They jumped quietly through the doorway. The soldier stepped forward a little and beckoned him closer. Pointing toward the sun, he called out, "Look — the sun is slowly shifting to the right… you'll go left."
The moment the soldier said "you should go left," Noctis felt something odd spread from the Moon Ring into his spirit. He focused inward for a few seconds and noticed his instincts behaving strangely. Even though sunlight was falling over them, the Moon Ring's glow was unusually pronounced.
'Is this a warning?'
Noctis had been suspicious from the moment he started talking to the soldier, but now a different, inexplicable doubt settled in him. He studied the man and raised one eyebrow.
"Are you sure the temple is on the left?"
The soldier hesitated for a few seconds and insisted the path was correct. Still, Noctis couldn't shake the feeling. He kept his composure but his voice was sharp. "Then come with me."
The soldier's face soured and his voice rose.
"I tell you the temple is there! Believe me or don't — I'm going my own way. Do whatever the hell you want!"
The man turned his back and took a few steps away. Noctis watched the soldier's retreating back; his face was unnervingly calm. As he looked at the soldier, something else caught his eye — a pale blue light between the tall buildings. His eyes widened.
His expression faltered for a moment, then he forced himself to stay composed. He spoke in a voice as calm as his face: "Hey… look over there."
The young soldier slowed and followed his gaze. When he saw the blue light, his face dropped. He took a cautious step back. Noctis stared at him without expression for a few seconds.
"Tell the truth… you ran from the kingdom instead of defending it, didn't you? Judging by those footprints, you passed close to that blue light."
The soldier began to stare at him strangely. Noctis glanced at the sword in the man's hand.
"On the battlefield, soldiers wearing the same armor… carrying the same sigil, fought each other. You were one of them, weren't you?"
The man's face froze. He let out a small breath. "If I was, what of it?"
Noctis shrugged. The young soldier frowned and glanced at the enormous buildings, then spoke in a voice that tried to sound calm.
"Yes, I was… During the battle I killed Vaelor in the kingdom and we fled… you know the rest."
Hearing the name of the dead old man made something ache inside Noctis, but his curiosity only grew. "Why?"
The soldier sneered lightly. "We couldn't let that lunatic live. Ah… but you wouldn't know, would you?" He laughed quietly, his voice dropping. "River… he's a madman. If he weren't, would he have given you that sword? Or would he have killed his elder brother?" His tone rose as he spoke. "Would he have left thousands to die?"
Noctis frowned slowly. For an instant his breath stopped. He didn't know if the soldier's words were true, but the strange feeling that had been radiating from River came back to him and made his skin crawl. Just as Noctis opened his mouth, a voice sounded, trying to calm things down.
The soldier's voice grew darker.
"I wanted to kill him with my own hands… but those damned shadows got to him first."
Noctis's instincts began to scream warnings. The man raised his sword slightly.
"I didn't tell you the truth because I pitied you… but that no longer matters."
Noctis tightened his grip on the chained sword.
The soldier cursed under his breath and stepped closer, slow but deliberate.
Noctis took his stance, ready. He was terrified inside, but he didn't let it show.
The young soldier might've been trained—but so was Noctis. His grandfather had drilled countless combat techniques into him. He wasn't an expert with swords, but he was comfortable with sharp things. He knew the advantage of striking first. So he lunged forward, gripping the blade tight, slashing from the side. The man blocked with a vertical sweep of his sword.
"Did that woman not teach you properly?"
Noctis ignored the taunt and attacked again. The man parried once more and countered, spreading his stance wide. Noctis felt the danger a split second before the man lunged.
He tried to pull back, but the soldier's strike was faster. His already-torn clothes ripped further, and a red line opened across his chest.
Noctis winced in pain. As blood dripped to the floor, both fighters moved at once. Noctis adjusted his stance. Each time he blocked, pain shot through his wrist. The soldier was strong. He slashed from the side, and Noctis blocked vertically—but the strain grew unbearable. His wrist felt ready to snap.
Noctis stepped back. The soldier's eyes darted to his injured arm, and he grinned before charging in again. Seeing the man's sword rush toward him, Noctis bent his back sharply—barely dodging a decapitating swing. The soldier glared furiously and raised his blade high, but Noctis was already close.
He swung his chained sword sideways. The man tried to block but was too slow. The blade sliced through armor and bit into flesh—not deep, but wide enough to draw blood.
The soldier grimaced in rage and kicked him hard. Noctis staggered backward, but didn't fall. Somehow, he forced himself to stay on his feet.
But there was a faint smile on his face.
He dragged the man toward a spot where sunlight streamed through between the buildings. The soldier's shadow stretched out across the ground. Noctis had done it instinctively—he wanted to bring that shadow into the open.
He had never planned to fight the man directly.
He knew the chained sword could cut shadows.
But he didn't know if it could cut a human's shadow.
'If it doesn't work… then I'll just eat his shadow myself.'
With the rising sun, the man's shadow stretched long. As the soldier stepped toward Noctis—into the shaded side—Noctis suddenly broke into a run, circling around him.
The soldier gave him a puzzled look. As Noctis ran past, the man moved to intercept. Just as Noctis swung the chained sword down toward the shadow, the soldier dropped his own blade and lunged straight at him.
They fell toward the sunlit street. Noctis lost his weapon in the fall. As he struggled beneath the man's weight, the soldier struck his face with his fists—again and again. One hand clamped around his throat, crushing his windpipe. Noctis's vision darkened, his face turning purple. His head jerked to the side under the blows.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shadow of the arm gripping his neck. Something stirred inside his core—but he ignored it. Acting on pure instinct, he reached toward the shadow. His fingers brushed the ground but couldn't reach it. It felt as though the shadow was pulling away from him.
