The world had always belonged to the strong. That was the first lesson Silas learned as a child.
In the Sanctuary of Ashvale, strength was everything. Power determined status, ability defined survival, and those without either were discarded like broken tools. The city was a fortress carved into the remnants of a fallen world—monsters roamed the wilderness, and only those gifted with Shadow Arts could fight them back.
But Silas was powerless.
Unlike the other young trainees who awakened sparks of darkness, fire, or spirit, Silas awakened nothing. His Shadow Orb—a crystal that revealed the potential within—remained dull and lifeless. A "null," they called him. Useless. Dead weight.
For years, he endured the whispers.
For years, he carried nothing.
But deep inside, something slept.
---
The training grounds echoed with cheers as the top apprentices displayed their gifts. A boy named Night, already capable of bending shadows into weapons, drew the admiration of the crowd. Another, Cipher, manipulated streams of glowing codes, unraveling his opponent's defenses like breaking puzzles.
Silas stood at the far end, holding a wooden blade. His arms shook, not from fear, but from the exhaustion of swinging against impossible odds.
"Why are you still here, Silas?" a voice mocked. Rogue, known for his speed and stealth, stepped out from the crowd. His smile was sharp. "You should know your place. Training with us won't change the fact you're nothing."
The other apprentices laughed.
Silas tightened his grip. The wooden blade felt heavier with every word. He wanted to shout back, to prove them wrong, but what proof did he have?
The instructor's voice cut through the noise.
"Pair for sparring matches!"
Rogue's smirk widened. "You're mine."
---
The match lasted seconds. Rogue disappeared from sight and struck from Silas's blind spot. The wooden sword flew from Silas's hands, and his body slammed into the dirt. The crowd roared with laughter.
"You see? Nothing," Rogue said, standing over him.
Silas clenched his fists. The taste of blood filled his mouth. But something strange stirred within his chest. A faint whisper—so faint he thought it was his imagination.
Do you want strength?
His vision darkened. Just for a moment, the world blurred, and the mocking voices sounded distant. He saw shadows moving at the edge of his sight. Reaching. Calling.
"Stand down!" the instructor barked, breaking the moment. The whisper faded. The shadows vanished.
Silas remained on the ground, gasping for air. But his heart beat faster—not from fear, but from anticipation.
For the first time in his life, he felt it.
Something was there. Hidden. Sleeping.
---
That night, while the others celebrated their victories, Silas sat alone on the outer wall of Ashvale. Beyond the stone barriers lay endless darkness, forests crawling with monsters that even trained hunters feared.
He whispered to the night, as if answering the voice he'd heard.
"…If there's power in me… then I'll find it. I'll drag it out. No matter what it takes."
The shadows at his feet flickered. Barely noticeable. But enough to prove one thing:
He carried something.
And one day, the world would learn it.
🔥 End of Chapter 1 🔥