Magnus Caldryn limped into his chambers at the Caldryn estate, the weight of the dockside battle still heavy on his body. His thigh throbbed from the crossbow wound, barely healed despite the healing elixir's work, and his dantian flickered weakly, a spent ember after the chaos of blades and blood. His twin shadow sabers, rested against the wall, their dark aura dim but restless. The sealed scroll from the Gilded Ledger's raid, marked with the Valisar kingdom's insignia, burned in his mind a map to the capital's criminal undercity, where answers and enemies awaited.
He removed his tunic, wincing as the movement tugged at his wound, and sat cross-legged on the floor. The time had come for the second awakening of his shadow qi, to push his dantian to Level 2. Closing his crimson eyes, he began the Shadow Flower Breathing, each slow inhale drawing the room's shadows closer, wrapping him in a cool, dark embrace. Minutes passed, and he slipped into a trance, his consciousness plunging into his inner world.
In that ethereal realm, Magnus stood before a vast, shadowy void. At its center lay his shadow self a spectral figure, curled like a sleeping babe, its form woven of liquid darkness. He stepped forward, drawn to touch it, but the shadows surged, coiling around him like living chains. "Leave! Leave! Ahhh!" he shouted, struggling against their grip, his voice echoing in the void. The shadow figure stirred, its eyes opening crimson, like his own and a massive, indistinct silhouette loomed behind it, its presence oppressive, almost sentient. Magnus's heart raced, but he pushed through, his will forged by the Shadow's Hand.
With a final gasp, he snapped his eyes open, back in his chambers. His body thrummed with newfound power, his dantian pulsing stronger, now at Level 2 Shadow. He rose slowly, checking his hands, flexing his fingers. "Nice," he murmured, feeling the shadow qi coursing through him, sharper and deeper than before. "But what was that big shadowy figure?" The question lingered, unsettling, but he pushed it aside. His thigh wound was barely healed, the skin tender, and his body reeked of sweat and impurities purged by the awakening. "I need a bath," he muttered, grimacing.
"Hera!" he called. The maid appeared, her doe-like eyes widening before she pinched her nose. "Oh, young master, you smell awful!"
Magnus chuckled despite himself. "Prepare a bath, Hera. And hurry."
Hera nodded, still covering her nose, and scurried off. The hot water soothed his aches, the wound's throb dulling as he scrubbed away the grime. Dressed in a clean tunic, he limped to his father's study, knocking lightly. "Can I come in, Father?"
"Yes," came Everard's gruff voice.
After Magnus close his door
In a far city, Valisar's undercity pulsed with shadows and sin. The woman with the quill ring Lyra burst into a dimly lit chamber, her dark curls disheveled, her eyes wide with panic. "Boss, our plans are failing!" she gasped, bowing before a figure seated in a high-backed chair.
The man rose, his scarred left eye glinting in the torchlight, his bulky frame clad in a dark jacket and pants. Metal knuckles gleamed on his hands, and his fists seemed to smolder with a faint, fiery aura. Boss Hardard, the Fury, turned to face her, his voice a low rumble. "What happened, Lyra?"
"The Gilded Ledger's exposed," she said, trembling. "The docks our mercenaries, our agents, raided by that drunken noble, Magnus Caldryn. We thought he was weak, but that bastard's strong, with an ominous aura. He killed our men, took our scroll. He'll come for us next."
Hardard's scarred face twisted into a snarl, his burning hands clenching. "Let him come. He'll see my fury." His metal knuckles gleamed, a promise of violence.
Over the next few days, Magnus's thigh healed fully, the elixir and his Level 2 Shadow Dantian speeding his recovery. He trained relentlessly in the estate's garden, push-ups and sword drills sharpening his body, shadow qi flowing smoother with each Shadow Flower Breathing session. His muscles grew tauter, his aura darker, honed under General Luke's guidance, a grizzled veteran Everard had assigned to spar with him.
On the morning of departure, Magnus sought his parents in the great hall. Anna rose from her chair, her hazel eyes brimming with tears. "My child," she said, hugging him tightly, her lavender scent enveloping him. "Please take care. Eat, sleep properly."
Alex Laurus had never known such affection, but Magnus felt it warm his chest. He held her hand, his crimson eyes softening. "Mother, I'm your son. Believe in me."
Everard stood, his obsidian eyes assessing Magnus's slightly bulkier frame. "You've gotten stronger, Magnus. Bulkier, too. Nice work with General Luke—I can feel your aura from here. Now go, son. Kill those bastards and bring their heads. Don't shame our house."
Magnus raised his head high, hand on his sabers. "Yes, Father. I'll bring no shame upon our family. Give me your blessings."
Anna pressed a hand to his cheek, tears falling. Everard nodded solemnly. "Go, Magnus. Make them pay."
With burning crimson eyes, Magnus left the hall, finding Rhea at the stables, her horse saddled beside his black stallion. "Rhea, let's go," he said, mounting with a fluid grace despite the lingering ache.
She grinned, her grey eyes alight. "Time to make Valisar bleed."
They galloped from Caldera, the wind whipping their cloaks as the city faded behind them. Valisar lay two days ahead, its criminal hub and shadowy kingdom waiting, Mgnus Caldryn was ready to carve answers from the undercity's heart, and Boss Hardard's fury would meet its match.
To be continued in Chapter 10…