The violet light in Matthew's eyes didn't just fade; it collapsed, leaving a hollow, aching cold in his chest that felt like a physical wound. As he slumped to his knees beside the bleeding Captain Allen, the remaining Shadow-Stalkers recovered from the shock of the blast. They hissed, their smoky forms elongating as they prepared to finish what they had started.
The three-eyed brute was gone, but the others were hungry. One lunged, its obsidian claws inches from Matthew's exposed neck.
Then, the world stopped.
It wasn't just a metaphor for fear. The wind died. The flickering mana-lamps frozen mid-flicker. Even the falling droplets of Allen's blood stayed suspended in the air like rubies caught in amber.
From the archway of the Inner Citadel, a man walked toward them. He moved with a leisurely, terrifying grace, his footsteps echoing against the silence of the frozen world. He wore robes of deep navy silk embroidered with silver constellations that seemed to shift and spin as he moved. His hair was as white as the marble beneath his feet, though his face held the sharp, unyielding vigor of a man in his prime.
This was Dean Alexander II, the Master of the Royal Academy and the man rumored to be the strongest mage in the southern hemisphere.
He didn't look at the monsters. He looked at Matthew.
"A Null-type resonance," the Dean mused, his voice smooth and resonant, like a cello. "In a child of Oakhaven. How very... inconvenient."
He snapped his fingers.
The silence broke, but not for the monsters. A pillar of pure, white radiance descended from the heavens, incinerating the remaining Shadow-Stalkers instantly. There was no struggle, no scream. They simply ceased to exist, turned to fine white ash that was immediately carried away by a sudden, gentle breeze.
"Captain Allen," Alexander said, finally looking down at the wounded man. "You were tasked with bringing me a survivor, not a corpse. You've been sloppy."
"Dean..." Allen gasped, his hand clutching his shattered shoulder. "The boy... he didn't just survive. He awakened. Right here."
Alexander knelt, his robes pooling around him. He placed a cool, slim hand on Matthew's forehead. Matthew tried to flinch away, but he found his muscles wouldn't obey. The Dean's eyes were a pale, piercing blue—the color of ice on a deep lake.
"He didn't just awaken, Allen," the Dean whispered. "He consumed. Look at the ground."
Matthew looked. Around him, the marble had been bleached white, and the iron training dagger was now a brittle, translucent husk. Everything within five feet of him had been drained of its natural mana.
"He's a Void, Dean," Allen whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of hope and dread. "Like the legends of the Old Wars."
"Quiet," Alexander commanded. He stood up and signaled to the Sun-Guards who were finally rushing into the courtyard. "Take the Captain to the High Healers. As for the boy... do not take him to the dormitories. Bring him to the Obsidian Spire. He is to be under my personal supervision until the Council decides what to do with a creature that eats the atmosphere."
Hours later, Matthew found himself in a room that felt more like a library than a prison, though the doors were locked from the outside. The walls were lined with books that smelled of old parchment and herbs. A large window looked out over the Citadel, showing the sprawling city beneath the moon.
The door opened, and Alexander stepped in. He carried a tray with a bowl of broth and a piece of bread. He set it on the table and sat across from Matthew.
"Eat," the Dean said. "Your core is empty. If you don't provide it with calories, it will start to eat your muscle tissue."
Matthew didn't hesitate. He fell upon the food, realizing for the first time that his stomach felt like a pit of acid. Between bites, he looked up at the man. "Where is Emily?"
"Your sister is safe. She is being cared for by the Sisters of the Silver Lily. She has been told you are beginning your 'specialized training.' It is best she believes you are a hero in the making, rather than a biological anomaly."
Matthew stopped chewing. "What did I do down there? Why are you looking at me like I'm a monster?"
"Because to the laws of magic, you are," Alexander replied calmly. "Every living being is a vessel for mana. We breathe it in, we store it, we manifest it. But you... you are a hole in the world, Matthew. You don't store mana. You negate it. And when you awakened, you didn't pulse energy outward; you collapsed the energy inward."
"I saved the Captain," Matthew argued, his voice cracking.
"You did. And in doing so, you signaled every high-tier entity within a hundred miles that a Null Core has appeared. Those Shadow-Stalkers weren't a random scouting party. They were sent by something that felt your 'hunger' the moment it sparked."
Alexander leaned forward, his blue eyes narrowing. "Tomorrow, you will be tested. Not by me, but by the Academy's faculty. If you can control that void, you will be the Academy's greatest weapon. If you cannot... I will have to kill you myself to protect the mana-veins of this kingdom."
Matthew looked at the empty bowl. The grief of Oakhaven was still there, a heavy stone in his gut, but it was being eclipsed by a new, colder reality. He wasn't just a orphan. He was a threat.
"I won't let you kill me," Matthew said, his voice low and steady. "I have to protect my sister. My father died so I could live. I'm not wasting that."
Alexander smiled—a small, sharp thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Spoken like a true Knight. We shall see if your core agrees with your heart."