His lungs screamed for air. His sight dimmed to black—but the idea that the shadow itself was avoiding him ignited a sharp anger. He felt his core tremble with pain. Mustering every last bit of strength, he twisted his body and stretched—finally grabbing hold of the shadow of that arm.
His fingers sank into it. The shadow stopped being a mere patch of darkness—it became tangible. The instant he gripped it, he yanked it upward and slammed it into the soldier's face.
The man hit the ground hard. Noctis gasped, coughing violently as air flooded back into his lungs. The soldier's face was twisted—shocked, confused. His eyes darted from the shadow in Noctis's hand to his own shadow on the ground.
Noctis was holding the man's arm's shadow.
The soldier couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He scrambled to his feet and charged again. Noctis watched him approach and gave a mocking grin. Then, without hesitation, he sank his teeth into the shadow he was holding.
The soldier's eyes widened. A scream tore from his throat as he dropped to his knees.
As the man writhed in agony, Noctis stared at him with a hungry gleam in his eyes and continued devouring the shadow, bite after bite. Then he picked up the chained sword from the ground and walked toward the soldier—whose screams echoed across the empty street.
He looked at the man's head—at its shadow—and raised his sword high before bringing it down in one swift, brutal strike. The scream stopped instantly. The shadow of the head separated from the body's shadow. Then, like liquid, the man's shadow slowly flowed into Noctis's own.
Noctis sank to the ground and drew long, ragged breaths.
From somewhere deep within, the divine voice of the magic echoed—like a hymn sung by an unseen choir.
[ You have killed a human ]
[ Shadow is being devoured ]
[ Your soul has grown stronger ]
Noctis ignored the voice and continued to breathe heavily for minutes. His gaze lingered on the corpse, and he let out a tired sigh.
He always felt something strange when he killed a person. Taking a life was never meaningless—but if his own life was at stake, he would never hesitate.
'If you had told the truth… you'd still be alive.'
After a few minutes of silence, Noctis slowly stood. His eyes wandered across the area, scanning the surroundings.
'So much for the temple trip… what a waste.'
He exhaled deeply and looked down at the Moon Ring. Its gray glow had grown brighter.
Then, suddenly, something pulled his attention.
He turned sharply toward the open gate nearby—there was a narrow passage beside it. His instincts whispered one word: Go.
'Huh?'
He stared at the narrow gap for several minutes, confused, yet unable to shake the urge to move closer. Against all logic, he felt drawn to it.
Taking a deep breath, he chose to trust his instincts. He grabbed his chained sword and started walking.
His body ached from battle, and his mind throbbed from sleeplessness. Each breath came rough and open-mouthed. Hours had passed since the fight.
When he reached the open gate, he hesitated.
He couldn't bring himself to pass through it—so he took another path.
He'd left the massive road behind and walked until the towering buildings were only distant silhouettes. Before long, he found himself once again surrounded by emerald-green grass.
But this time… something felt off.
With every mile he crossed, he noticed a change. The grass was getting shorter. Near the buildings, it had reached his knees—but now, it barely brushed his ankles.
He didn't think much of it and kept walking.
The sun had drifted west, hanging near the horizon. The fading light and the first glimmers of stars painted a hauntingly beautiful sky.
Minutes passed. Then, the grass disappeared entirely—replaced by cracked soil and scattered stones. Noctis kept glancing around nervously. He was terrified of seeing that faint blue light again.
Ever since his encounter with it, the image of blue light and shadows haunted his mind. Even now, his eyes twitched at every glimmer, convinced he was seeing it again.
'It'll fade once the trial ends anyway.'
He managed to convince himself of that lie and kept walking. The sun had vanished, leaving only darkness behind. The night sky stretched above him, filled with countless shining stars that reflected in his deep blue eyes.
Every time he looked up, he felt a strange longing for the moon. It wasn't love or admiration—just longing. The moon reminded him of his mother.
Noctis kept glancing around. There were faint, emotionless whispers drifting through the air. He tried to push the unsettling thoughts from his mind, but his eyes still scanned the shadows around him. He had wrapped the glowing Moon Seal with the foul shroud. Yet the farther he followed his instincts, the brighter the gray light beneath the cloth became.
He climbed another hill, breathing heavily, checking his surroundings again. He didn't know where he was going—he only knew he had to keep walking through the dark.
When he reached the next hilltop—taller and steeper than the last—he sat down to rest for a few minutes. The cool breeze brushed his aching face, easing the sting of his wounds.
But then, in a sudden shiver of dread, he turned around. His face drained of color. His eyes widened. His heartbeat grew heavy, and every hair on his body stood on end.
What he saw looked like the stars themselves had fallen to the earth. In the distance—far beyond the hills—dozens of faint blue lights shimmered.
Noctis's breath caught in his throat.
He shot to his feet and started running, stumbling forward as fast as his legs allowed. He tripped again and again, barely catching himself before falling, but he didn't slow down. The sight of those lights drove him forward.
He no longer cared about the shadows. He wrapped the disgusting shroud tighter around himself. His aching wounds no longer hurt. His thoughts fell silent—only his instincts remained.
He staggered onward as the ground sloped upward. The Moon Seal's glow pierced through the shroud, its light brushing his face. He didn't want to look back—but he couldn't stop himself. Every time he did, he saw the wave of blue light drawing closer.
Panting, he climbed the final stretch. When he reached the top, he froze—breath trembling in his chest.
The Moon Seal had gone dark.
And before him, illuminated by the cold starlight, stood the Temple of the Shadow Angel.