Just before Vladislav's body hit the ground, Lady Umbra darted forward with inhuman speed, catching him before he fell.
Her amethyst eyes flickered with alarm.
"I shouldn't have told him about the void yet. Damn it!" she hissed, her voice tight with panic.
She lowered him gently, resting his head upon her lap as though he were the most fragile thing in the world.
Her fingers skimmed across his arms, his chest, and his face, searching for wounds. For a moment, her heart clenched. But when she found no trace of injury—not on his body, nor on his soul—her shoulders eased and she let out a shaky breath.
"It seems he just exhausted all his mana. Even speaking three words to the void drained him completely."
Her lips trembled faintly as she whispered, "I didn't think he could actually do it..."
She looked down at his sleeping face, recalling the moment his eyes had shifted colors, reflecting forces beyond comprehension, and his voice had twisted into something ancient and alien.
Even she, Lady Umbra—who had walked through centuries of darkness—had felt a shiver of dread.
The void was not a power to be toyed with. It devoured the unworthy. One mistake, one misstep, and even the most gifted would be consumed.
Yet there he was—breathing evenly, chest rising and falling, sleeping as though nothing had happened.
"You almost scared me to death, little Vlad..."
Her hand brushed through his hair, soft and dark like silk, catching the faint gleam of moonlight.
That hair. Those eyes. They reminded her of someone long gone.
"You look just like him... your ancestor."
Old memories stirred, and her expression dimmed. For a fleeting moment, sorrow carved lines across her face, before she masked it with her usual calm.
"I think... if it's you, you might succeed. I believe you'll go further than he ever did..."
She fell into silence.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the moon shone pale and watchful above the red hill. Its light was eerie, bathing the landscape in an ominous glow.
"Whenever that hill turns red, it's never a good omen..." she muttered.
"Before, the tree and flowers would shift colors at random. But ever since a month ago... they became red—and stayed red. Red lilies always meant death."
She pushed the thought away, though unease lingered in her chest.
"I hope I'm wrong and—"
Her eyes lowered to Vladislav, asleep in her lap.
"I hope you don't get swallowed by the void... like your ancestor."
––
The night faded, and morning crept in.
In a darkened room, curtains drawn tight, a boy lay sleeping in silence.
The air was still. Too still.
Vladislav stirred under his sheets, his body twitching slightly as if caught in a dream.
Then, without warning, his eyes flew open.
Slowly, he rose from the bed, moving as though guided by invisible strings. He stepped into the center of the room and stopped.
His hair was a curtain of black against the gloom, but his eyes—no longer crimson—glowed with a cold, unnatural silver.
Wide open. Unblinking.
They stared into nothingness.
His lips parted, releasing guttural words in a strange, unknown tongue. The voice that emerged was not his own—it was older, darker, carrying an ancient weight.
The atmosphere shifted.
Darkness pooled in the corners of the room, heavy and suffocating. The temperature plummeted, each breath fogging faintly in the air.
Then—the door burst open.
Laura stepped inside, only to freeze.
Her body trembled as she was struck by the suffocating aura. The cold gnawed at her bones.
And then she saw him.
Vladislav stood in the middle of the room, blank-eyed, his voice foreign and twisted, shadows coiling faintly around his form.
The sight sent terror down her spine.
"Gods! What the hell, young master?! Don't just stand there like a creep!" she cried, her voice breaking the silence.
Her outburst shattered the trance.
Vladislav jolted awake. The oppressive darkness vanished. Warmth returned, filling the room as though nothing had happened.
His eyes closed, then reopened—back to their usual crimson glow. His expression softened into confusion.
He blinked, disoriented. "Huh? What? What am I doing out of bed?"
He glanced at his empty bed, then at himself standing in the center of the room.
Laura crossed her arms, still rattled. "How should I know? You were just standing there like a creep! Looked like you were sleepwalking or something."
Vladislav yawned, stretching his limbs as though nothing was wrong. "Me? Sleepwalking? Nah, I don't think so."
But his thoughts betrayed him.
He remembered last night: training with Lady Umbra, summoning the void to snuff out a candle. He had succeeded—but at the price of all his mana.
He must have collapsed. Lady Umbra probably carried him back here.
'I'll need to hold back until I can endure the backlash,' he thought grimly.
But then, another memory cut through him.
That voice. That twisted, ancient voice.
'What the hell was that? It wasn't the same voice I heard when awakening my lightning element. That one was empowering. This... this was warped. Like something vile was speaking through me. Creepy as hell... Definitely not a ghost, right?'
A shiver crawled down his spine. He made a note to ask Lady Umbra.
Meanwhile, Laura's eyes weren't on his face. They were fixed on his back.
Her breath caught.
"Young master... since when did you have a tattoo on your back?!"
"A tattoo? What are you talking about, Laura?"
"There's one right there! On your back!"
He frowned. "You're seeing things. It's too dark."
He pulled the curtains open. Sunlight flooded the room.
Laura's eyes widened. Her heart skipped a beat.
The mark was gone.
The strange, beast-like tattoo with unreadable words beneath it had simply vanished, as if it had never existed.
"Am I... am I losing my mind?" she whispered.
Vladislav turned, smirking. "See? Nothing there. I guess my Laura is just getting old."
Laura twitched. Then—SMACK!
"Ow! Damn it, Laura! That hurt! You didn't have to hit me so hard!" Vladislav groaned, rubbing the red imprint on his back.
"Hmph! You deserved it! Calling me old when I'm only sixteen!" she snapped.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," he muttered, still wincing.
"Tch... now my back's red too," he grumbled.
He smirked at her. "You know, people do get crankier when they start getting ol—"
One sharp glare from her silenced him instantly.
"Fine, fine, I'm really sorry," he conceded, raising his hands.
"Hmph. Don't talk to me," she said, turning away with a pout, arms crossed.
Vladislav chuckled softly.
She was pretending to be angry, but he knew her too well.
He leaned forward, adopting a dramatic pose. "Oh, fairest maid of this estate, your beauty shines brighter than the stars. Surely, one such as I is unworthy of your grace."
Laura's expression cracked, though she tried to keep her composure.
He pressed on. "Your beauty is divine, radiating a holy aura. Please, forgive this foolish young master."
He bowed theatrically.
Laura's lips quivered, and then she broke. Giggles spilled out.
"Hehe... okay, fine. I forgive you."
Vladislav grinned, clicking his tongue.
'What a troublesome maid,' he thought with amusement.
"Now go wash up for breakfast, young master," Laura said, still smiling faintly.
"Yeah, I will," Vladislav replied.
He slipped into the shower while Laura tidied up his room, her mind still lingering on the strange mark she swore she had seen.