Astra's lips still burned from Seraphine's kiss. Her voice echoed in his skull like a cursed melody—"I'll be watching, little star." Her scent lingered in the air, floral and cold, like midnight roses grown in shadow, her soft lips. Those beautiful blue eyes. They wouldn't leave. Not even now.. It clung to his skin like guilt. Like memory. Like temptation.
It pissed him off.
He exhaled sharply, teeth clenched. "Tch."
Focus.
The only way to drown her out was to do what he always did: armor up. Not emotionally. Physically.
With a motion of his hand, dark mana surged—cold, heavy, and commanding—as the Night Shroud answered his call. It coiled around his frame like sentient shadow, slipping over him piece by piece until the full suit of armor encased him. Sleek black plate, faintly ethereal, marked with jagged, otherworldly inscriptions along the shoulders and forearms. Shadows bled from its joints as if the void itself had been woven into the steel.
He looked like a knight born not from legend, but from myth. A harbinger of the abyss.
The weight was familiar. So was the silence. It wrapped around him like a second skin—his pulse steadying as the chaotic swirl in his mind dulled. For now, at least.
He sat, the armor creaking faintly, when a knock echoed against his chamber door.
It was time.
"Finalist Astra. The arena awaits."
The moment he stepped toward the tunnel, the camera crew stirred, familiar in their quiet reverence. They knew better than to speak. Astra passed them in silence, the air thrumming with energy. The ground beneath his boots rumbled faintly—horns. Drums. Chants. The entire arena trembled as if even the stone recognized the storm brewing above.
Horns. Drums. Voices, thousands thick, screaming like a single living thing. The stone above trembled under their weight—dust falling from the ceiling like ash.
He didn't flinch.
His breath was steady, his heart… not calm, no—but excited. A strange bloom of curiosity opening inside him. A gift from his curse. Or his blessing. Sometimes it was hard to tell.
He had done everything he could to prepare. Every sleepless night, every brutal spar, every whispered lesson in the dark.
Now, he would either rise as a new star…Or fall. Hopefully, in a way that looked pretty.
He sighed.
Then the arena revealed itself.
A sea of screaming spectators spread out before him, thousands strong. Mana hung thick in the air like incense. The sky above shimmered with magical projection screens, sigils, banners, and floating lights. His name ignited across the center projector in violet and gold.
The announcer's voice boomed:
"Finalist! The upcoming star! Undefeated in his debut! Astra of Shadow!"
The crowd erupted.
Astra raised a single hand, his fingers slicing through the air like a blade. Cheers thundered, echoing like a divine chorus. But beneath the noise, Astra could feel the weight of expectation—some wanted him to fail. Others prayed he'd hold on just long enough to impress. A few, maybe, hoped for a miracle.
But Astra?
He came to win.
He turned toward House Shadow's private box and bowed deeply, shadows flickering around him. The Saints were watching. Angels, too. Perhaps even darker things. He was fighting her, after all.
Kneeling down, Astra dragged his armored gauntlet through the coarse, black sand of the arena floor. Gold trailed behind it, a fleeting shimmer in the dust.
Then—the war drums changed.
A sudden shift in rhythm. The crowd's hum turned into a rising scream of anticipation.
A single, iconic horn pierced the air—House Hunt's signal. It blared across the arena like the cry of an ancient beast awakening.
On the central projector, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows of the opposite tunnel, walking slowly, deliberately, her presence like gravity itself.
The crowd held its breath.
Like a volcano… waiting to erupt.
Astra stood, planting his long sword into the earth like a flag. "Breathe, Astra," he whispered. "Breathe."
Astra's heart quickened as he stood. He summoned his helmet into his hand. The artifact shimmered with runic edges and a low, predatory hum, like something alive. Spikes jutted from its crown, and the markings across it swirled in patterns only the dark knew.
Across the battlefield, the figure stepped into the light.
The announcer's voice returned, louder, nearly shaking the heavens.
"The Princess of Ruin! The undefeated Aster Hunt! Champion of the Tournament of War! Victor of the Life Trials of Gladriel, Royal Princess of House Hunt! "
Her hood fell.
Astra's breath caught for a moment. Not because he was stunned. But because she was everything they said. And more.
Her armor was light, elegant—crafted not of steel but of what looked like enchanted wood and silksteel alloy. Intricate vines and forest etchings ran along her chestplate, curling down her hips and gauntlets. A circlet of wood grew around her head like a crown, alive with mana.
Her eyes, though… that was what struck him.
One was a pure sapphire blue, flecked with gold. The other—an eerie, midnight purple with pinpricks of red, like a dying star collapsing.
