The room lies in silence, drowned in shadow. Not a flicker of light touches the stone walls, only the steady breath of stillness.
At the center, Kael sits, legs crossed, eyes closed, his presence swallowed by the black.
Around him, darkness takes form. Long, sinuous tendrils coil and uncoil, swaying lazily as if alive. They circle him in slow arcs, brushing against his shoulders, his arms, the curve of his face—not with malice, but with a strange, unsettling intimacy.
To anyone else, it is a nightmare made flesh, a sight to freeze the blood. But to Kael, it is peace.
The darkness do not frighten him. They soothe him. Each touch of those cold, whispering strands feels like an embrace, a quiet reassurance that he belongs here—in the dark, in this stillness, where nothing else matters.
His lips curve faintly, almost imperceptibly.
He is at ease. He is content. He enjoys the company of the very thing others fear.
He is one with the darkness.
---
I open my eyes and watch the dark tendrils coil around me.
They move with a lazy grace, looping and brushing my skin as if asking me to play.
At first, they creep me out. The sight would freeze any normal person. But now—now I can feel them. Not with touch, but with something deeper. They speak in feeling.
They have emotion.
The feeling that wells up from the darkness is not simple. It tastes of despair, of obsession, of a craving that can never be satisfied. It is a hunger folded into stillness—a pull that draws and never fills.
Noctharion already warned me. He told me the darkness change a person's desires, that they twist longing until it explodes inward, fierce and corrosive. He said darkness will bend your feelings, make small wants into ravenous needs.
Even so, the tendrils curl closer, patient and hungry. They do not threaten. They invite. And for the first time in a long while, something in me answers back.
"Your growth is fast, Kael, but there is something you are missing," Noctharion says.
"What am I missing?" I ask, looking at him.
"Experience, Kael." Noctharion's eyes narrow on the dark tendrils wrapped around me.
"No matter how much you practice, you will never feel the true essence until you use it in real battle," he continues.
"So you mean I should start using darkness in my spars with the commander?"
"That would help, but it will not be enough," Noctharion replies. "What you need is a real fight—a battle with your life on the line. You will never push yourself to the limit until you face death every day. Only by pushing yourself to the edge, by tasting life-and-death struggle, can you gain the experience that draws you closer to darkness."
He leans forward, the shadows humming low.
"You can feel it, Kael. That insatiable hunger—the pull to devour, to take everything. It grows the more you feed it. To control it, you must first let it find you. You must drown in it. Only by tasting it can you learn to resist it."
"So you're saying I need real-life experience to reach the next level of my mastery?" I ask.
"Yes. That is it," Noctharion nods.
I exhale slowly. Three months remain of my punishment. After that, I will be free for a year and a half before the academy begins.
At first, I thought of staying here in the fortress, training alone, sharpening myself in secret until I return to the main house.
But Noctharion's words cut through that plan. Real experience. A battlefield where hesitation means death. I already know the perfect place.
"I know what to do," I say, meeting his burning gaze. "When my punishment ends, I will head into the Dark Forest. That is the only place where I can get the kind of experience I need."
"Yes… that is a good start," Noctharion rumbles, a faint curl of satisfaction in his voice. "By fighting monsters, you will learn what no amount of training can teach."
I nod. Three months. Then I will leave this fortress and walk into the most dangerous place in the world. The Dark Forest devours the careless and the weak, but compared to the shadow looming over my future… even that cursed land seems small.
If I want strength, there is no other choice.
With that thought burning in my mind, I rise from the floor, cross the silent room, and lie down. My eyes close, but sleep does not come easily. Plans churn. Paths unfold. Every one of them leads to blood, danger, and death.
And still—I will walk them.
---
I wake with the taste of sleep still in my mouth and head straight for the mess hall to eat.
The hall is noisy with morning voices and clanking trays. Just earlier, Commander calls me and says our spars will decrease for a while—he's busier with fortress duties.
It makes sense. He is the commander; his time belongs to the fortress first. Still, he always finds time for me when he can. If he's busy, I train on my own. He'll come when he's free. If not, I'm alone.
"Good morning, Kael." A cheery voice comes from behind me.
"Morning." I turn and see Mia standing there with a tray of food.
She slides into the seat opposite me, just as she always does when she can spare the time.
We eat in comfortable silence at first. I watch her between bites—her face, the familiar tilt of her smile, the way she moves. She bears an uncanny resemblance to her mother. Her figure is the right kind of soft and strong at the same time.
Mia, who is training under her mother to become a cook for the fortress, isn't awakened. Her parents are both normal humans, and so is she.
People assume awakening follows blood, but it doesn't. Anyone can awaken; there are no guarantees. Some with no awakened lineage receive power, and some born to awakened parents never awaken at all.
