The observation chamber of House Shadow was carved from obsidian and blackglass, its cathedral-high ceilings draped in flowing banners of midnight silk. Enchanted sconces flickered with restrained shadowflame, casting violet light and long, twisting silhouettes across the polished stone. Along the walls, ancient sigils hummed faintly, preserving a silence that felt sacred.
Through arched panes of spell-glass framed in onyx, the full breadth of the coliseum stretched below—bloodstained sands, towering blackstone walls carved with ancient house crests, and a ring of wards that shimmered with barely-contained tension.
Moments ago, it had been a chamber of leisure.
Nobles lounged with effortless grace, draped across velvet seats, sipping burgundy wines and murmuring of bloodlines and battle theory. The duel below was amusing—an idle curiosity. A Rank One match. Too slow to be dangerous. Too novel to be ignored.
Until now.
From the sands, a voice rose—clear, defiant, divine.
"Be honored....oh shadow, for you are about to witness... the father of all."
"The Sun."
Lucien's declaration cracked like a war-drum against the bones of the coliseum—louder than any ward should allow.
And then came the light.
Not soft. Not gentle. But absolute.A radiance the city of dusk had never known tore across the arena, filling the dome with molten brilliance. It wasn't asecond sun—it was the sun. Forced into existence.
The chamber gasped as one.
Goblets tilted. Wine spilled across velvet and gloves. The nobles surged forward, drawn to the glass like moths, their faces pale beneath the wash of unnatural gold.
"The Sun of Dawn," someone breathed—not in awe, but in fear.
"Another Herald," someone else spat, shadows curling tighter around them in protest. The room itself seemed to recoil. The sconces dimmed, resisting the invasion.
"How many Sun mages remain?" asked a silver-masked woman, voice clipped. "Under fifteen?"
A lean man in bishop's garb gave a hollow laugh. "Fewer than that. Most of their bloodlines burned out generations ago. House Dawn guards them like relics. Breeds them like myths."
"And now they have quite a talented one," someone murmured. "To use that forsaken spell at Rank One... how troublesome."
"This Lucien…" The name lingered in the air like prophecy.
"He's more than a Sun mage," the masked woman added, her gloved fingers white around her goblet. "That domain spell—it's not just technique. It's inheritance. That boy wasn't trained. He was born for it."
"House Dawn was falling...," said a noble near the back. "Fat with titles, thin on strength. A desert kingdom gilded with old sunlight. But now? With someone like that under their banner…"
"Imagine when he ascends the ranks," another added, the words hushed like prayer.
"Their rise begins again," muttered a third. "Just like last time. Light, followed by conquest."
"And schemes," an elder finished, eyes narrowed. "Always schemes, when the sun grows too bold."
"He's a symbol now," the bishop in burgundy sighed. "The kind that draws banners. Sun mages are rare for a reason. The mana resists them. Too pure. Too potent. It burns the body if the soul isn't strong enough."
"Then that boy must be fireproof," someone quipped, with no humor.
"He's young. Controlled. Too controlled, for someone blessed with radiance," came a pensive voice. "That's the danger. That's the Dawn way. Bright smiles, and blood behind the silk."
A pause.
"And what of the other one?" someone asked, glancing down. "This... Astra. I hadn't even heard of him before this tournament. A recent adoption?"
"He's performed well," a bishop noted, more analytical than impressed. "Talented. Composed. This will be a good loss for him."
"Or a cruel one," another said dryly. "The kind that turns talent into ambition... or ashes."
Alistair simply smiled in the corner, silent among the knights and bishops. He knew more than most. And he liked what he saw.
Now over a hundred nobles stood in uneasy clusters—pawns, squires, knights, even bishops of House Shadow. Their dark robes rustled as they shifted, tense and watchful.
In a corner half-devoured by gloom, Vesper stood with his shoulder to the obsidian wall, arms crossed. Still. Silent. His expression unreadable.
Around him, younger Rank Ones and a few anxious Rank Twos watched the arena through the glass—and watched him. Waiting.
Velora stood beside him, her gaze sharp. Calculating. "It's… beautiful," she murmured, but the word landed wrong. Like a lie she wasn't sure she wanted to believe.
