The unknown man moved like a shadow in the heart of the eternal night, his steps silent, his breathing calm. The monsters surged toward him from all directions, their twisted silhouettes merging with the darkness.
One of them leaped at him with gaping jaws, but the man bent backward with fluid grace, letting the creature's teeth cut nothing but air. In the same movement, he twisted his body and let the momentum carry him into a spin, his blade flashing in the blackness.
The steel sang as it sliced through the air, striking down two monsters that had dared to approach too closely. Yet his expression remained cold, almost detached, as if each strike was nothing but a practiced gesture.
The beasts tried to overwhelm him with numbers, but his movements were pure elegance — no wasted effort, no hesitation. Every dodge was like a dance step, every counterattack an art form. Even the darkness seemed to hold its breath, captivated by his deadly choreography.
The monsters fell one by one, their forms dissolving into shadow like ashes carried away by the wind. Yet the Night did not recede. It stretched. It watched.
The unknown man felt something shift.
It wasn't fatigue.
It was… pressure.
The ground beneath his feet trembled faintly, as if the world itself held its breath. The shadows stopped moving randomly. They froze. Then, slowly, they parted.
A clear, empty circle formed around him.
No monster attacked anymore.
The Eternal Night had recognized his presence.
A voice echoed, not in the air… but directly in his mind.
— You still dance like a man.
The man did not answer. He slowly straightened his body, his blade still lowered, his gaze hidden beneath the hood.
— But this night was not made for men, the voice continued.
— It breaks, it erases, it swallows names.
A shiver ran through the space. Before him, the darkness coalesced, taking an unstable form — neither fully monstrous, nor human. A tall silhouette, deformed, as if sculpted from the night itself.
— Tell me, whispered the voice, closer now.
— Why do you refuse to fall?
The man stepped forward.
— Because falling… would be too easy.
A heavy silence followed. Then, for the first time, the Night seemed to… smile.
The shadows surged again, but this time, they no longer formed beasts. They wrapped around the man's arms, legs, and torso. Not to attack him.
To test him.
Pain exploded through his body. His muscles screamed. His breathing broke for a moment. The invisible chains of the Night tried to pierce his mind, to probe his memories, fears, regrets.
Images emerged.
A past he had sworn to forget.
A name he no longer spoke.
An order given… never questioned.
His teeth clenched.
— Let go, murmured the Night.
— Abandon what you were. Become what I can make of you.
Then, something snapped.
Not in his body.
In his will.
The man inhaled deeply… and stopped resisting.
The shadows halted abruptly.
He lifted his head. Slowly. Calmly.
— You are wrong, he said in a low voice.
— I abandon nothing.
His blade vibrated. A faint glimmer — almost imperceptible — ran along its edge. It was neither light nor darkness.
It was a choice.
With a gesture of absolute precision, he sliced through the shadowy bonds that bound him. The darkness recoiled violently, as if wounded.
The Night's silhouette warped.
— Interesting…
— You refuse to be erased.
The man slowly turned, resuming his dancer's posture.
— I did not come to be erased.
— I came to learn.
A deep, dull beat echoed in the red sky. The moon seemed to pulse.
Far away, somewhere between worlds…
Léon shivered for no apparent reason.
Jason felt time contract for a fraction of a second.
And Tailer… smiled without knowing why.
The Eternal Night had made its choice.
And the unknown man… had crossed a threshold from which he could never return.
The waltz was over.
The transformation, however, had only just begun.
Silence fell for a moment, heavy, almost sacred. The red glow of the moon still bathed the frozen landscape, but the air now vibrated with a new tension.
The unknown man remained motionless, breathing calmly, observing the shadows that surrounded him. Then, slowly, a voice arose, deep, resonating not in the air… but directly within his mind.
— You survived mine, but survival is only one test among many.
The breath of the Eternal Night seemed to condense around him, as if the air itself had become solid. Dark silhouettes, made of shadow and void, gathered to form an entity even larger than all those he had faced before.
— Listen, man, continued the voice, I am neither your enemy nor your ally. I am the echo of what you refuse to accept.
