The saint turned his gaze back to Astra, and the pressure in the room intensified. The shadows seemed to pulse with life, reacting to the strength of those gathered. Astra could almost feel them reaching out, testing him.
His entire body tensed. He didn't know what to expect, but the path ahead of him was clear—he had to survive this, no matter the cost.
Astra stood frozen, his breath coming in shallow bursts, as the weight of Valerius' aura crushed the air around him. The room, once dimly lit, seemed to darken, the shadows in every corner of the space thickening and twisting into unnatural forms.
The air turned cold, a deep chill seeping into his bones as the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't just the presence of the saint anymore—it was something far more ancient, more terrifying.
Valerius stood still, his dark eyes watching with detached amusement as the shadows around them began to move, to coil, to writhe like living creatures. They twisted and spun, stretching to fill every inch of the room, until there was no light left.
Astra felt himself engulfed by the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest as the shadows seemed to grow thicker with every passing second.
Then, without warning, the shadows enveloped him entirely. The ground beneath his feet disappeared, and the world around him felt as if it had cracked open, pulling him into something... other. Astra's vision blurred, and before he could even think to react, he found himself standing in an entirely different place.
The room, the estate, and the powerful figures of House Shadow were gone, replaced by an endless, desolate expanse of shadows stretching to infinity.
The air here was heavier—thick with darkness that seemed to suffocate every ounce of light. His feet were still on solid ground, but it felt as though he were standing on the edge of reality itself.
He could see through the blackness better than most, thanks to his affinity for shadows, but even now, the dark felt suffocating. It was as if the shadows were more than just the absence of light—they were a presence, a weight pressing in on him, making it harder to breathe. His eyes strained to focus, but the shadows didn't relent, swirling around him, shifting in a manner that felt alive. It was a land of eternal night, one without form or substance.
His senses were overwhelmed by the profound stillness, and for the first time in his life, Astra felt truly alone, isolated in a place where even his connection to the shadows could not offer him clarity.
This was no ordinary darkness. It was as if the very nature of shadow itself had been given life—cold, harsh, and unrelenting.
And then, from the shifting darkness, a figure materialized. At first, it was indistinct—a shadow amongst shadows. But as it stepped forward, Astra's heart skipped a beat. It was him. Or rather, a version of him.
A shadowy, distorted version of himself, mirroring his every movement but with an eerie, malevolent presence.
Astra's breath hitched as the shadow-version of himself stood staring at him, its eyes gleaming with a haunting, hollow light. It was him—but twisted. Darker. Empty.
A voice cut through the silence, low and powerful, dripping with the weight of centuries. It was Valerius, but the power behind his words shook Astra to the core. His voice seemed to come from every direction, surrounding him like the very shadows themselves.
"Survive your own shadow, Astra Noctis," the saint intoned, his words echoing through the desolate landscape. "If you can last five minutes, I will harbor you. If you cannot… then die, and let House Night's legacy pass with you."
The shadows pulsed around Astra, growing heavier and more oppressive as Valerius' words settled into his mind. Astra's heart raced, his hands trembling slightly as his body tensed. The dark version of himself—the shadow—stepped closer, its form moving with an unnatural fluidity, each step bringing it closer to Astra.
Astra could feel it now—the weight of the power it held. It wasn't just a reflection of himself; it was something else, something that bore down on him with the force of a thousand unspeakable horrors.
The shadows had become tangible, corporeal, and the being before him, an extension of the darkness, held no mercy.
Astra locked eyes with the shadow-self, the gaze of his own twisted reflection holding a malevolent energy.
He could feel the presence of it, the malice seeping into him as he realized that this wasn't just a test of physical strength or skill—it was a test of his very resolve, his ability to face what he feared the most.
This was no simple battle. This was a battle against himself.
His mind raced as the shadow version of him took another step forward. It was relentless, unblinking, unfeeling—everything Astra was afraid to confront about himself, embodied in darkness.
His breath hitched again as a cold sweat began to bead on his forehead, the suffocating darkness pressing in on him from all sides. His mind flashed through every possible strategy he could think of, but none seemed to fit. How could he fight something that was a part of him?
The figure's mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, a terrible pressure built in the air as the shadow lunged at him, its form shifting into something monstrous. Astra's instinct kicked in as his training took over.
He dodged to the side, his heart hammering in his chest. He had to survive this. He had to survive this.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't just about surviving this test. It was about understanding who he was—and what he would become.
Astra's heart pounded in his chest as he stood opposite the shadowy figure of himself, a twisted reflection that mirrored his every movement with unnerving precision.
His hand tightened around the hilt of his longsword, but his grip felt unsure, trembling as his own shadow raised its blade in perfect synchrony.
The air felt thick with the weight of the moment. His shadow stood before him, its presence a darkened silhouette, one that was far more menacing than any adversary Astra had faced before. It was an imitation, yet it carried the terrifying aura of something far greater than himself.