Below, mana surged in spirals around Lucien. His form became a figure of divine fire—his blade gleaming like something born from the heart of a star. Shadows twisted, shrieked, and fled from him. Even here, within protected walls, the air shimmered with heat and presence before it disappeared, the shadows growing deeper and in displeasure as the nobles of house shadow gazed upon the battle.
Vesper finally spoke. His voice was low. Measured.
"It's not just light. It's dominion."
A younger noble, hands trembling, whispered, "W-what kind of spell is that?"
His gaze never moved from the glass. "The Sun of Dawn. A pinnacle-tier Rank Two domain spell. Unique to House Dawn's inner line. Its power doesn't obey traditional limits. No ordinary light mage could cast it—only those blessed by the sun can endure its favor. And its cruelty."
Another noble, older, murmured with a dry voice, "It's...unpleasant at higher ranks."
Outside, the golden sky writhed, overwriting Duskfall's twilight like a tyrant rewriting scripture. Lucien's domain expanded, saturating the battlefield with oppressive radiance.
Velora stepped closer. "It drains life mana from everything—the air, the stone, ambient threads. It burns the world dry. And in return, it exalts him. Speed. Power. Precision. His very presence becomes overwhelming. His enemies unravel in that light. Their wills splinter."
"Can he bring it down?" someone asked.
"Yes," she said. "Like a falling star. Like divine punishment. But he's still a Rank One. His control has limits."
A hush fell again. Not silence—reverence. Like priests beneath a sky about to break.
And still, Vesper didn't move.
"Tch," he muttered. "Flashy bastard."
Someone glanced at him. "You're not worried?"
He smiled, faintly. Almost fondly. "No. Because Astra's a scary, talented bastard."
A few looked confused.
"He thrives under pressure," Vesper continued. "The more impossible the odds, the more dangerous he becomes. That kind of battlefield doesn't bury him. It hones him."
The light caught his eyes then—deep obsidian flecked with red, like coals smoldering in a midnight hearth.
"That little princess has gone through more evolutions in a week than most do in years."He pushed off the wall, shadows slithering away from him like a cloak sliding from his shoulders."That sun?" He nodded to the arena. "That's not the end. It's the test. It'll show us what he becomes when the world tries to burn him out."
Behind him, the chamber had changed.
The nobles no longer lounged. No longer drank. They crowded the windows—masks slipping, postures taut. Not curious.
Witnessing.
And far below, in the heart of that crucible of light, where no shadow should have survived...
The harbinger of night still stood proud and strong.
.....
Astra stood beneath the unforgiving sun, its heat searing through his armor like an inferno. His body ached, his mind growing foggy, weighed down by the oppressive heat. Sweat dripped down his brow, blurring his vision. The sensation of the sun's cruel touch was unbearable, its rays scorching everything in their path. The shadows, once his allies, recoiled, unable to form in such a relentless light. Damn it... Astra's breath came in shallow gasps. He could feel his strength draining away, his magic faltering. The water mana he once could draw on was weak here, a mere whisper against the sun's unyielding force. The light... it's suffocating. Luciens magical prowess glowed with the power of rank two, his presence feeling like a large hill atop Astra.
"Damn, what a predicament," Astra muttered, his voice strained. His violet eyes gleamed faintly, though the usual sharpness had dulled with exhaustion. Lucien stood in front of him, towering and confident, the Sword of Dawn gleaming in his hand, pointed directly at Astra's chest.
"Come now, Shadow," Lucien's voice rang out, filled with cruel authority and power. "Feel the wrath of the Sword of Dawn."
Astra clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. A domain spell... He'd seen Lucien wield his domain magic with precise control—a manipulation of the sun's power, light becoming both sword and shield. Astra had been too distracted by the sun's intensity to form a plan. His domain spell is powerful... The thought clawed at him, gnawing at the edges of his mind. If only I had more time…
Astra stood there panicking....
"If you won't come, then I will," Lucien declared, cold and calculating.
Lucien's blade surged downward in a flash, and Astra barely had time to react before a fist connected with his chest. He was sent flying back, the force of the blow leaving him gasping for air.