Her skin pale, nearly luminescent. Her hair a river of silver-blonde, cascading like moonlight.
She was the most beautiful elven girl Astra had ever seen.
But that wasn't what made his breath catch.
It was the loneliness in her gaze.
It was like staring into a mirror.
Astra slowly placed his helmet on. The shadows sealed around his head with a whisper, his vision narrowing through the dark visor. Across from him, Aster did the same—her wooden helm elegant, smooth, a crown atop it like a queen of the wilds.
She summoned her two short swords—elegant, leaf-bladed things infused with nature's wrath.
The air around her shimmered. Her presence surged like a storm beneath still waters.
Astra could feel it.
His aura grew. It was no longer the pressure of a hopeful. No. It was the weight of someone who had touched the abyss and returned.
A mighty, flooding river of shadow and will.
And Aster?
She enhanced herself without drama—without even a chant. Ambient life mana rushed to her, threads of green and gold wrapping her frame in blessing. Her aura expanded—fluid, vast, overwhelming.
If Astra was a mighty river bursting through a dam...Then Aster was the flooded lake that dam had failed to hold.
The Rank Four Bishop a demigod floated high above the field, his voice laced with sacred mana as he declared:
"Finalists. You stand before the eyes of your realms, your houses, and the Angels above. Fight until your opponent cannot. Bring glory and honor… or fall with pride."
He vanished, a blink of light.
Astra gripped his sword. Low stance. The air around him shifted—the shadows stirred. His blood sang.
Aster moved too, her blades humming with life force, stance light, deadly.
A horn blared.
This was it.
The Finals had begun.
The moment the horn sounded, time fractured.
Aster moved first.
She didn't lunge—she flowed. A ripple through the air, barely more than a breath, but the distance between them vanished like dew under flame. Her feet whispered across the black sand, not a grain disturbed. Twin short swords circled her in lazy arcs, silver edges trailing strands of mana so fine they looked like light unraveling.
No tension. No rage. Just the poised indifference of a predator that's never needed to try.
Astra surged forward.
Shadows exploded from him, spiraling into his sword as he gripped it in both hands. His steps were heavier, rooted deep—each one leaving a crater in the sand. His aura clung to him like a second skin, pulsing with dense, brutal mana.
Where Aster was wind, Astra was gravity.
The first clash wasn't clean.
It was collision.
Aster struck low—left blade feinting for his hip, right slicing down from above. Astra raised his sword to parry, but the left twisted mid-strike, hooking under his guard. He pivoted, just barely catching it with the flat of his sword before launching a counter-kick.
She spun with it, letting the impact carry her, skating backward across the sand. Her foot barely touched down before she launched again, blades whirling in an arc of silver flame.
Astra blocked both with a crossed guard—but staggered. Her blades didn't strike with strength, but precision. The vibration jolted through his wrists, subtle and cruel.
A tactic.
She wanted him off. Off-balance. Off-rhythm.
He growled and responded with raw force, slamming his blade in a wide arc. A pulse of shadow followed—turning black sand to glass in its wake.
She wasn't there.
She'd already moved.
Behind him.
She hadn't dodged—she'd read it before he swung.
"Predictable," she murmured. Not mockingly. Like a teacher correcting form.
Astra twisted, striking back with the pommel.
She ducked. Kicked his ankle. Slipped under his guard and sliced upward across his back—sparks flying as her blade skated across armor. She didn't try to pierce it.
She wasn't aiming to kill.
She was testing.
Still bored.
Astra spun, sword carving a horizontal slash. She leaned back—nearly horizontal—letting it scream past her chest, then twisted and planted a foot against his chest.
He flew.
Tumbled, rolled, landed on one knee, coughing dust.
She tilted her head.
"Come now, Shadow. Is that all?"
He didn't answer.
But something changed.
Astra exhaled—slow and steady. His aura tightened, shadows drawing in close. His stance shifted—lower, looser. Less brute force. More control.
When he moved again, it wasn't a charge.
It was a hunt.
"Focus, Astra. Focus," he muttered.
She blinked as his blade feinted left—then vanished. Reformed mid-strike on the right. She parried, barely. The edge clipped her pauldron.
The impact was real.
She narrowed her eyes. Smiled.
"Oh?"
The fight changed.
She pressed harder—twin blades weaving in overlapping arcs, a dance of offense and defense. Her footwork grew sharper. Cleaner. Less drifting. More intent.
Astra met her, strike for strike.
Not with grace.
But with grit.
He stopped chasing her blades—started cutting the rhythm. Aimed for the spaces between. Forced her back. One step. Then two.
Each hit came closer. Each dodge, tighter.