A rank-three aura… Astra's breath caught in his throat. How the hell am I supposed to beat this?
Summoning his Nightshroud armor, Astra felt the familiar weight of the darkened steel encasing his body. It clung to him, tight and strong, but there was no comfort in its embrace tonight. His shadow did the same, its armor forming with an eerie grace, and Astra's heart skipped in dread. The shadows moved with it, as if in reverence to the being before him, the shadows themselves more solid and material in the presence of his reflection.
Then, with a sudden, violent clash, the fight began.
Astra swung first, trying to push his shadow back with a mighty blow. But his shadow's blade intercepted his with flawless precision. The shock reverberated through his arms, sending tremors down his spine.
His bones rattled as though the strike had traveled deeper, vibrating through his entire body. Astra staggered back, eyes wide with shock, feeling the sting in his muscles. It wasn't just the pain of a blow; something more insidious was happening.
Tremors were spreading through his body, a sensation of weakness creeping in, as if the very strike had made his body falter.
What the hell was that? Astra barely had time to register the question before his shadow moved again. The dark figure was faster than he had anticipated, its movements sharp and precise. A slash came toward him, and Astra barely had time to raise his sword to block.
The clash of steel rang out, but Astra's legs buckled as the impact sent a wave of dizziness through his mind. His stomach churned, his breath coming in short, jagged gasps. He stumbled back, desperate to maintain his footing. No… No, this can't be happening.
The shadow didn't relent. The next attack came at him in a blur, the blade cutting through the air with such speed that Astra barely had time to react.
The edge of the blade grazed across his shoulder, a deep, stinging gash that sent a spike of pain through him. His mind reeled, and he saw the tremors spreading from the wound, causing his muscles to twitch involuntarily.
It's like the strike itself is working against me, Astra realized with horror. I can't even keep my own body under control!
In desperation, Astra retaliated, pushing all his weight into a downward strike, hoping to land a decisive blow. His shadow parried it effortlessly.
Astra's sword was knocked from his hands in a violent, one-handed swipe, the force of the strike sending him crashing to the ground. The tremors in his limbs worsened, and he could feel himself weakening under the onslaught. The shadow stood above him, its blade raised high, ready to end the fight.
Astra's mind raced. I'm nothing but a stream on a mountain. How am I supposed to survive this?
But even as he lay on the cold ground, Astra's instincts flared. There was something inside of him that screamed to survive—to fight, no matter what. He wasn't going to die here. Not like this.
The shadow's sword descended, and Astra's body reacted before he even had time to think. He twisted at the last moment, dodging just enough for the blade to graze past him, instead of striking him clean. His breath was coming in ragged bursts, but the pain was sharp and real, grounding him in the present. He needed to move.
With what little strength he had left, Astra summoned the shadows within him. His connection to them—his bond to the night—pulled him forward, just enough to twist and slide away from the shadow's next strike. The battle wasn't over yet.
But every movement was a struggle. He wasn't faster than his shadow, and he was certainly nowhere near as strong.
His shadow's strikes were devastating, more powerful than Astra had imagined. Every time their blades clashed, the tremors deepened, spreading through his chest and arms, making his movements more sluggish.
I need to survive. I need to survive this, Astra thought, his mind scrambling. He was being hammered down, bloodied and battered, unable to get the upper hand. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his body protested. His muscles trembled with exhaustion, his breath shallow and uneven.
And yet, despite all of it, Astra realized something. He wasn't just fighting for survival. He was fighting for his legacy. He was fighting to prove he could walk the path of shadows and survive it.
His shadow's sword came down again, and Astra barely managed to raise his own to block, the force of the blow sending him staggering back. His vision blurred as the tremors continued to shake his body. Damn it, Astra. Focus.
But the pain was unbearable, the feeling of being crushed beneath the weight of this battle, this impossible task. He didn't even know how long it had been. A minute? Two? It felt like an eternity.
How long? He couldn't even hear the passage of time. All that mattered was the next strike, the next move. But as he looked into the eyes of his shadow—the exact replica of himself—he knew one thing with certainty:
If he didn't overcome this, he wouldn't make it.
Five minutes, Astra thought, his pulse quickening as his shadow drew closer, blade raised. Just five more minutes.
But his shadow, relentless and merciless, wasn't going to give him that time
Astra's body burned with every movement, his muscles aching from the relentless assault of his shadow-self. The fight had stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Each strike was met with an equally devastating counter, and Astra could feel himself growing weaker. The force of the battle was overwhelming, his body on the brink of collapse, but then—
He remembered.
The spells he had honed in his soul sea. He wasn't helpless. He was Astra Noctis—he had the power of the stars at his fingertips.
With a strained breath, Astra called upon the first spell that came to mind: Nova Flash.
"Nova Flash!"