"Damn it..." Astra's thoughts clouded with the rush of pain. What the hell am I supposed to do here? His body was burning, his magic wavering. Shadows, his only refuge, had no power in this light. I can't escape this... The heat, the light, everything was closing in on him. It was as if the sun was trying to burn away his very essence. Astra looked up, squinting against the blinding light.
And then, it hit him.
"Wait… no, it couldn't... it shouldn't work... but what if it does?"
His heart pounded in his chest. It was a gamble—a dangerous, reckless gamble—but it was the only chance he had left. I can't back out now... not with everything on the line. His mind raced, spurred by an insatiable curiosity that gnawed at him. Could this really work? Could I... could I actually use this?
Astra stood shakily, the burn of the sun still piercing him, but his resolve hardened. "Hey, Lucien, you hit like a desert fiend you bastard"
Focus. I need to focus. Astra's mind raced, recalling every scrap of knowledge he had. Celestial mana... shadow magic... This isn't just about surviving... it's about learning. The right way to control this power. The stars... the sun. Lucien's light. I need to combine them. His mind swirled as he pieced together the puzzle.
Stars… sun… shadow magic... The incantation danced on the tip of his tongue, but it wasn't the words that mattered. It was the intention, the design of the spell. I need to use Lucien's own sun magic... something to mask what I'm doing. To hide it from him. He remembered something—celestial mana, he was incredibly powerful with that , it was something that could finally give him a chance, but he cant reveal himself here.
Lucien's sun magic was far too pure, far too perfect. But what if he could twist it to Siphon a new spell? Use it to cover the celestial mana within him? Stars, sun, shadows... I just need to weave them together—use the shadows as a veil to mask the star magic I need.
The heat of the sun bore down on him as he called upon the shadows, but they were weaker here, struggling against the sun's intensity. No… don't focus on the limits. Just… just do it. He could feel the threads of his magic pulling together in his mind, the idea blooming fully. The stars are within me. I can use them. I can bend the celestial mana to my will... mask it with sun magic. He reached out to the weak shadows around him, tugging at them, bending them to his command. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
I can do this. I have to do this. I can't let the sun burn me down, not like this.
Astra's fingers trembled as he almost gathered the celestial mana within him, the feeling of it almost crackling at his fingertips. it was dangerous. The very thing that made it powerful was also the thing that could expose him.
As Astra focused, Lucien moved toward him with a swift, almost predatory motion. Before Astra could react, Lucien's hand shot out, grabbing him by the throat. Astra's breath caught as Lucien lifted him off the ground with ease, as he threw him down his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion as he whispered in Astras ear.
"Tell me, Shadow," Lucien's voice was ice-cold, but with a strange edge of curiosity. "Why does my sun react the way it does to you? It harbors a little love... and disdain for you. Yet you are nothing more than a shadow....or are you?" His grip tightened, and he leaned closer to Astra, his voice now a whisper, filled with dark amusement. "This shouldn't be possible. So tell me why. What is this? Why does my domain smile upon you...?"
Astra's vision blurred, his pulse hammering in his throat. Damn it, of course he can feel it... Lucien wasn't just a master of sun magic. He was technically also a form of star mage, connected to celestial forces just like Astra, though in a far more specified, more niche form. Lucien's awareness of mana was powerful. He can tell something's wrong… Astra's throat burned as he fought to breathe, but his mind remained sharp.
Focus, Astra. Don't let him distract you. His hands trembled, but he kept his thoughts on the spell. The shadows were weak, but still they clung to him, and the celestial mana swirled just beneath the surface, hidden. He needed more time, just a little more.
"Lucien..." Astra's voice was strained, barely a whisper. He could feel his mana reserves running thin, the energy needed to maintain his mask slipping through his fingers. He opened his mouth, summoning the last of his strength. "Fuck off."
In an instant, shadows surged beneath him, weak but determined. They pushed against Lucien's grip, weakening his hold just enough as Astra punched Lucien helmet denting it, Lucien simply dismissed it as he glared at Astra in dark amusement. Astra gasped as he staggered to his feet, the last of his energy surging through him. His aura flared as the pieces of the his desperate gamble fell into place.
"Witness the inevitable."
Astra's voice rang out—weak, but sharp—cutting through the heat-warped air of the arena. His presence, already faltering under the pressure of Lucien's light, began to descend even further.
