The transition carried an air of ominous anticipation. The black screen gradually surrendered to the haunting image of Dark's upgraded classroom, now a stark contrast to the innocence of their early years at the Academy. The space felt heavier, more severe, reflecting the time that had passed and the battles each student had endured.
Dark had become a commanding figure after seven years, a man now hardened by survival and power. His aura exuded danger, accentuated by the long, feathered black hooded cape he now wore. His black gloves, the scar over his left eye—permanently shut—his entire demeanor bespoke a figure not to be trifled with. His right eye, cold and void-like, seemed to pierce through anything in its path.
The class murmured quietly as they noticed Dark's detached posture, though none dared to approach him. His fellow students had evolved too, their attire more regal, their skills sharper—but none quite like Dark.
Leona entered the room with an air of elegance and quiet power. Her dark purple, wolf-cut hair swayed lightly as she walked, her witch-like ensemble—a fusion of white and black—accentuating her lethal grace. The purple katana at her waist and the black Bo Staff slung over her back marked her as both a warrior and a mage.
Her eyes, glowing faintly with an enchanting light purple hue, locked onto Dark as she approached. The air around them felt different, heavy with an unspoken history. Leona's arm casually draped around Dark's neck as she leaned closer, the gesture familiar, yet charged with an undertone of something more—something left unsaid over the years.
Leona: (softly, with a hint of seduction) Hey there, Dark.
Dark glanced at her, his expression devoid of any real emotion. The man he had become was not easily moved, not by the trivial matters of everyday life, not even by the woman who had stood by his side for years.
Dark: (indifferently) Huh? Oh, hey, Leona.
Leona: (smiling, her tone playful) How was your morning?
Dark: Average. Same as always. What about you?
Leona's smile faltered slightly, something deeper flashing behind her eyes as she watched him. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Leona: (softly) I miss you...
Dark raised an eyebrow, confused by the sudden vulnerability in her words.
Dark: (confused) Huh? Why's that? You saw me yesterday.
Leona's gaze held his, her voice quiet but filled with a strange longing.
Leona: (softly) I don't know... It's just... something inside me. It makes me want to stay with you forever.
Dark's brow furrowed, but he didn't respond. His emotions had hardened over the years, layered under a thick shell of indifference and focus on growing stronger. He wasn't the same boy from the academy. Not anymore.
Without another word, he rose from his seat.
Dark: (abruptly) Sorry, teacher, I'm going out for a while.
Tracy: (taken aback) Oh... umm, alright, Dark. Take care.
The other students barely had time to react as Dark strode to the window. His black cape billowed dramatically behind him, his movements so fluid they appeared effortless. He opened the window and, in a single smooth motion, swung his leg over the sill, descending from the top floor with an elegant leap. He landed softly on his left foot, cape flaring out as he rose to his full height, a smirk playing on his lips.
From above, the students rushed to the window, their eyes wide with shock and admiration.
Random Student: (shouting) Dark! Don't go into the restricted forest!
Another Student: It's dangerous! You know what's in there!
But Dark ignored the warnings. His steps carried him toward the edge of the academy grounds and into the looming shadows of the restricted forest.
The atmosphere changed as soon as he entered the forest. It was a forbidden place, shrouded in thick mist and darker still by the presence of unregistered creatures and entities from other dimensions. The trees were unnaturally tall, their twisted branches creating a canopy that blocked out the sunlight. Strange, otherworldly sounds echoed in the distance—low growls, dissonant tunes that sent shivers down the spine.
Dark moved forward without hesitation. His void-like eye scanned his surroundings as he pushed deeper into the forest. Bloodstains, old and dried, marked the ground, along with dismembered remains of creatures—both human and otherwise. The further he ventured, the thicker the air became, as though the forest itself was alive and watching him.
Dark: (muttering to himself) What am I doing here...?
His thoughts were cut off as he spotted something up ahead—an old, abandoned building barely visible through the dense foliage. It was dilapidated, its structure barely standing. A sense of dread filled the air around it.
Without hesitation, Dark entered the building. The wooden floor creaked beneath his boots as he moved through the darkened hallways. The air was thick with dust, and the walls were peeling, barely holding together. He could feel something—no, someone—waiting for him.
