The shadows twisted.
Not from wind. Not from flame. But from something deeper—a slant in reality. The view passed through them like a ghost, quiet and invisible, until it settled on two faint projections, flickering with restless magic. They weren't real. Not fully. Echoes, watching.
Lucian leaned back against nothing, arms folded, voice low and easy.
"If he's got that kind of power, why hold back? Doesn't make sense."
Maya didn't look at him. Her voice was sharper, honed like a blade.
"Sure, he was told to hide it. But even then—he's barely using it. That's not control. That's hesitation."
Lucian gave a lopsided grin, though there was no humor in it.
"Maybe he's not hesitating. Maybe he's saving it."
"For what?"
"For something," Lucian said.
"Something we don't get yet. You think Vael does anything without a reason? He's building toward something. Long game. Quiet game."
Maya's tone shifted, quieter now, like she didn't want the shadows themselves to hear.
"Or maybe he knows. Maybe he's scared of what he might do. Not to us. To everyone."
Lucian's laugh was short.
"Vael doesn't strike me as someone afraid of himself. If anything, he's just waiting for the world to give him an excuse."
Maya crossed her arms, gaze narrowing.
"Whatever it is... when he moves, everything changes. I just don't think we're ready."
Lucian said nothing at first. Then:
"Good. Change is overdue."
The projections flickered once more, and the view faded like breath on glass.
Elsewhere, under the same fading sky...
The Combat Grounds.
Vael sat still, silent near the edge, while the others fought. Dust rose. Voices shouted. Magic crackled. But he remained motionless.
Watching.
Measuring.
Some students fought with brute force. Others with discipline. Few with both.
Vael watched every misstep. Every overextension. Every tell.
A voice stirred in his mind. Calm. Familiar. Not his own.
"You could end every match here with a single strike."
"But restraint matters. Observation matters. Strip it all down. Find the bones. Rebuild from there."
Vael didn't respond.
"You relied on power once. It carried you. It broke things. But now—that's not enough."
"You want to survive what's coming? Learn their rhythm. Learn control."
His eyes followed a clumsy lunge. A panicked parry. A stumble.
"Power is a weapon. But control is what aims it. Remember that."
His fingers flexed once, then relaxed.
"Enough!" came the sharp voice of Instructor Draven. "Reset!"
Vael rose without a sound.
From combat to cold clarity...
The Academy pulsed with purpose.
Stone halls. Towering windows. Cold light. No softness.
Tactical theory. Arcane formulas. Combat psychology.
No wasted breath. No second chances.
Vael didn't speak. He didn't ask. He absorbed.
He moved like a shadow behind the world.
Hours passed. Lessons faded. And as the sun dipped...
By sunset, the Academy had exhaled. The day's weight settled into stone and silence. Students filtered out. Some limped. Others laughed too loud. Voices trailed into the corridors.
Vael said nothing.
He walked alone, part of the crowd but not in it. His steps were measured. Eyes downward, yet watching.
His room was empty. Cold. The air untouched.
A manual on monster hierarchies sat unfinished. He ignored it.
He sat. Waited.
The world darkened outside.
Crystal lamps flickered to life—one by one. Arcane light breathing slowly.
Then—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Heavy. Sharp. Like urgency had learned to knock.
Vael didn't flinch. Just stood.
Lucian stood at the door, sleeves rolled, eyes lit with something between excitement and tension.
"You meditate with your eyes open or what?"
Vael waited.
"Gear up. Special session. Now."
Vael didn't ask questions. He turned, grabbed gloves and coat. Movements efficient. Expected.
Lucian watched him with a raised brow.
"About time things got interesting," he muttered.
And so the night began.
The halls were quiet now. Not empty—but close. Their footsteps echoed in wide, empty spaces.
Lucian's voice came softer.
"Most of them are out cold by now. That's the idea. No eyes. No ears. Best time to train... especially you."
Vael glanced at him. "To hide it."
"To control it," Lucian said.
"To make sure you don't blow the west wing off by accident."
They walked under arches carved with runes that pulsed faintly. Out into moonlight.
The training field waited. Wide. Open. Still.
And someone was already there.
Maya.
At the center. Eyes closed. Arms crossed. Still as a blade in a scabbard.
She spoke before turning.
"Took you long enough."
Lucian gave a half-smirk. "We don't teleport, Maya."
Vael watched her without blinking.
She opened her eyes.
"You're wondering what this is.
"Why you're here."
Vael said nothing.
Lucian stepped forward.
"Every other night. Midnight. Just us. No instructors. No record."
Maya nodded.
"This is the real work. The part the Academy won't show you. Because it can't."
Vael raised a brow. Slight. Controlled.
"You're new to all this," Maya said.
"New to what's real. A week ago, you didn't know gods walked this world."
Lucian added, "Now? You've killed a Goblin Lord. Survived a divine encounter. Shattered a dozen rules. And the Sigils are whispering your name."
Vael stood still, but the tension in the air grew weightier.
"You have power," Maya said.
"But power without understanding—that's a loaded weapon with no safety."
Lucian paced now. "We're not here to coach you. We're here to prepare you. Because if you screw this up, you don't just die. Everyone around you does too."
Maya stepped closer.
"You in?"
Vael nodded once.
Lucian smiled. Brief. Serious.
"Then let's begin."
As the training began, so did the truths.
Moonlight poured over the grounds like silver blood.
Maya spoke, steady.
"This world's filled with more than monsters. More than curses. More than kings."
Lucian's voice followed. Low. Controlled.
"Gods walk among us. They feed on obedience, fear, faith. They rule by silence and shadows."
Vael didn't flinch. But he listened.
"The Order isn't new," Maya said.
"It's older than empires. It stood before your kingdoms had names. Before humans had words."
Lucian added, "Back when we still feared the trees—we were already out there, bleeding in the dark so the world could sleep."
"We're not heroes," Maya said.
"We're a wall. A last one. When the divine come to harvest, we're what stands between survival and extinction."
Lucian nodded. "And we never win. We just buy time."
They walked slowly now, back into shadow.
"At first," Maya said, "all we wanted was survival. But monsters don't stop growing. And neither could we."
Lucian leaned against a pillar.
"So we evolved. Got faster. Smarter. Deadlier. Now we take down Class-Dragon threats like sport."
Maya's voice softened.
"But power isn't enough. It's control. Strategy. Foresight. Because the moment we lose that—"
"—everything burns," Lucian finished.
Maya turned to Vael.
"And gods? We can't kill them. Not yet. We can only delay them."
Lucian's gaze hardened.
"But you, Vael—you might be something else."
The night pressed in.
The silence between them said more than any oath ever could.