This was it. His desperate gamble.He would either break through his limits here and now... or suffer a bitter, crushing defeat.
Astra's heart pounded. His thoughts were fogged by desperation. His body, already drained by the punishing glare of the sun above, trembled under the strain. Still, he pushed forward. He had to. There was no other path. If he didn't rise now, he would fall for good.
His eyes lifted to the golden sky, the cruel sun burning down like a merciless father, judging him. His aura had dimmed… until now.
Then it stirred.
Shadows began to flicker, curling at his feet like hounds waking from a long slumber. His mana surged—with raw conviction.
With trembling arms, Astra lifted his hands toward the sky. His breath was shallow, but in the set of his jaw, there was steel. Mana sparked at his fingertips, twisting and coiling like molten dark fire.
He summoned the shadows—But more than that, he reached deeper. Into the reserves of his hidden strength. Into the core he had kept veiled all this time.
His Star core.
It should have been impossible to hide its light. Celestial mana was radiant by nature—pure and unmistakable.But Astra's spell was devouring the same magic from Lucien's sun. The illusion was perfect.
No one knew the truth. Not the crowd. Not the judges. Not even Lucien himself.They all assumed the celestial flares came from him—never realizing Astra was using his own light to also feed the spell.
"No way. It's working," Astra thought.
The spell was a leech construct—meant to absorb and feed off hostile mana. That alone wouldn't be enough against a power like Lucien's sun.But Astra had modified it.
With every shadow that surged, he pulled in a sliver of celestial mana from Lucien—and let out his own. Masked, distorted, funneled through the leech spell like oil through fire.
It shouldn't work.But it was working.
The shadows hissed and twisted beneath him. He began to speak, his voice seething with power as the shadows embraced him—his strength reaching heights even he hadn't known he possessed.
"Shadows of Night…"
The shadows exploded outward, tearing across the ground in spirals, as if summoned by the words themselves.
His core trembled—both of them. One of Mana, and one of the Stars—working together for the first time.And as sunlight poured down on him, it was drawn in, hungrily consumed by the black mana at his feet.
"Shall rise and fall…"
A ball of swirling darkness formed, rising from his shadow, fed by Lucien's own light. It grew larger, heavier—its surface flickering with the unnatural shimmer of stolen sunlight.
The crowd gasped as it floated into the air above Astra—unstable, seething, alive.
Astra felt it then. The power. The pull.His spell was devouring the light.And the more it consumed, the stronger it became. He was stealing not just the mana—but the concept—and linking it to his own spell, elevating its power to match Lucien's.
The crowd rose in volume.
"Leech thy cruel light..."
The orb above him pulsed like a second sun—one made of shadow and void. Its core was jagged and unstable, wrapped in tendrils of darkness that lashed at the sunlight around it. The two magics—sun and shadow—should've torn each other apart.
But here, now, they danced.Bound by Astra's control.
"As you eclipse all…"
The black orb hovered high, now a true presence in the arena. Light bent around it. The shadows below thickened, stretching far beyond what they should've.
"Oh darkness of Shadowfall..."
The spell erupted.
The orb cracked open—not in flame, but in silence—unleashing a sweeping tide of shadow across the field. The arena dimmed. The crowd gasped in awe and disbelief as the sunlight faltered.
Darkness.
A wave of shadow swept across the arena, devouring the golden light. The battlefield was plunged into night, like a solar eclipse that had descended without warning.
Gasps erupted from the crowd. The judges stood, mouths open. For a moment, nothing could be seen but the swirl of tenebrous mana surging like a tide across the arena floor.
But then—light pushed back.
Lucien's sun flared, burning brighter, its corona expanding in defiance. His domain surged, golden and hot, searing into the tide of night.
The result—
A battlefield torn in two.
One half cloaked in endless, shifting shadow.The other bathed in unforgiving sunlight.
Overhead, the sky held two opposing orbs:One, a blinding miniature sun.The other, a pulsing sphere of blackness with threads of hidden celestial light flickering within.
The clash was undeniable.
A domain spell clash… in the Rank One division.Something that shouldn't even be possible and is rarely seen even in Rank Three matches, the pinnacle of mana casting and talent.
The shadows around Astra thickened, anchoring him in place. They curled up his arms, wrapping around his spine, coiling like serpents made of dusk.
stra stood beneath the black sun, breath slowly steadying.