Aster's swords flared—dark green and gold runes igniting along their edges. Strikes left afterimages of leaves and sparks. She sliced diagonally, then kicked up a gust of wind with her heel.
Astra ducked, shadows shielding his eyes, and caught her ankle mid-air.
Her eyes widened.
He twisted.
Slammed her into the ground.
She rebounded fast, stabbing a blade into the sand to vault backward. Dirt clung to her cheek. A thin red line ran from her lip.
She grinned.
It was real now.
He was learning.
Astra pressed the advantage, shadows billowing in his wake. A downward cleave aimed for her shoulder. She caught it, but the weight drove her knee into the sand.
"Good," she whispered.
She shoved him back with a pulse of wind.
They reset—bloodied, breathing hard.
But this time—
She was alive.
Eyes bright. Shoulders loose. Blades twitching with energy.
"You're not so boring," she said, almost to herself. "You look... familiar."
"How so?" Astra asked, stepping forward.
She studied him. "Hmm. Oh... it's you. The little thief. With the petty magic tricks."
His breath hitched.
No. It can't be. That gaze… that monstrous pressure from before. She was there that night. She hasn't even gotten serious yet gods.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, tightening his grip.
"Oh, I'm sure you don't," she replied, amused.
Why's she talking? Why's she… entertaining me? Astra thought. She's supposed to be cold. Distant. So why—
He vanished.
A blink.
A tear in the veil.
He reappeared above her—blade descending like a comet. All his weight. All his will.
All his fury.
She laughed. Loud and clear.
Raised both blades in an X.
The impact cracked the sand beneath them, sending black-gold ripples outward like a starburst.
it swallowed the arena.
The crowd roared.
Astra ducked a swipe, shadows curling around him like smoke.
Her footwork's too loose for a duelist, he thought, deflecting another strike. But her blade control? Tight. Deadly. Lucien's a better swordsman—cleaner, more traditional... but she's not supposed to be a close-range fighter at all.
Aster moved like someone trained to kill from a distance but bored enough to get her hands dirty.
He pressed in again.
His shadow twitched—then struck. A faint shimmer of water magic slid up his blade, forcing her to parry off-line. He caught her elbow with his free hand and drove forward—
She vanished.
A low sweep nearly took out his legs. He jumped, twisted, and aimed a downward slash—only for her to sidestep, palm hitting his chest, sending him skidding across the sand again.
That rhythm. She doesn't fight in patterns... she baits you into creating your own and then destroys it. But...
He grinned despite the pain in his ribs.
I'm learning.
Astra's curse burned through his veins—Curiosity unraveling her style piece by piece. His Shadow Dance adjusted mid-move, subtly mimicking her posture, adopting fragments of her tactics.
She drops her left shoulder right before lunging. Her mana flares an instant before her foot moves. Her strikes always land within seven heartbeats. She counts them.
He matched her step for step now.
Hit for hit.
He wasn't winning.
But he was getting closer.
Aster's grin returned—this time sharp. Pleased.
Then her voice came, low and layered with mana.
"Alright, little shadow. I'll stop playing now."
She leapt back.
Her aura surged.
A wave of green-gold mana exploded from her chest like sunlight bursting through stormclouds. The arena trembled as vines erupted from beneath the sand, curling into thick roots and flowering thorns. Trees twisted upward unnaturally fast, forming a dense canopy that shrouded the sky.
A lush, breathing forest bloomed in seconds—living, growing, listening.
Astra's eyes widened, sweat dripping down his brow.
"This... isn't a domain spell," he muttered. "But damn is it large."
He crouched in the center of the underbrush, breathing shallow. No sound. No scent.
She was gone.
"Can you survive the hunt, dear little shadow?"
Her voice echoed like a whisper through the woods.
Then came the first arrow.
Astra barely dodged. The second grazed his shoulder.
Then came twelve more.
He dashed through the foliage, shadows swirling defensively, trying to absorb some of the hits. Arrows laced with wind mana screamed past his face. Vines snapped out to entangle him. Earth surged up to trip him, while bursts of waterpressure sprayed from hidden roots, blinding and slowing him.
The crowd roared like a storm above the canopy.
She had never used her bow in a duel before.
Not once.
Astra's heart pounded.
"If it was me before Lucien... she would've murdered me in a heartbeat. Truly convenient that I ended up the seventh seed. How strange..."
Even now, a piece of his mind was unraveling threads. Patterns. Plots.
But survival came first.
He sprinted. Dove. His shadows lashed out, trying to deflect. He formed a wall of water magic, curving like a dome—but it barely slowed her down. Her arrows curved, split, adapted.
He was being hunted.
