The massive stone doors of the Arkanveil Ancestral Hall stood open, bathed in divine light from the mana crystals embedded in the ceiling. Ancient runes carved into the marble columns pulsed with quiet power, remnants of protections laid by generations of family mages.
All core members and high-ranking branch heads were seated in concentric circles, their formal robes bearing the family crest. The air buzzed with anticipation and the subtle currents of competing ambitions.
At the head seat sat a serene man wrapped in ceremonial robes—Grandfather Dorian Arkanveil, calm and composed. Silver hair framed a face etched with wisdom and hardship, yet his eyes remained sharp as steel. But even serenity couldn't hide the quiet pride in his eyes as he looked toward his grandson. The boy had exceeded even his most ambitious expectations.
Beside him stood Lucien's father, Raelan Arkanveil, arms crossed, face unreadable. The Main Branch head's reputation for unwavering discipline was legendary, but those who knew him well caught the slight tension in his shoulders—concern for his son mingled with fierce pride.
Whispers swirled among the younger generation gathered below, envious glances and calculating stares directed at the slender youth standing at attention in the center.
"Did you hear his combat scores?"
"They say he completed the simulation in half the expected time..."
"He's still only fifteen and half , though."
"Age means nothing to talent like that."
They all quieted as the official announcement echoed through the chamber, delivered by Elder Vara, whose voice carried despite her fragile appearance.
"You will be undertaking the Arkanveil Youth Trial—a C-rank Shadow-attributed Portal. Team composition has been decided."
Eyes turned to the projection panel in the air, shimmering mana particles forming names and ranks in gleaming script.
"Team Leader: Lucien Arkanveil.
Members: Elric Thorne, Danae Arkanveil, Calen Arkanveil, Lyra Arkanveil, Rhys Arkanveil."
A murmur rippled through the assembly. It was rare for an outsider like Elric to participate in family trials, rarer still for such a young member to lead.
Elric stood beside Lucien, taller now—15 years and 4 months old. His dark hair had grown longer, tied back in a practical knot, and the shadows under his feet flickered unnaturally, responding to his moods. The training years had hardened him, chiseled away boyish softness to reveal sharp angles and watchful eyes. His Trait had evolved into:
[Shadow Cast – C Rank]
Allows manipulation of shadows within a 10-meter radius, can bind or shape them into tools/weapons.
He had reached Level 21, fully into D-Rank, an accomplishment that had silenced many who had questioned Lucien's choice of companion.
The others were between Levels 21 and 23—each talented in their own right, but none held the gravity Lucien exuded. Danae, a defensive specialist with her [Arcane Barrier] trait; Calen, whose [Eagle Eye] could spot the slightest movement in darkness; Lyra with her [Phantom Step] ability to move silently; and Rhys, whose [Mana Pulse] could disrupt enemy attacks. A balanced team, carefully selected.
Yet they all orbited Lucien like planets around a crimson sun. At fifteen years and nine months, he had already reached Level 25—the threshold between D and C rank. His growth had been meteoric, unrelenting.
Grandfather Dorian's voice broke the silence. "The trial begins at dawn. Prepare yourselves accordingly." His eyes lingered on Lucien. "Remember, young heir—leadership isn't measured in victories alone, but in the growth of those you lead."
Lucien bowed, perfect in form and depth. "I understand, Grandfather."
As the assembly dispersed, Raelan approached his son. No words of encouragement, just a firm hand on Lucien's shoulder and a measuring look.
"Don't disappoint me," he said simply.
Lucien met his father's gaze unflinchingly. "I never have."
---
C-Rank Dungeon: Shadow Catacombs
The portal shimmered black-purple as the team entered, its surface rippling like disturbed water. The transition left a chill on their skin, the momentary disorientation of dimensional travel quickly passing as their training took hold.
The air was cold and thin, shadows flickering unnaturally along the stone walls. Ancient burial niches lined the corridors, most empty but some containing remains that occasionally shifted when no one was looking directly at them.
It was a Shadow Attribute Dungeon—every monster lurking in darkness, blending with the void. Perfect for ambushes, for creatures that fed on fear and hesitation.
"Status check," Lucien commanded, his voice calm but carrying authority beyond his years.
"All systems operational," Danae replied, her barrier already a faint shimmer around the group.
"Mana levels stable," added Rhys, his sensor bracelet glowing with data.
Elric didn't speak, but the shadows at his feet stretched toward Lucien in acknowledgment, a silent affirmation of readiness.
Lucien nodded, eyes scanning the darkness, picking out patterns others missed. His [Adaptation] trait allowed him to see heat signatures even in absolute darkness, giving him an advantage most shadow hunters would kill for.
"Elric, left flank. Lyra and Rhys, rotate the formation on my count. Calen, watch the ceiling. Danae, keep your barriers low and mobile," Lucien ordered.
He didn't draw his blade once during the initial encounters.
He simply commanded—eyes like twin rubies glowing faintly in the darkness. Each instruction precise, each formation shift timed perfectly to counter the dungeon's threats.
Shadow Crawlers emerged from walls, their elongated limbs reaching for the team only to be intercepted by precise strikes. Void Wraiths howled as they materialized, their banshee screams cut short by coordinated attacks.
Every member of the team moved with fluid synchronicity. Elric's shadows slashed like obsidian blades, Danae's barriers flashed at critical moments, Calen called targets with unerring accuracy, while Lyra and Rhys struck with devastating combination attacks.
Monsters fell like scattered mist under their coordinated assault.
"He's barely using his own abilities," Calen whispered to Danae during a brief respite. "It's like he's... testing us."
"Or training us," she replied, watching Lucien with newfound respect. "Grandfather said leadership isn't just about victory."
