.
So who was behind this?
Someone was trying the eliminate them all at once.
" It's the killing aura" Serith whispered as he tried to supress the force but coughed out blood.
" Urges you to takes your own life , those who refuse, theirs will be taken by force."
A sudden silence fell upon them.
They began to hear footsteps.
One that sounded displeasing to the ears.
A sharp pain shot through their chest.
They groaned in pain.
The footsteps became clearer and closer.
The closer the footsteps, the more pain they felt.
The aura made it impossible for them to breath.
Someone was approaching them.
The one who possessed the killing aura.
He stepped into the training ground.
" Hello"
His voice soft yet sounded cold.
His robe fashioned in pure white.
Long and unbroken.
It's lines simple yet commanding.
Sky blue panels fell from the shoulders, tapering down the sides like strokes of ink upon snow, given the garment the impression of quiet motion even when still.
A wide sash of the same blue bound his waist, knotted cleanly at the center, it's ends trailing just above the knees.
Rose looked around.
And wondered why they were all staring at him like he came out from a book.
' why were they all groaning just now. Is that their way of communication?'
' And why are they placing their hands on their chest. Are they meditating?'
' Did I interrupt them?'
He wasn't good with words and didn't know what to say so he just stared back at them.
" Who are you?" Serith asked as he stumbled forward and stood before him.
Serith glared at him but Rose didn't flinch.
He had no fear.
His face without emotions.
Before Serith, he was a tall beautiful doll with a dark mind.
His eyes looked dead.
His lily white skin remained fresh and smooth.
His face revealed no emotions.
" You already know who I am, so why ask?"
His response shocked everyone.
No one ever talked back at Serith.
" You and your tiny gang were discussing about me.... Or should I say the pale shadows?"
His words cut through the air like daggers.
Yet he uttered those words effortlessly.
His face didn't hold a grudge.
" S...So y... you're Rose Black. You also possess the killing aura. So you're a whisperer." Serith revealed coldly.
Anger boiled within him.
" It's him"
" The victim from the ways of the heartless"
" Did he just say whisperer??!!"
" He's dangerous"
" Impossible. No one has ever survived the seclusion."
" He possess the killing aura? What's that all about?"
" But, if he is a whisperer ,how can he talk?"
" That's true. Whisperers remain dumb from birth till death. A sacrifice for the gift they received."
" But he still talks."
Rose nodded at Serith's response.
" That's true"
" But don't blame me for what occurred today. I supressed my aura to the lowest."
Rose titled his head. His dark eyes sent shivers down Serith's spine.
" If they die, it's their fault for being too weak not mine."