Suddenly, a noise behind him made him turn.
Too late.
A sharp, blinding pain erupted at the back of his skull, and everything went black. Dark's vision blurred, and the world spun around him as his body hit the ground.
When Dark came to, his head throbbed painfully. His vision was still hazy, but he could feel the cold, rough ropes cutting into his wrists. He was bound tightly to a chair in the middle of a dimly lit room. The air was stale, the musty smell of old wood and decay filling his nostrils.
The building creaked ominously around him, the only sound in the heavy silence. He struggled against his bonds, but they were too tight, cutting into his skin with each movement.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a figure emerged from the shadows—Nekros Vortex. The man, if he could even be called that, was draped in menacing black and purple armor, his robotic form casting a faint glow in the dim light. His scythe gleamed in the shadows, and his glowing eyes stared down at Dark with cold calculation.
Dark: (growling) What the hell... who are you? Did you do this?
Nekros didn't respond at first, his attention focused on the advanced machinery laid out on a nearby workbench. His movements were precise, methodical, as though Dark's presence was little more than an inconvenience.
Nekros: (coldly) Be quiet. I'm working.
Dark's fury surged, but he remained still, watching as Nekros tinkered with what appeared to be a futuristic eye patch. The machinery hummed softly, casting a faint glow over the cold, metallic surfaces. Nekros moved with unnatural speed, his hands assembling the device in a blur of motion.
The quiet hum of the machinery filled the room, while Nekros worked with precision, like a master craftsman piecing together a deadly masterpiece. Dark's mind raced as he watched, his muscles tense, itching to make a move. He could feel the pressure building, the sensation of impending danger looming over him like a shadow.
His eyes darted around the room, analyzing every inch of his surroundings. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the peeling walls, creating a sense of isolation, as though the world outside had vanished. The oppressive air felt thick, the only sound the relentless buzz of Nekros's machinery.
Nekros: (coldly, without looking at Dark) You're trying to figure it out, aren't you? Wondering what I'm building... and what it means for you.
Nekros's voice, cold and metallic, sent a chill down Dark's spine. He clenched his fists, the rough ropes biting into his wrists as he struggled to maintain his composure.
Dark: (growling) You talk too much. Just tell me what the hell you're doing.
Nekros finally paused, his two glowing, menacing eyes slowly turning to meet Dark's gaze. His expression was unreadable beneath the armor, but his voice carried a sinister amusement.
Nekros: (mocking) So eager to know, aren't you? But that's the thing, Dark... you're not in control here. I am. And soon, you'll understand just how powerless you truly are.
He turned his attention back to the workbench, his fingers moving deftly over the intricate components of the eye patch, a masterpiece of futuristic and arcane technology. Every click, every hum of the devices felt like a countdown to something terrible. Dark's gut twisted in unease.
Nekros: (softly, almost to himself) This eye patch will change everything... the key to complete domination.
Dark's heart raced. Whatever Nekros was planning, it was clear that this wasn't just some ordinary device. His mind churned, trying to figure out how to stop him, how to get free before it was too late.
Dark: (defiant) You think that's going to save you? Whatever you're planning, I'll stop you. Even if I have to kill you where you stand.
Nekros chuckled darkly, the sound echoing through the room like metal grinding against stone.
Nekros: (mocking) Kill me? You're tied to a chair, helpless, and yet you think you still have the upper hand? How amusing.
He turned sharply, walking over to Dark, the eye patch held in his hand. Nekros's two glowing eyes bore down on him, filled with a chilling intensity.
Dark: (thinking) Alright... time to make my move.
Dark's face stayed calm, though inside his mind, plans were rapidly forming. He knew brute force wasn't the answer—Nekros was physically superior, and Gilmuar was the only one who could help. But Dark had something Nekros didn't expect: cleverness. His movements appeared restrained, but his mind raced, measuring the layout of the room, the exact positioning of his scythe, and the necessary distance to reach Gilmuar.