No—not hunted.
Exterminated.
That gaze. It pressed down on him like a beast. Watching. Waiting.
"Damn," Astra whispered between ragged breaths. "She's really taking me seriously now."
He slammed a shadow into the ground, boosting himself into the air and using water and wind to twist mid-air, dodging a triple volley—one of which still nicked his leg.
I can't find her.
She was weaving through the trees. Using her mana to distort space, sound, light.
The perfect predator.
"So this is how the great Aster Hunt fights when she's confronted by a decent opponent..." he said aloud, voice charged with mana. "How disappointing."
Silence.
Then—CLANK.
A fist slammed into his Helmet.
He was airborne before he even registered the movement.
Branches broke beneath him. His body hit the earth with a sickening thud, vines snapping around his limbs, trapping him in place.
Aster stepped through the underbrush, eyes glowing faintly, her bow nowhere in sight.
"Such bold words... from a little lost shadow."
Her eyes gleamed like a razors-edge.
Astra's vision blurred. He could feel the pressure collapsing in around him. His mana flickered wildly.
I'm gonna lose.
No.
He roared.
His shadows surged, breaking the vines. He flared his mana—light magic erupting from his chest in a violent pulse, blinding and loud. Trees around him exploded into ash and steam as the burst expanded.
He dropped to one knee, panting.
The forest hissed.
But she was gone again.
Then—
A thread.
Aster's thread.
His curse snapped onto it—barely. A glimmer of presence in a sea of green.
"There you are," he whispered.
He saw her darting between deep-rooted trees, using her bow mid-movement, barely touching the ground. Her body weaving with the forest. A part of it. A phantom.
She's blending with the underbrush… and masking her movements with decoy mana trails.
Astra's hands trembled.
She's nimble. Agile. Ridiculously efficient. But this isn't even her full power.
He knew.
He felt it.
She was holding back—testing his limits.
And still a small mistake and he almost lost. she nearly broke him.
He exhaled.
Long. Focused.
"Alright," he murmured. "Time to push her."
His hands came together.
His shadows wrapped around his limbs, the heat of the Curse of Curiosity glowing faintly on his soul.
Mana swirled violently.
"Shadows… heed my call."
The shadows around him pulsed. Obedient, Fearful.
"Bless my domain with thy leechrous might."
He felt it then. The shadows latching on. To him. To the world. Mana bled from the air, from his skin, from the surroundings—and began rising into a dark orb of shadow. Rank Two aura curled around it. Heavy. Dense. Watchful.
"Veil me. Protect me. Guide me."
He felt it bloom.
power surged within him,
"Oh, Corrupting Black Moon…"
Then—darkness fell.
The forest dimmed, as if the sun itself had blinked.The shadows populating the forest grew deeper and darker.
Above him, a black orb pulsed into existence. A false moon. Hungering. Radiating cold power.
His domain.
"Let's see how you hunt in the dark," Astra said softly, eyes glowing violet beneath the eerie moonlight.
The Black Moon had risen.
The crowd erupted.
"A second domain spell??! At Rank One??""Is this the birth of Sahara's genius!?"Panic, awe, and disbelief rippled like a tidal wave through the stands.
And there, in the forest, stood Astra—a vision of dread and majesty. Clad in dark, spiked armor that pulsed with liquid shadow, he looked less like a boy and more like a myth come alive. Above him loomed a black moon, vast and silent, orbiting wherever he moved.
It was as if the forest itself knelt. Every tree bowed, every breeze stilled. The ground warped, saturated in his presence. A domain that shouldn't exist at his level. A Rank Two aura radiated from it—twisted, regal, impossible.
A voice broke the silence.
"My oh my... a second domain spell just for me?""How flattering."
Aster's voice carried from the shadows, teasing, melodic. Hidden in the trees, her mismatched eyes shimmered—one bright green, the other molten gold—visible even behind her helmet. She was smiling. And for once, the loneliness in her gaze seemed distant.
Astra's own smile tugged at his lips beneath the mask. He turned his head just slightly—to where she stood cloaked by bark and breath.
Aster almost flinched.His violet eyes pierced the shadows.
"You know," Astra spoke low, voice laced with mana and mischief,"Many would consider this flirting, my dear princess.""Why don't you go on ahead and show me your true strength now?""I'd wager to say... I've earned it, don't you think?"
A beat of silence.
Then Aster moved.
She leapt from the treetops in a graceful arc, dismissing her helmet midair. Golden hair flowed like sunlight through leaves, her radiant smile dazzling beneath the canopies.
"Maybe… if you survive this," she said sweetly.
She landed without a sound.
