Dawn was barely creeping over the jagged horizon when Kael opened his eyes. The forest seemed… quieter than last night, though the silence was deceptive. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, carried a weight he had never noticed before. The power in his veins pulsed faintly, almost impatiently, as if reminding him that the night's exercises were just a warm-up.
Marvax appeared with a flourish, seemingly materializing from the shadows themselves.
"Good morning, Kael!" he said, voice cheerful yet laced with menace. "Time for round two. Today, we'll see if you can make something more terrifying than a particularly annoyed raccoon."
Kael groaned. "Seriously, Marvax? You don't waste any time."
"Waste?" Marvax's grin widened. "I don't waste anything. Not even your suffering. That's entertainment. And education. But mostly entertainment. Don't overthink it. Or do—makes my day more interesting."
Kael rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. The demon's humor was almost unbearable at times, a jarring contrast to the gravity of what was happening. But he had learned something last night: humor or no humor, the lessons were real. The power thrummed beneath his skin like a living thing, and he had no choice but to master it.
"First exercise: perception," Marvax announced. "I will summon illusions around you—creatures, traps, whispers. You must identify reality from trickery. Fail, and I'll… well, let's say humiliation isn't the worst that can happen."
Kael clenched his fists. Shadows stretched and twisted around him as Marvax waved a hand, summoning phantoms that lurched and hissed, some snarling with fangs, others just… ridiculous. One appeared to be a giant chicken wielding a sword.
Kael blinked. "A… chicken?"
Marvax clapped his hands, laughing. "Exactly! If you can't even dodge a sword-wielding chicken, what hope do you have against monsters that actually want to kill you?"
Suppressing a frustrated groan, Kael focused. The illusions flickered, their shapes wavering as he extended his senses, feeling the pulse of the forest, the vibration of reality itself. His eyes honed in, picking up subtle discrepancies—the unnatural motion of a claw, the faint shimmer of an illusion dissolving. One by one, he dodged, struck, and displaced the phantoms with bursts of shadow energy that pulsed like living fire.
Marvax nodded, impressed despite himself. "Not bad, Kael. You're learning. Slow, but… entertainingly slow. Next: combat."
From the shadows, three figures emerged. Each radiated power in a way that made the air hum. Kael's stomach tightened. These weren't illusions. These were real—rivals, or perhaps… tests.
"You'll face these three," Marvax said, floating lazily behind him. "They've trained longer, survived worse, and are… well, let's say they're on the 'highly annoying' side of your learning curve. Go!"
The first opponent charged—a tall, muscular man with silver hair that glimmered like steel. His eyes burned with a mixture of arrogance and amusement. Kael felt a spike of fear. The power thrumming through the man was real, raw, and dangerous.
The second opponent twirled in a blur, a woman whose movements were so fast they seemed almost teleporting. Her laughter echoed unnaturally, slicing through the morning stillness.
The third, a hulking brute covered in scars, simply grinned and cracked his knuckles, the ground trembling beneath him.
Kael's pulse raced. He had never faced anything like this.
The silver-haired man lunged, sword gleaming with energy. Kael dodged, feeling the wind whip past him as the blade sliced where his head had been moments before. His instincts screamed, honed from the demon's teachings, but the real fight demanded more than instinct—it demanded creativity, speed, and control.
Kael reached into himself, calling forth shadows that erupted from the forest floor, wrapping around the attacker's legs and tripping him. The silver-haired man cursed, rolling to break free, only to glance at Kael with a spark of respect.
Meanwhile, the woman moved like liquid, slashing with twin blades. Kael barely had time to react, shadows flicking up to parry and redirect her strikes. She laughed again—high, clear, mocking.
"Not bad, newbie!" she said. "You'll last… maybe two minutes against Rafael."
Kael froze. Rafael. That name made his blood run cold. He didn't ask for details. Some lessons weren't optional.
The hulking brute charged, swinging his massive fists. Kael's shadow energy flared, forming protective tendrils that absorbed the impact, yet he stumbled, the force knocking him against a tree. Pain flared, sharp and real. He gritted his teeth, feeling the power surge, responding instinctively, reshaping itself around his will.
Marvax's voice cut through the chaos. "Improvise! Adapt! Or die embarrassingly!"
Kael growled, twisting shadows into blades that struck with precision. One by one, he pushed back the attackers, each clash more intense than the last. Bruises blossomed across his arms, cuts opened on his face, but the thrill of battle was intoxicating. He was learning… fast.
Suddenly, the silver-haired man paused, pointing at Kael. "Hey, I just realized… you look ridiculous swinging shadows like a drunk mime!"
The hulking brute bellowed laughter. "Seriously! Who gave you that fashion sense? Shadow energy, really? So last century!"
The woman giggled. "And that hair! Are you trying to intimidate us or audition for a magical boy band?"
Kael froze mid-attack. "…What?"
Marvax's laughter rang out, rich and dark. "See, Kael? Even amidst life-and-death combat, humor is essential. Always. They break the fourth wall constantly, so you better adapt or die laughing."
Kael blinked, confusion and irritation mixing. But he couldn't stop. The attack continued. Shadows surged, defensive and offensive at once, forcing the three back.
By the time exhaustion set in, sweat streaming down his face and arms trembling, Kael had survived. He was battered, bruised, but alive—and, most importantly, he had learned.
Marvax clapped slowly, eyes glittering. "Congratulations, Kael. You just survived your first real spar. You'll die tomorrow. Maybe. But today… you live."
Kael fell to his knees, breathing heavily. His body was screaming, but a strange satisfaction coursed through him. The power wasn't just a gift—it was a responsibility. And if he could survive this… he could survive anything.
"You see, Kael," Marvax said, his tone suddenly serious, voice dropping into a grave rumble, "the world beyond this forest? It's far worse than sparring. Governments, rogue demons, failed experiments like Rafael—they don't care about your comfort. They care about results. And if you fail… well… let's just say the forest won't be the only place to teach you humility."
Kael swallowed hard. His hands shook as he flexed them, feeling the shadows respond instinctively. Every movement, every thought, every breath was connected now to the legacy of Marvax.
And yet… amid the darkness, the jokes, the absurdities, he found a strange resolve. He would master this power, not just to survive—but to define who Kael was, beyond the shadow of the old demon.
The forest fell silent again, only the faint crackle of embers from the previous night's campfire and the distant caw of a raven breaking the stillness. Kael sat on a fallen log, staring at the dark horizon, and whispered to himself:
"I'll survive. No matter what it takes."
And somewhere in the shadows, Marvax grinned, invisible yet omnipresent. "Yes, Kael… yes, I like the sound of that."