The air was heavy in the academy as the days ticked down toward the Third Trial. Two weeks remained. Disciples trained with desperate frenzy, clan elders tightened their preparations, and instructors drilled students to their limits.
But Kaelith's focus was elsewhere.
For months, suspicion had eaten at him. He had felt the weight of unseen eyes, the slither of shadows in corners, the lies buried in polite words. His master had told him not to interfere, but Kaelith could not ignore his instincts.
That night, while the academy slumbered under the silver wash of moonlight, Kaelith moved silently across the rooftops. His aura was suppressed, his movements blending into the dark like a phantom.
Below, in a secluded courtyard rarely used at night, he finally saw it.
Instructor Malreth.
And he wasn't alone.
Three other figures cloaked in black stood before him, their voices hushed but edged with malice.
Kaelith narrowed his eyes.
So it's true. Spies.
He crouched low, straining to catch their words.
"…two weeks left," Malreth whispered hoarsely. "If we strike during the trial, the academy will be distracted. Their defenses weaker."
One cloaked figure laughed quietly. "Then the vaults will be open to us. The Immortal Heart Manual will finally be within reach."
Kaelith's breath caught. So that's their goal.
But before he could slip away to warn his master, Malreth stiffened. His eyes darted toward the rooftop.
Kaelith cursed silently. His aura had flickered for only an instant, but it was enough.
"There!" Malreth shouted.
The three cloaked figures snapped their heads up, their eyes glowing faintly red in the dark.
Kaelith leapt backward, his body blurring into motion — but it was too late. The spies had already moved.
"Get him!"
---
The Chase
Kaelith dashed across the rooftops, tiles shattering under his feet as the three assassins followed. Their speed was monstrous, their footsteps like thunder against stone.
Malreth shouted after them, his face twisted with desperation. "Don't let him escape! Kill him before he warns the others!"
Kaelith's mind raced. I can't fight them inside the academy. If the disciples or instructors sense this, they'll panic. No — I need to draw them away.
With a sharp turn, he vaulted over the academy's wall, vanishing into the dark wilderness beyond.
The assassins followed without hesitation.
They raced across forests, their shadows flickering through the trees. Kaelith's breath was steady, his body flowing like water as he weaved through branches and leapt over rivers. The assassins were fast — but Kaelith was faster.
Yet he could not shake them.
If I keep running, I'll only exhaust myself. I'll have to fight.
Ahead, a mountain ridge rose like a jagged beast against the night sky. Kaelith angled toward it, his body surging with Tier 4 energy.
The assassins grinned beneath their masks. "Good. Run to your grave."
---
The First Clash
On the mountainside, the battle began.
The first assassin struck without hesitation, his palm glowing with sickly black energy. Kaelith met it with a clenched fist, the shockwave shaking the earth.
Boom!
The clash blasted both backward. Kaelith landed hard, his knuckles burning. The assassin sneered.
"So the rumors are true. You've reached Tier Four. But you're still nothing."
The second and third assassins moved in unison, blades flashing in the moonlight. Kaelith dodged the first strike, ducked the second, then retaliated with a spinning kick that cracked against one assassin's ribs.
The man grunted, staggering back — but the third was already on Kaelith, his blade arcing toward his neck.
Clang!
Kaelith's forearm blocked the strike, sparks flying. Pain shot up his arm, but he twisted his wrist, grabbed the assassin's blade, and drove his knee into the man's gut.
The assassin coughed blood, stumbling away.
But Kaelith was already surrounded again.
Three Tier 4 assassins, coordinated and ruthless.
His body moved like a storm, fists and kicks lashing out in a deadly rhythm. Each strike carried the resonance of his Origin Sigil, the air cracking with every blow.
But they were relentless. Every time he landed a strike, two more came back at him. Cuts opened across his arms, bruises spread across his ribs.
Kaelith spat blood, but his eyes burned with defiance.
I've lived through countless deaths. I won't fall here.
---
The Enforcer Arrives
As the battle raged, a ripple of oppressive energy rolled across the mountain.
The assassins froze for an instant, then smiled cruelly.
From the shadows stepped a fourth figure. Taller. Stronger. His aura was heavier, pressing against Kaelith like a mountain.
Tier Three.
Kaelith's body tensed.
So they brought a Tier Three enforcer as well.
The man's voice was deep, mocking. "So this is the boy who threatens the Dark Shadow Clan? Pathetic. You'll die before you even learn what true despair feels like."
Kaelith's grip tightened. His blood roared in his veins.
The enforcer blurred forward, his fist slamming into Kaelith's guard. The impact cracked stone, launching Kaelith backward through a boulder.
Boom!
Kaelith coughed blood, staggering to his feet. His arms trembled from the force.
But his eyes… they still burned.
"Pathetic, am I?" he spat blood. "Then why do you need four of you to kill me?"
The enforcer snarled and charged again.
Their fists collided, shockwaves rippling through the mountainside. Kaelith's body screamed with pain, every strike from the Tier Three heavier than thunder. But he refused to fall.
Strike for strike, he held his ground.
The assassins watched in disbelief.
"He's only Tier Four… how can he stand against Lord Varok's strength?"
Kaelith's mind blazed with focus. His body moved on instinct, every punch, every kick fueled by the resonance of his Origin Sigil. He wasn't equal to Tier Three in ability — not yet. But in will, in sheer defiance, he was unmatched.
Each clash shook the mountain. Rocks crumbled, trees splintered, the earth itself groaned beneath their battle.
But Kaelith's strength was waning. His arms grew heavy, his breath ragged.
The enforcer smirked, pressing harder.
"You fight well… for a corpse."
He drove a fist toward Kaelith's chest. Kaelith twisted, barely avoiding a fatal blow, but the strike tore across his ribs, blood spraying into the night.
Kaelith staggered, his body on the verge of collapse.
And just as the assassins moved in for the kill—
---
The Master's Arrival
A voice split the night.
"ENOUGH."
The assassins froze.
From above, descending like a blade of light, came Vice-Master Sylara. Her aura blazed like a tempest, pressing down on the mountain with the weight of Tier Two.
The assassins stumbled back, their faces paling.
"Vice-Master—!"
Kaelith collapsed to one knee, his breath ragged, blood dripping from his lips. Relief washed over him as Sylara's aura wrapped around him like a shield.
Her eyes burned with fury as she looked at the assassins.
"You dare raise your blades against one of mine? Against him?"
Her aura surged. The assassins staggered as if crushed by an ocean, blood spurting from their lips.
Even the Tier Three enforcer, Varok, gritted his teeth, his face twisting in pain.
"Damn… she's here already—"
Sylara's hand lifted, her fingers glowing with lethal energy.
"Spies. Traitors. Shadows. Your lives end tonight."
The mountain shook as her power descended, light swallowing the darkness.
---
End of the Battle
Kaelith fell fully to the ground, his vision blurring.
But before darkness claimed him, he saw it — the look in his master's eyes. Not just anger. Not just vengeance.
Pride.
"You did well, Kaelith," she said softly, even as her power obliterated the assassins.
"You stood against shadows far beyond your level. You proved you are no weakling… but a storm yet to come."
And then Kaelith lost consciousness, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion.
The mountain burned with light, the spies' screams echoing into the night.
The Dark Shadow Clan's game had been revealed.
And the storm was only beginning.