Darkness was in high spirits, surrounded by a circle of young noble ladies, their laughter and curiosity painting the air in warm tones. She listened to their stories with genuine interest, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. She enjoyed learning about their lives, their worries, and their little joys. For someone who had walked countless centuries in shadow, these simple human exchanges felt strangely refreshing.
"Lady Darkness, can I ask a question?" one young noble lady inquired shyly.
"Yes, you may ask—but only if you call me Darkness," she replied with a broad, almost teasing smile.
The group giggled softly, some exchanging glances. Darkness was like a prince in the middle of his harem; every girl wanted to be close to her, leaning in, brushing shoulders, and offering charming smiles. She didn't mind—it was, to her, nothing more than a game of entertainment.
'Wow… such young children trying to get close to me. I haven't felt this happy in a long time,' she thought, a hint of warmth flickering through her mind.
To her, they were all simply naive children—adorable, harmless, and almost too pure for her world.
"Yes, Lady Darkness," the girl responded, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
"So, what do you want to ask?" Darkness prompted gently.
"You were really called Darkness the Wise?" the girl asked, hesitating.
Darkness paused for a heartbeat, then smiled softly. "Yes. I always speak words of wisdom. However, your life is yours, and words are only words—they cannot always express or solve your situation. You must understand your own reality and act accordingly."
Her answer stirred quiet awe among the young ladies, and the one who had asked looked almost dazed.
"Ah, Lady Darkness, I have a… lovely problem," another girl chimed in playfully.
Darkness's eyes sparkled with amusement. "So, what is it? Tell me—after all, we are all friends here, young lady," she said in a charming tone.
The atmosphere shifted into one of casual friendship, where titles and status melted away like snow in the sun.
"Well…" the girl began, drawing the attention of everyone nearby, "there are two boys who like me. But I want someone who truly loves me. How can I find him?"
Darkness's expression changed slightly, becoming thoughtful. "Young lady… let us first change the question: what is love, what is like, and what is true love?"
Her words drew everyone's full attention.
"You should be aware of your reality," she began in her soft, melodic voice, "because blindly chasing love—or anything—will only hurt you."
Everyone leaned in, listening intently.
"When you want to be with someone because you like parts of them—their good nature, their heroic deeds, their achievements—that is attraction or liking, not love.
When you accept someone with all their strengths and flaws, when you protect them and are willing to sacrifice for them, then it is called love. This kind of love is rare.
But when you accept someone no matter their flaws, and you sacrifice everything for them—even yourself—that is something deeper. However, such sacrifice can also be driven by other emotions, and it may not always be love."
Silence followed, the weight of her words sinking in.
"It seems finding love is difficult," the girl murmured.
"Yes," Darkness replied, "love itself is not rare. But finding real love, and protecting it, is difficult—therefore it becomes rare. So instead, choose a good man who will be loyal to you and respect you."
"Yes, Darkness," the girl said quietly.
Soon, others joined in, each with their own questions.
At first, Darkness enjoyed answering them, savoring the lively chatter. But as time passed, she felt her patience thinning.
'Wow… these young ladies talk too much,' she mused silently.
They asked everything from practical questions to wildly imaginary scenarios, many having no connection to reality—simply for the fun of it. The air was filled with joy and laughter, until—
Darkness suddenly felt it.
A wave of desperation.
A force pressing on her—not directly, but in a way far more personal.
'Who dares attack me?' she thought sharply.
Her attention snapped to the source, and she realized with cold clarity: someone had attacked her shadow.
"You dare…" she whispered aloud.
Her aura flared—anger pouring out like a storm, washing over the hall. The weight of it crushed against every heart in the room; nobles and servants alike trembled in fear. She saw them falter, so she quickly restrained her power before it harmed them further.
Then, without another word, she vanished—teleporting away and leaving everyone in shock and fear.
The atmosphere in the great hall shifted instantly, heavy and electric, as the Voice of Darkness had rolled through—a deep, commanding presence impossible to ignore. The pressure it carried had pressed upon every soul, yet Darkness herself was untouched.
She felt it again—the intrusion, the strike—not against her body, but against the shadow she had created to guard this place. The blow wounded it, and with it came a slow, cold fury.
'They dared… they dared to harm what is mine.'
In another lifetime, she had been known as Pride. It was not just a name—it was her nature, her unshakable core. Hurting what belonged to her was an unforgivable act.
And so, from the heart of Darkness, Pride rose—not as a memory, but as a living, breathing force. The edges of the hall seemed to dim, every shadow deepened in warning.
This was no longer the quiet, unseen Darkness.
This was Pride—awakened.