Kael Varyn's first breath in this new world was painful and cold, and as it filled his lungs, it hurt. The morning air was sharp and fresh, with a hint of wet earth and old stone. It was grounding and strange. Through a mist that coiled around enormous black iron gates, he saw the pale light of a fading dawn when his eyes opened. The gates were covered in numerous runes that appeared to be alive. Runes are ancient symbols. Like the world breathing slowly, they glowed with a faint, otherworldly light that came and went.
Around him, dozens of other young people shifted nervously. They whispered hopes, fears, family legacies, and unspoken secrets—the kind that clung to whispers like shadows at their heels. He heard names dropped with reverence and dread, discussed as if reciting prayers or curses. The looming presence of the Eclipse Academy gate was more than an entrance. It was a crucible, a place where fates were forged or shattered, where the strongest would ascend and the weak would vanish into oblivion.
But Kael was different. He stood apart from the crowd, wrapped in a long, dark coat that swallowed much of his form. His dark eyes searched the faces around him with a cool, analytical detachment, taking in every detail—the tight grip of a friend's hand, the nervous tapping of a foot, the quick flash of a blade concealed at a belt. He did not belong to this world, this body, or this story. And yet, here he was.
He remembered his old life vividly—the loneliness, the decisions made in silence, the endless nights reading that damn novel, Eclipse of Destiny. How ironic it was now, to find himself trapped inside its pages, inhabiting the body of an extra—a background character doomed to pass unnoticed, his fate a mere footnote in someone else's grand design.
The thought would have been laughable if not for the metallic chime ringing softly in his mind, a jarring intrusion upon the stillness.
[System activated. Status Screen loading…]
Kael resisted the urge to allow the glowing interface to swallow him whole. Not now. Patience was key. Blending in, observing, gathering knowledge—these were his weapons for survival.
The gigantic iron gates groaned and swung wide, revealing the academy's sprawling interior: a landscape of polished stones mottled with creeping lichens, shaded courtyards framed by towering trees whose leaves whispered secrets in the breeze, and distant spires that vanished into the low-hung clouds. The architecture was a strange mixture of cold grandeur and forgotten sorrow, telling stories of glory, loss, and treachery carved in every weathered block.
Guardians in deep indigo robes emerged from shadowed archways, their eyes sharp and calculating. One by one, their voices echoed out names, somber as a death knell or bright as a promise. Kael remained quiet, letting others move, stumble, and answer their summons. He caught names of the powerful, the proud, the arrogant—and stored them away like a deck of cards waiting for the right moment.
When he heard his own name, "Kael Varyn," called out by a voice both authoritative and unfeeling, he stepped forward with deliberate calm. The gatekeeper, a stern woman with eyes like frozen obsidian, flicked through her scroll with a slight frown. "Fifth group," she said curtly. "South yard. Survival is your own responsibility."
No welcome. No mercy.
Beyond the gate, the courtyard was a labyrinth that seemed to breathe and shift. Whispered legends said that some of its paths were enchanted, that they led not where one intended but to their doom—or unexpected salvation. Kael felt no hesitation as he walked beneath the shadows of statues frozen in eternal vigil, their stone faces cracked and moss-covered, silent witnesses to countless generations of hopes and failures.
He paused near a knotted tree, its thick roots curling around shattered runes half-buried in soil, and allowed himself a slow breath. The academy was a crucible, yes, but it was also a battlefield. And he was a soldier born not of light or noble lineage, but of shadows and silence.
Drawing back his hood, Kael let the faintest flicker of a smile touch his lips as the system's display bloomed in front of him—visible only to his eyes.
[System: Status Screen]
Name: Kael Varyn
Title: Prince of Darkness (Hidden)
Level: 3 (Extra)
Race: Human (Unknown Affinity)
Void Bond: [Locked]
Strength: 12
Agility: 14
Endurance: 16
Intelligence: 18
Willpower: 22
Skills: Basic Swordsmanship (D), Stealth (C)
Traits: Cold Presence, Void's Favor (Hidden)
Notes: "You are an extra. The world will ignore you... unless you force it to notice."
The numbers were bland, almost insulting to a seasoned warrior—but Kael knew they only rated the obvious. His hidden bond to the void, unknown even to this system, pulsed quietly beneath the surface like a coiled serpent ready to strike.
Eyes narrowed with cold calculation, he watched groups forming alliances, hostile gazes exchanged, whispered rivalries blossom. Here, at the gathering place of power and ambition, fate itself was a currency traded in threats and alliances.
In another life, he might have felt the sharp sting of loneliness—for now, he savored it. Trust was a luxury Kael could not afford; his path was forged not by friendship or love, but by pragmatism, discipline, and an unyielding will.
The crowd parted as an instructor called the students to attention—a tall man clad in a flowing cloak embroidered with the symbol of the void, the academy's rarest and most dreaded element. His voice boomed, announcing the beginning of the Welcome Test: a trial by fire to determine who had the strength and cunning to survive—and who would be consumed by the cold, unyielding reality of the academy's unforgiving world.
Kael's heart remained steady, his fingers tightening around the hilt of a weightless blade concealed beneath his coat—a weapon no one expected the quiet extra to wield.
This was where the story was supposed to begin. Where heroes were tested, and legends born in flame.
But Kael was no hero—not in this world. He was the shadow beneath the throne, the whisper in the void. And he would reshape the story on his own terms.
And when the blades clashed, and the fate of many balanced on a knife's edge, they would all learn very soon that some shadows did not just fade—they devoured.