"The world doesn't give you a choice—it only gives you a path. You decide whether to walk it… or not."
At the heart of the continent of Eyliar—the capital where the Four Kingdoms convened—rose a monument known as the Obsidian Spire. Every fifteen years, a ritual was held here to assign each youth a path according to their destined class.
"Only thirty candidates this year," murmured a master of dark magic.
"Let's see how many make it to the end," said the Soul Invocation instructor.
The youths advanced cautiously toward the altar, where a colossal statue awaited them—its hollow eyes already judging their fates.
Among the crowd stood three young men, brimming with excitement, oblivious to what destiny had in store.
"I'm ready for whatever test comes my way," Kikoshin declared, brimming with confidence.
"Don't act like an idiot," Rioyin snapped, his tone sharp and serious.
"Mind your own business," Kikoshin shot back.
The two locked eyes, tension crackling between them—until Kaory stepped in, gently pulling them apart.
"Don't fight," Kaory said softly.
A deep, resonant chime echoed through the square, silencing the murmurs and drawing every gaze toward the statue.
"Listen well," the statue intoned, its voice ancient and hollow. "Each of you will be evaluated. Based on your potential and your stats, you will be assigned to a class or category."
Excitement rippled through the students.
"Once the evaluation concludes," the statue continued, "you will be grouped with your assigned master."
Whispers erupted across the crowd. Most hoped for Elemental Magic or Summoning—paths considered the easiest to walk.
"When your name is called," the statue announced, "step forward. You will be judged by me."
One by one, names rang out.
"Kikoshin Suyo."
"Present," Kikoshin replied.
He strode through the crowd and stood before the statue, heart pounding. All he wanted was the path of Summoning.
Golden light poured from the statue's eyes, wrapping around Kikoshin like a cocoon. After a few tense seconds, the light flickered—and shifted to an inky black.
Gasps spread through the crowd. Some students flinched back in fear.
The light faded.
"Kikoshin Suyo," the statue declared.
Kikoshin swallowed hard, bracing himself.
"By your heart, your history, and your legacy… you are fated to walk the Path of Shadows."
A wave of murmurs surged through the onlookers.
Kikoshin stood frozen, words failing him. Frustration coiled in his chest—he'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps.
Silent and defeated, he walked back through the crowd. Eyes followed him. Whispers trailed behind. To be chosen for the Path of Shadows meant suffering. Anxiety. Isolation.
One by one, the others were called.
Some were assigned to Elemental Magic. Others to Summoning. A few to Dark Magic.
Then came Kaory—and Rioyin Goto.
Both were also marked for the Path of Shadows.
When the ritual ended, students clustered in groups according to their paths. Kikoshin, Kaory, and Rioyin stood apart in a quiet corner, weighed down by the invisible burden of their new fate. No one dared speak. The weight of shadows already pressed upon their shoulders.
Masters approached their new disciples—each group claimed, except one.
Kikoshin, Rioyin, and Kaory remained unclaimed.
Then—the ground split open.
From the abyss below rose a throne forged from blackened skulls. Seated upon it was a towering figure: Nagatho Soo, Master of Shadows—known across the land as The Father of the Dead.
"So… you are my disciples," Nagatho said, his face unreadable.
A hush fell over the square. His presence alone sent shivers down spines.
Nagatho descended from his throne and approached the three boys. His gaze pierced through them like ice, making their bones tremble.
"You'd better not be a waste of my time," he said coldly.
The Dark Magic master stepped forward and placed a hand on Nagatho's shoulder. "Don't be too hard on them."
Nagatho didn't even look at him. "Who gave you permission to touch me?"
In an instant, the Dark Magic master's own shadow twisted to life—lashing out like a whip and slamming him into the stone wall with bone-crunching force.
Gasps. Screams. Stunned silence.
"Rule number one," Nagatho said, turning back to his new disciples. "Guard your shadow."
Kikoshin, Rioyin, and Kaory stared, wide-eyed—equal parts terrified and awestruck. They were his now.
Without another word, Nagatho returned to his throne and sat like a king reclaiming his domain.
"I'll see you in your dormitories in ten minutes," he said. "And if you're late… another shadow will speak for you."
With that, the throne—and Nagatho—sank back into the earth. The rift sealed shut, as if it had never been there at all.