The training grounds of the Night Nail Guild lay steeped in silence. Children circled the vast stone arena, their wide eyes fixed on the newcomer—Liven.
Coach Harven, stern and broad-shouldered, raised his hand.
"Today, we will witness Liven's strength. The rules are simple: the last one standing claims victory."
At his side, Seria inclined her head, her voice carrying a sharper weight.
"This first trial cuts deeper than steel, Liven. Show us not only your strength, but the intent within your heart."
From the ranks stepped his challenger—Rayn, among the guild's fiercest students. Scars marred his face, his frame honed by countless battles. He drew his blade with disdainful eyes fixed on Liven, as if the outcome had already been decided.
The duel began.
Rayn struck first—swift, merciless. Liven barely managed to grip his weapon before steel cracked against him. Another blow followed, then another. Blood slicked his hands, his face pressed to the dust. Around him, the children held their breath.
And then, a voice rose within him—the whisper of the demon.
> "Liven… what are you doing? You were not born of the curse—the curse chose you. In this world, there is no balance. Power alone decides. Rule, or be ruled."
His vision blurred. His chest burned. Then his left eye ignited crimson, a sinister glow piercing the air. Shadows unfurled like smoke across the arena, and with them came a suffocating weight—cold, relentless, pressing upon every soul that dared to watch.
Rayn faltered. His breath hitched as sweat traced down his cheek. The sword in his hands trembled.
> "I… I cannot fight this aura. I yield!"
The silence that followed was heavier than any shout. Harven's eyes widened in disbelief. Seria's lips curved into something between awe and dread. The gathered students shrank back, fear shimmering in their gaze.
"This boy… this is but the beginning," Harven muttered.
"With such power," Seria whispered, "he will rise as either an enemy… or a leader."
But Liven's heart wavered. He closed his eyes, the words slipping from his lips like a confession:
> "This power… is it mine, or his?"
The duel was over. Yet victory brought him no peace. As the arena emptied, he drifted to the shadowed walls, pressing his trembling hands against the cold stone. His crimson eye still burned, a mark he could not shut away.
He buried his head in his knees.
"What am I doing?" he whispered.
"This isn't me. This power… it's devouring me."
And in that darkness, a vision stirred—his mother's face, her voice soft as a prayer.
> "Please, no matter what becomes of you… do not lose your heart, Riven. Or Liven, as they call you now. The child within you still lives."
A tear slid down his cheek.
"Mother… I no longer know who I am."
The demon's whisper returned, curling like smoke around his thoughts.
> "Weakness will be your death, Liven… but I can make you strong. Choose."
Liven rose to his feet, unsteady yet unbroken. His gaze wavered, torn between despair and resolve. One truth had etched itself into his soul:
This power was his fate.
But to keep his heart from vanishing into shadow… he would have to fight.
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