The world is inconsistent like that—random and cruel.
Mia laughs at something small I say, bright and careless, and for a moment the mess hall feels less heavy. The moment is small, but it matters.
During our talk, Mia glances around the hall. Then she leans closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.
"Is it just me… or does the atmosphere feel tense today?"
I frown and follow her gaze.
She's right. The air is different. The knights aren't laughing and shouting like usual. Instead, they eat quietly, trading low whispers with grim expressions, as if something heavy is pressing down on them.
It feels… wrong.
I remember what Commander told me earlier. I accepted it at the time, but now, seeing the knights like this… no. It can't be a coincidence. Something is happening.
My eyes narrow as I think it through. If both the commander and the knights are on edge, then the problem must lie outside these walls. Most likely… the Dark Forest.
"Hey, why are you getting all serious?" Mia asks suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. She tilts her head at me. "Do you know something?"
"No," I shake my head. "I don't know. But I'll find out."
"Then I'll try too," she says with a small nod. Gathering her empty tray, she offers me a quick smile. "Goodbye, Kael."
Then she slips away.
I sit in silence for a moment, turning her words over in my mind. The unease clings to me like a shadow.
"…Now then. Should I start collecting information?" I mutter under my breath as I stand, heading toward the training ground.
---
Training with the knights leaves my muscles burning, but my breath remains steady. I look around the field, watching the others collapse to their knees or wipe sweat from their brows.
A faint smile tugs at my lips.
At first, I couldn't even compare to them. I was always a step behind, always struggling to keep up. But now… I move in perfect rhythm with them. My body doesn't falter, my stance doesn't waver.
In composure alone, I stand above them.
The endless drills with the Commander have honed me sharper than steel. My traits carry me further still—beyond the limits of my supposed rank. Compared to those of equal rank, I have already surpassed them. Even among those above me… I can hold my ground.
Pride stirs in my chest.
When training ends, I make my way across the yard, my eyes locking onto a familiar figure—Daren.
He was the first knight I sparred with after arriving here. Back then, he was only C– rank. Now he has grown, reaching a solid C. His swordsmanship has improved; his movements carry more weight.
I once defeated him through technique alone, but if we fight now with all our strength… there's a chance he could push me back.
The thought crosses my mind for an instant—
"Don't belittle yourself, Kael," Noctharion's voice rumbles in the depths of my mind. "To even entertain the idea that someone like him could defeat you—that is weakness itself."
My jaw tightens. "And how many times have I told you not to read my thoughts?"
"I cannot read everything," Noctharion replies smoothly. "Only the things you allow, even if unconsciously. But heed my words. In front of absolute strength, no amount of effort, struggle, sweat, or sacrifice matters. Only power does. Those who cannot attain it… are nothing but ants beneath your feet."
His words leave a chill in my chest.
I shake my head slowly, unwilling to accept his philosophy so easily. These knights are not ants. They are men and women clawing for survival with everything they have.
Even so… a part of me can't deny the truth laced within his cruelty.
I push the thought away and walk toward Daren.
"Hey, you three still alive?" I call out, stepping closer.
Daren, John, and Nicholas stand there drenched in sweat, bent over their knees, gasping for air.
"Barely," John mutters, trying to steady his breath. The other two only manage a weak nod.
Then John glances up at me, scowling. "And look at you. You don't even look like you trained with us. We're dying here, and you're standing there fresh as ever."
"Seems like training with the Commander really made you strong," Daren adds, his tone half-admiring, half-grudging.
John waves his hand. "So what's the secret? How does he even train you? Maybe you could tell us—or better, ask the Commander to train us too."
I smirk. "Sure. If you're fine with having your bones broken every few minutes, healed, then broken again. All day. Every day. Until you pass out, only to wake up and do it all over again—for six months straight."
John's face pales instantly. "...No thanks. I'm good with this training."
Daren and Nicholas burst into laughter, and I can't help but join them. For a moment, the air feels lighter.
But I haven't come here just to chat.
"So," I say, my voice lowering slightly, "do any of you know what's happening around here lately?"
John blinks. "H-Happening?" He quickly looks away. The other two suddenly find the ground very interesting, whistling under their breath as if that will hide their discomfort.
The mess hall comes back to mind—the silent tables, the tense eyes, the Commander's sudden busyness. This isn't nothing.
"Come on," I press. "The atmosphere's tense. In the mess hall, the knights looked more like constipated statues than soldiers. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
Daren lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his damp hair. "...It's not exactly a secret anymore. But we've been told not to talk about it openly."
"So there is something going on." My eyes narrow. "What is it?"