Nekros: (gloating) You see this? (Holding the eyepatch up to the light) It's not just any tool, human. This is your world's greatest relic. My lord will use it to tear through the fabric of this universe, and you'll be nothing but a footnote in the history of your failure.
Dark allowed himself to smirk. His hands, hidden behind his back, loosened from the bonds that Nekros had believed were secure.
Dark: (thinking) Three seconds is all I'll need.
Nekros's towering form shifted. Dark could hear the hum of the advanced technology buzzing from the armor. With a flick of his wrist, Nekros activated some internal mechanism, causing the scythe to hum with dark energy.
Nekros: (menacingly) Now, human, let's end this charade. I have no more time to waste.
As Nekros turned, Dark suddenly sprang up from his chair. In a swift, graceful motion, he slipped out of the ropes he had loosened while Nekros was distracted with his monologue. He didn't waste a moment—the moment Nekros noticed Dark's escape, he was already moving.
Dark: (yelling) Gilmuar! Now!
Before Nekros could react, Gilmuar emerged from the shadows of the room. His presence had been masked by his ability to cloak himself from technology, a move Dark had predicted would confuse the artificial intelligence housed within Nekros's armor. Gilmuar's form blurred as he moved, launching toward Nekros with incredible speed.
Nekros's eyes widened, caught off guard by the unexpected assault. His scythe whipped around, but Gilmuar was already too close, his fist smashing into Nekros's midsection, sending the armored figure stumbling back. The ground beneath them shook from the impact.
Dark: (gritting his teeth) Don't give him a chance to recover!
Gilmuar, knowing exactly what Dark meant, wasted no time. He raised his hands, manipulating the gravity in the room. Nekros, still regaining his balance, suddenly felt a tremendous force pulling him down. His knees buckled as he was driven into the ground, the weight crushing his metallic frame.
Nekros: (growling) Clever trick... but not enough.
Nekros growled, channeling his energy. With a roar, he managed to resist Gilmuar's gravity magic, forcing himself to his feet with immense effort. The ground cracked beneath him as he powered through the crushing weight.
Nekros: (snarling) Do you think this will stop me?
Dark wasn't waiting to see if Nekros would break free. He sprinted across the room, his hand reaching out to where Nekros had left his scythe dangling from the ceiling rafters. He jumped, his fingers curling around the handle, and with a powerful tug, he pulled it free.
Nekros: (glaring) What...!?
Dark: (smirking) Looks like you got careless.
With a mighty swing, Dark hurled the scythe toward Gilmuar, who caught it mid-air. The metallic clang of the weapon echoed through the room as Gilmuar expertly twirled it in his hands.
Dark: Gilmuar, let's finish him off!
But before they could land the final blow, Nekros's armor flared with energy. His two glowing eyes ignited with power as the eyepatch pulsed, and suddenly, he rose into the air, defying Gilmuar's gravitational pull.
Nekros: (laughing darkly) You fools... you think you can overpower me? I'm not even using half of my power!
With a burst of speed, Nekros shot through the air, slamming into Gilmuar with tremendous force. The impact sent Gilmuar crashing into the far wall, the force of it cracking the concrete and leaving a deep dent.
Dark: (shouting) Gilmuar!
Gilmuar coughed, blood splattering from his mouth as he struggled to stand. His body was battered, but he wasn't giving up. Not yet.
Gilmuar: (weakly) I'm fine... keep going... we can't let him win.
Dark's eyes burned with fury as he faced Nekros. The scythe was still in Gilmuar's hand, but the damage was evident. They didn't have much time left.
Nekros: (mocking) You can't win, Dark. Your friend is dying, and you're not far behind. You should've stayed in that chair. At least then you'd have died with some dignity.
Dark: (growling) I'm not done yet.
Summoning every ounce of energy he had left, Dark dashed forward, closing the distance between him and Nekros in an instant. His hand glowed with dark energy, and from the shadows themselves, a black katana materialized in his grip—the weapon gifted to him by Tracy, infused with the power of the shadows.
Dark: (snarling) Let's see if you can handle this!
With a mighty swing, Dark slashed at Nekros. The black katana met Nekros's armored scythe with a deafening clang. Sparks flew as the two weapons clashed, both warriors pushing against each other with everything they had.