Astra removed his helmet too, his face pale beneath the faint glow of the black moon, but his smirk just as sharp.
The air shifted.
Her aura surged.
Astra's instincts screamed.
"What... what the hell?"
A pulse of paradox hit him like a wave.
Rot. Growth. Death. Rebirth.Two opposing forces—natural enemies—coiled together inside Aster's body like twin suns caught in orbit. His domain flickered, trembling beneath her presence.
Then he saw it.
Everything outside his domain began to die.Leaves crumbled. Grass blackened. Trees aged and twisted.
And then—it all grew back.Lush. New. Radiant.
Then again—it died.Then bloomed.
Over and over.
Astra's domain began to shrink, the barrier closing in on him, losing ground with every breath.
Aster didn't move. She just smiled.
And that was what terrified him most.
"Stand," Astra whispered.
The word rang like a command through the world.Mana laced every syllable—his will pressed into reality.
The black moon pulsed once.His domain stabilized.It stopped shrinking.
Aster blinked, then chuckled in delight.
"Okay, fine, oh shadow…" she purred, stepping forward without fear, her mismatched eyes gleaming, "…since you so kindly asked"
She raised her hand.
Mana surged like a storm above a sleeping sea.
"You shall receive."
And the world broke open.
Aster's smile widened, her voice a whisper of velvet and promise.
Then she moved.
No grand flourish. No chant. No weapon drawn.
Just her mana—roaring to life like a tidal wave cracking against reality.
Astra braced— and was instantly on the back foot.
She came at him without hesitation, her speed unnatural, boosted by the pulsing glow of her left eye. From it surged waves of blue mana, life-aspect, each step she took revving her body further—strength, speed, clarity, regeneration, all soaring beyond what should've been possible.
"She's enhancing herself on the fly," Astra realized, weaving through a flash of vines and air-blades aimed straight for his throat. "Like a living mana circuit—she's rewriting her own limits!"
He countered—shadows coalescing into blades, water slicing like whips of glass, his domain reinforcing his every movement. The Black Moon above pulsed, strengthening his footing, his instincts, his vision.
It wasn't enough.
From her left eye, Midnight purple with specks of red, the red glowed with intense fervor—deep, virulent, alive in the wrong way—poured forth. Every pulse of that mana corroded the space around him. His shadow constructs withered. The water in his blades evaporated into metallic mist. Even the light dimmed, not by darkness—but by decay.
Aster didn't just fight.
She dismantled.
"Rot and rebirth… she's using both at once…"
Astra grit his teeth and lunged forward, his armor screeching as he closed the gap. He aimed a crushing knee toward her ribs.
Aster let it land—then smiled as her body healed mid-impact, muscles reknitting, bones flexing, veins humming.
Then she twisted.
Her palm slammed into his chest. Magic exploded—not concussive, not elemental. Something deeper. Astra was launched back, skidding through the blackened soil, gasping as his ribs flared with pain.
The crowd gasped in disbelief.
"She's outpacing him.""She hasn't even drawn a weapon—!""What kind of monster is she?!"
Astra stood, coughing once. Blood trailed from the edge of his lips. His Black Moon circled above, still pulsing strong.
But Aster—Aster was growing stronger. With every second, her mana stabilized, deepened, harmonized. Her body shimmered with that life-aspect glow, but her aura reeked of entropy, of things not meant to coexist.
"She should be tearing herself apart," Astra thought. "But she's not. She's controlling both perfectly. "
He dashed forward, trying to press the advantage of proximity—shadows writhing at his heels.
Aster responded effortlessly.
A sweep of her leg sent vines lashing from the ground. A twist of her finger corroded the metal of his gauntlet mid-swing. And with each clash, she seemed more attuned—like she was syncing to his rhythm, outpacing his improvisation.
Astra roared.
Shadow and light burst around him. His curse of curiosity flared, instincts sharpening to inhuman levels. Every twitch of her muscle, every flicker of mana—he saw it.
And still—he couldn't catch her.
She was toying with him.
And yet, not mocking.
Testing.
Matching his pressure with growing intensity—like she'd been starved for a real fight, and now, finally, she was waking up.
Suddenly he was face to face with her, he couldn't even react
Asters eyes shined brightly as she grinned and leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear.
"Come on, little shadow… I know you're not done."
Then—
Boom.
A blast of rot and life detonated point-blank, hurling Astra into the air.
He crashed through lush gardens of asters spell, tumbling through brambles of his own making. His armor hissed, decaying in patches, and healing just as fast under the Black Moon's pulse.
He coughed, spit blood, eyes wide.
"She hasn't even cast her domain spell yet…"
And still, she was winning.