The dark orb pulsed above like a collapsed star on the edge of rebirth—its surface swirling with shadow and distorted threads of stolen light. From it, mana flowed into him in quiet waves. It fed him. Nourished him. His limbs, once trembling, grew steadier. His lungs filled deeper.
And the shadows—his shadows—had changed.
They no longer writhed in chaos. They obeyed now. Sharp, coiled, focused. No longer mere extensions of his will, but instruments of it. They wrapped around his body like disciplined hounds, each one precise, tyrannical, pulsing with dark tenebrous power. He could feel them waiting, hungering, ready to strike at the barest flicker of thought.
"The pinnacle of Rank Two…" someone whispered from the crowd as Astras presence dawned on them.
To the spectators, it looked like Astra had siphoned Lucien's mana—an ingenious, unorthodox construct born of theft and brilliance.
But Astra was still Rank One.
And yet his shadows moved with the authority of a tyrant. As if the black sun had crowned him. The magical prowess that emanated off him matched that of Luciens.
He lifted his eyes.
Across from him stood Lucien, incandescent. His golden aura shimmered with the heat of a star—radiant, commanding. The arena floor beneath him cracked faintly, scorched by the residual heat of his presence. And his eyes—those brilliant golden eyes—fixed on Astra with an intensity that cut deeper than any blade.
Lucien's expression was unreadable. Confused… but more than that—uneasy.
He looked at the black sun again, frowning. "What kind of spell is that?" he muttered the air growing hot and hazy around him.
His voice wasn't taunting. It wasn't proud.
It was cautious.
He didn't know. He still didn't see it. To him, the leech spell was just clever shadow magic—borrowing too much light and running wild. He had no idea it was being fed from within—that Astra's own celestial mana was at its core, masked and distorted beyond recognition.
Lucien stepped forward slowly. His aura burned brighter in response to the growing tension, golden energy rippling across his shoulders like sunfire trying to break free.
"You shouldn't be standing. That spell should've drained you dry."
Astra said nothing at first.
Then, calm and sharp, came the answer:
"How?" Lucien asked, frustration mounting."As if I'd tell you, annoying bastard," Astra replied, voice low and steady.
Lucien's jaw tensed.
And then the crowd erupted.
Cheers. Gasps. Disbelief. The stands trembled with the force of it—shock, awe, adrenaline. People shouted Astra's name. Others screamed Lucien's. But none could look away.
Astra stepped forward. The shadows at his feet moved with him, seamless and smooth. His sword lifted—dark and gleaming, wrapped in the same flickering aura as the orb above.
"Lucien....You're going to learn to fear the shadows."
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
The words cut through the noise like a blade.
Lucien's golden aura flared—his domain pushing out in a sudden surge. Sunlight licked at the sky, searing, proud, unyielding.
Astra's black sun pulsed in turn. The two forces strained against each other. Light and shadow. Heat and Cold.
Astra wasn't used to this power.
His body surged, infused by a force that felt foreign and wild. Speed, strength, reflex—everything moved faster than he could think. The spell fed him like a storm beneath his skin, but control lagged behind instinct. This wasn't training. It was survival.
The Sun of Dawn—Lucien's domain—was terrifying in its simplicity. It didn't just radiate heat or light; it commandedthe battlefield. Empowered by a law Astra barely understood, it seemed to anchor Lucien in a state of perpetual advantage. Every motion Lucien made was precise, intentional, as if the very air obeyed him.
And this wasn't even his strongest hour. This wasn't noon.
Astra struck—too wide, too late.
Lucien moved like fire skipping across dry leaves.
The punch landed clean.
It tore through Astra's guard and slammed into his ribs, lifting him from the ground. Pain ripped through his side as he crashed backward, skidding across the cracked arena floor, shadows spiraling wildly to cushion the blow.
Dust rose.
The crowd roared.
His mind raced.
Lucien wasn't just stronger—he was faster, more synchronized, almost… tuned to the flow of the duel. Astra's spell gave him power, yes—but it was raw, unshaped, still settling into his frame. It was like wearing armor he hadn't trained in, blades he hadn't yet mastered.
He had to adapt.
And fast.