Nekros: (grinning) Is that the best you've got?
But Dark wasn't finished. He ducked low, slipping under Nekros's guard, and swung his katana upward, slicing through the air toward Nekros's unprotected side. Nekros barely managed to block the strike, but Dark wasn't done. He spun around, his movements fluid and relentless, slashing again and again, forcing Nekros onto the defensive.
Nekros: (gritting his teeth) You're fast... but not fast enough!
With a powerful kick, Nekros knocked Dark back, sending him skidding across the ground. Dark groaned as he hit the wall, but he didn't stop. He pushed himself up, his body aching, his vision blurring, but he couldn't give up. Not yet.
Dark: (thinking) I need to end this... before Gilmuar—
Before he could finish the thought, Nekros moved again, this time faster than before. In the blink of an eye, he was across the room, grabbing Gilmuar by the throat.
Dark: (screaming) NO!
Nekros: (smiling wickedly) Say goodbye to your friend.
With a sickening crunch, Nekros slammed Gilmuar's body into the ground, the force of the impact leaving the ground cratered beneath him. Dark's breath caught in his throat as he saw the blood pour from Gilmuar's face, his friend's body lying broken and still.
Dark: (desperate) Gilmuar! GILMUAR!
Dark's rage exploded. His katana flared with energy as he launched himself at Nekros. He swung wildly, his attacks fueled by grief and fury, but Nekros dodged every strike, his laughter echoing through the room.
Nekros: (mocking) Is this all you have? How pathetic.
With a final strike, Nekros knocked Dark's katana aside and delivered a brutal punch to Dark's stomach, sending him flying across the room.
Dark: (coughing blood) Gilmuar...
Nekros: (smiling) And now... you're next.
But before Nekros could strike the killing blow, the air around them shifted. Nekros paused, his head snapping toward the ceiling as a strange energy filled the room.
Nekros: (smirking) Ah, it seems my work here is done.
Dark, still clutching his katana, looked up in confusion as Nekros's form began to shimmer with dark energy. The armored figure slowly floated upward, his body beginning to lift off the ground as if pulled by some unseen force.
Nekros: (mocking) Enjoy the time you have left, Dark. My lord will soon arrive, and when he does, this world will burn. You couldn't stop me... and you won't stop him.
With a final burst of power, Nekros shot through the roof, disappearing into the sky above. The sound of his laughter echoed through the broken building, growing fainter until it was swallowed by the wind.
Dark stared after him, his mind numb with grief. Nekros was gone. Gilmuar was dead. And there was nothing he could do to change any of it.
Dark: (whispering, broken) Gilmuar... no...
Tears blurred his vision, but the pain in his body was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. He crawled toward his friend's lifeless form, his hands trembling as he pulled Gilmuar's body close.
Dark: (sobbing) You can't die... not like this... not because of him.
His voice cracked under the weight of his despair. Gilmuar had been with him through so much, fought by his side, and now he was gone—ripped away in an instant.
Dark's fingers shook as they brushed over Gilmuar's face, bloodied and pale. His best friend, the one who had always fought alongside him, was no more. The loss was unbearable, the weight of failure crushing Dark's soul.
Dark: (screaming) DAMN YOU, NEKROS!
His voice echoed in the ruined building, the sheer force of his scream vibrating through the hollow structure. The grief, the helplessness—it all crashed into him like a wave, and he buried his face into Gilmuar's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
The cold wind swept through the shattered windows, carrying with it the remnants of battle. The air was thick with the smell of blood, metal, and dust, but Dark barely noticed. His world had shrunk to this one unbearable moment—holding the body of his best friend, feeling the bitter sting of loss tear him apart from the inside out.
He had been too weak. He hadn't been fast enough. He hadn't been strong enough.
Dark: (whispering, his voice hoarse) I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Gilmuar...
As the sorrow overwhelmed him, the shadows seemed to gather around Dark, wrapping him in a cocoon of darkness. His grip on Gilmuar tightened, as if holding on could somehow bring him back.
But no matter how tightly he held on, Gilmuar was gone.
End of chapter 3