A shiver ran through the unknown man. The shadows anchored themselves to the ground like roots, and each seemed to grasp his will, probing his memories, regrets, and fears.
— To move forward, the voice said, you must understand this: strength is not born from hatred or rage. It is born from understanding what you refuse to lose.
The man closed his eyes for a moment. Images flooded his mind: forgotten faces, sacrificed lives, broken promises. Each memory was a chain that the Night tried to weigh upon him.
But this time, he did not retreat. He accepted the pain, the failures, the losses. He let them pass through him, like wind flowing through a valley.
— Good, murmured the voice, closer now, more intense.
— You are beginning to understand. But it is not yet enough.
Spears of shadow shot up around him, striking where he stood. The man moved with perfect fluidity, dodging each strike, each blade, each invisible claw. Every movement was precise, but this time, he did not merely survive: he danced with the Night, anticipating its motions, letting fear slip off his shoulders like water.
— Observe, said the voice, the Night is not an enemy to defeat. It is a mirror. What you see in me… is not what I am. It is what you become if you refuse to accept your power.
A strange light coursed through the man, a gleam between shadow and light. His eyes, under the hood, shone with a new intensity. The Night receded slightly, as if shaken by this inner force.
— Now, concluded the voice, learn from me. Let me show you that fear is only a passage. True power is born from one who understands their own essence.
Then, the black silhouette of the Night stretched, shifted shape, and began to show the unknown man what no blade or fight could ever teach him: patience, mastery, control of mind before body.
The waltz of the Eternal Night had reached a new threshold. The man, until now a mere survivor, would now understand that true power is not in killing, but in transcending what tries to devour you.
And in that red, icy, infinite silence, a new chapter of his transformation opened.
Silence fell again, heavy and almost sacred, but this time it did not weigh on him like a threat. He breathed calmly, eyes closed beneath his hood, letting every sensation flow through his body. The Eternal Night, immense and icy, seemed to envelop him, but he no longer felt fear. He felt… understanding.
As he accepted every memory, every loss, every pain, a strange light began to form in his hands. Not a physical light, but pure, vibrant energy, which seemed to merge with the shadows around him.
He opened his eyes. The world was no longer entirely black: the monsters' silhouettes now stood out in a gradient of red and gray, and every movement of the Night spoke to him, showed him a rhythm, a dance to follow.
He then understood what the invisible voice wanted to teach him: the Night was not his enemy. It was a mirror of his fears and limits. As long as he refused to face them, it would be invincible. But by accepting, by opening himself to his own essence… he could use it.
The first change struck his senses: his reflexes became faster than a heartbeat, his eyes captured the slightest flicker of shadow, and every breath of wind carried information about the movement of his attackers.
A new power manifested: the mastery of shadows. Wherever he touched, light and darkness seemed to merge, and he could bend the dark matter around him to create blades, barriers, or spikes of shadowed crystal. It was not magic: it was his body learning to dance with the energy of the Night.
He took a step forward, and the ground, previously icy and still, vibrated under his power. The monsters leapt, but this time, he no longer just dodged: he directed the dance. A twist of the wrist, and a shadow blade shot up from the ground, cutting down two creatures at once. A simple movement of his foot, and the gravity around a monster shifted, flinging it backward like a puppet with broken strings.
The red moon seemed to react to his energy, illuminating his movements with a supernatural glow. He was no longer fighting just to survive: he controlled the battlefield, each strike, each dodge, each breath becoming an extension of his being.
He closed his eyes for a moment and felt something he had never felt before: the connection with the Night itself. The shadows were no longer enemies but partners in an eternal dance. They vibrated to his rhythm, and with each pulse, they transmitted their strength to him.
The voice resonated one last time, gentle this time:
— Now you understand. Strength is not in the clash of weapons, but in the symphony of your mind. He who masters the Night fears nothing.
The icy wind calmed, and the monsters vanished in a puff of black smoke. The man stood upright, motionless, but his eyes shone with a new light: the Night had forged in him a warrior beyond all fear, a master of shadows and of his own destiny.
And in the distance, in the darkness, something watched this change. A silhouette, larger than any other, knew that the real confrontation had only just begun…