By the time they reached the boss room, three hours and twenty-seven chambers later, even the shadows themselves seemed to hesitate in Lucien's presence. The dungeon had thrown progressively more difficult challenges at them, but Lucien's strategies had adapted with uncanny foresight.
Whispers passed between party members as they prepared for the final encounter.
"He's... terrifying," Rhys muttered, checking his depleted mana reserves.
"Is this how the original heir was supposed to be?" Danae whispered, recalling family histories of Arkanveil prodigies.
"He's more than that," Elric said quietly, shadows coiling protectively around his arms. "He's a born sovereign."
Lucien stood before the massive obsidian doors leading to the boss chamber, reading inscriptions others couldn't see. His training under the Arkanveil elders had included ancient languages and forgotten runes.
"The chamber houses a Shadow Monarch," he announced. "C-rank, but with potential fluctuation to B-rank if we don't control the battle space. Rhys, prepare disruptive pulses for its summoning ability. Elric, your shadows will be crucial—they can bind its limbs while we target the core."
He turned, his crimson eyes sweeping over the team. "This is what we've trained for. Trust your abilities, and trust each other."
They nodded, tension and determination written across their faces.
Lucien placed his hand on the door, channeling mana into the ancient mechanism. The doors began to swing inward, revealing a vast chamber where darkness pooled like liquid night.
Suddenly—
Just as they stepped across the threshold... the portal gate behind them pulsed red.
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
"Intrusion," he muttered.
The defensive runes around the portal entrance were flaring—someone had forced entry into an active trial. Impossible without high-level clearance or...
Without warning—a ripple tore through the air, and a black blade flashed straight toward Lucien's heart. The attack came not from the boss chamber ahead but from a spatial tear that opened directly behind him.
He twisted instantly, his reflexes honed by thousands of hours of training, but the blade still nicked his shoulder—first blood. The cut burned unnaturally, the weapon clearly poisoned.
A tall figure cloaked in jagged black gear stepped from the spatial tear, face masked with an expressionless obsidian faceplate. The armor bore no insignia, but the style was unmistakable to those who studied recent conflicts.
B-Rank Assassin – Affiliation: Liberation Organization
Target: Lucien Arkanveil
"Scatter!" Lucien barked, instantly recognizing that keeping the team clustered would make them easy targets.
The assassin moved like liquid night, pivoting toward Rhys first—identifying him as the team's disruptor. A shadow blade materialized in the assassin's left hand, slashing through Rhys's defenses and sending him flying into a stone column with a sickening crack.
Danae frantically erected a barrier around the injured Rhys, but the assassin flicked a shadow knife that shattered her magical construct like glass, the fragments dissolving into motes of broken light.
Calen fired three precision arrows, but the assassin moved between them as if they traveled in slow motion. Lyra attempted to flank with her [Phantom Step], but a casual backhand sent her tumbling across the chamber floor.
Elric, eyes wide with fury and fear, summoned every shadow within his radius, managing to bind one of the assassin's arms—but not for long. The darkness around the intruder's body pulsed, and Elric's control shattered, the backlash sending him to his knees.
"You're interrupting a sanctioned trial," Lucien spoke coldly, showing no fear despite the blood trickling down his arm. "The Arkanveil family will hunt you to the ends of the continent for this."
The assassin tilted their masked head. "That assumes you'll have a family left to avenge you, young heir." The voice was deliberately distorted, impossible to identify. "The Liberation Organization sends its regards. The old powers must fall for the new world to rise."
Lucien's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes—a coldness that hadn't been there before, a calculating fury that seemed too ancient for his young face.
"So it begins..." he whispered, almost to himself.
The shadows around him began to bend unnaturally, not responding to Elric's power but to something deeper, something that seemed to call to the very essence of the dungeon itself.
The assassin hesitated for the first time, sensing a change in the battlefield's energy.
"[Flow of Adaptation --second form Crimson Shadow]," Lucien intoned, naming an ability none of his teammates had seen before.
The blood from his wounded shoulder didn't fall to the ground but instead hovered in the air, darkening from bright red to deep crimson black. It spread outward in tendrils, merging with the dungeon shadows but remaining under his absolute control.
The assassin cursed and launched forward with blinding speed, twin blades aimed to end the threat before whatever technique Lucien was channeling could complete.
But Lucien's eyes blazed like twin suns in the darkness.
"You made three critical mistakes," he said, voice eerily calm as the blood-shadow tendrils began to solidify around him. "First, you attacked during a trial where the dungeon's shadow affinity amplifies my abilities. Second, you injured my team—people under my protection."
The assassin was almost upon him now, blades gleaming with deadly purpose.
"And third," Lucien continued, a grim smile forming, "you assumed I was merely the heir apparent, not understanding what that truly means."
The shadow-blood construct suddenly exploded outward, forming not just a shield but countless razor-sharp spears that filled the chamber. The assassin twisted and dodged with inhuman grace, but there were too many angles of attack, too many spears moving with intelligent precision.
One pierced the assassin's shoulder, another their thigh. Not fatal blows, but enough to disrupt their perfect movement.
The assassin ripped a device from their belt—an emergency extraction tool. "This isn't over, heir child. The world is changing, and your family's grip on power is already loosening."
A haze of spatial energy began to form around the intruder.
Lucien flicked his wrist, sending a final spear of crimson shadow through the assassin's hand, pinning the device to the floor and disrupting the extraction spell.
"You won't escape that easily," Lucien said, the temperature in the chamber dropping further as his power continued to build. "I have questions that require answers."
The assassin looked around frantically, realizing he was trapped. With a gesture of desperation, he reached for another device hidden in their armor—
But before Lucien could react, Elric's shadow suddenly lashed out from below, wrapping around the assassin's neck and arms with surprising strength.
"I won't let you hurt him," Elric growled, blood trickling from his nose with the effort of controlling such powerful shadows.