A burst of light erupted from his palm. The intensity of the starlight flooded the room, a brilliant flare that momentarily blinded both him and his shadow.
The blinding light burned across the shadow's eyes, disorienting it for just a second. Astra staggered back, using the small window of opportunity to gain some distance.
His shadow, however, quickly recovered, its movements sharp and unrelenting.
Astra's heart raced as his legs wobbled beneath him. The pain was unbearable, but he knew he couldn't let up. He had to fight—had to survive.
His next spell came to him in a flash. His palm glowed with a shimmering light as he invoked Stardust Veil.
"Stardust Veil!"
A thin mist of glimmering stardust surrounded Astra's body, bending the light around him to obscure his form.
The veil wasn't much—certainly not enough to hide him completely—but it bought him a few precious seconds to prepare. The shadow advanced, but it was a momentary misstep.
Astra barely had time to catch his breath before the next attack came—this time from his own shadow.
"Celestial Bolt!"
A small, concentrated burst of celestial energy shot from his palm, crackling through the air like a miniature comet. The bolt of starlight whizzed toward his shadow's chest, striking it with moderate force. The bolt created a brief sizzling burn, but it wasn't enough to incapacitate the shadow. The shadow retaliated almost instantly, its blade flashing toward Astra's neck.
Astra was forced to raise his own sword in defense. The clang of their blades sounded like thunder in his ears. His body was failing him. I can't keep up...
But then, a glimmer of hope.
"Stellar Flock!"
Astra summoned a burst of ethereal starlight, and with a flick of his wrist, small, glowing birds appeared around him. They flitted in the air, their forms flickering like the last remnants of a dying star. The creatures swarmed his shadow, distracting it with their erratic movements. His shadow slashed at the birds, but they dissolved into light with every strike, momentarily breaking its focus.
It was a small victory, but it was enough to give Astra another chance to breathe. He couldn't keep this up forever, though.
"Just a little longer," Astra whispered to himself, his breath ragged.
As his shadow closed in again, Astra realized he needed something more—something faster.
"Astral Step!"
He vanished in a burst of starlight, reappearing several paces to the side. His disorientation was brief, and he managed to avoid the next blow that would have otherwise struck his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he turned to face his shadow once again.
But this time, Astra felt something shift inside of him. He wasn't just trying to survive anymore. He was going to win.
His hand extended to the sky, gathering every last ounce of starlight left in him. The energy was building, the power coursing through his veins like the very pulse of the universe itself.
"Starlight Shard!"
A blade of pure starlight formed in his hand, its edge sharp and glowing with celestial radiance. He held it steady, ready. This time, he wasn't reacting to his shadow. This time, he was going to strike first.
His shadow attacked once more, its sword coming down in a deadly arc. Astra met it with his own starlight blade, the clash resounding like a star's birth and death all at once. His shadow stumbled, its own sword shimmering under the strain.
The weight of their fight pressed down on Astra's body, and yet, he felt alive, the starlight coursing through him like an endless river.
But despite his resolve, the shadow didn't stop. It lunged again, its power greater than his, its blade swift and unyielding. Astra barely managed to deflect the blow, but the impact sent shockwaves through his body, forcing him to his knees.
It's over...
The shadow's sword hovered above him, poised for the final strike, but Astra's mind screamed.
"No! Not like this."
And then he remembered—he had one last spell.
With a strained gasp, Astra reached deep within, calling on the power of the stars one final time.
"Stellar Burst!"
The room exploded with light as celestial power detonated around him in a burst of raw energy. The force sent his shadow sprawling backward, disintegrating it in a shower of starlight.
Just before collapsing, Astra made a breakthrough, the way he was looking at magic was completely wrong
Astra collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. His body was wrecked, his vision blurred from the strain. The fight had drained everything from him, but as the shadows receded, he knew he had survived.
The test was over. And Astra Noctis had passed.
...
The Saint, Valerius Umbra, stood still in the center of the room, his piercing eyes never leaving Astra's form as the young heir lay unconscious on the floor. His expression, one usually reserved for the most disciplined of beings, was a mixture of astonishment and quiet admiration.
In all his years, Valerius had never seen someone at Astra's rank, barely a true rank one, accomplish what this young man had just done.
"Unbelievable…" Valerius muttered to himself, his voice low yet brimming with awe. The saint's fingers twitched, as if to reach out for a confirmation of the feat he had just witnessed. He looked around the room at the other bishops, but none of them could respond in any way that would lessen the incredible truth of what had occurred.
"To defeat your own shadow…" Valerius whispered again, almost to himself, though the weight of the words filled the room. "A sacred rite… and he did it without hesitation. Without the strength of a rank-two... but only a rank-one?"
His mind raced as the implications of the battle sank in. House Shadow's tradition, one held in the highest regard, demanded that each initiate face and overcome their own shadow—a shadow that was a perfect, mindless reflection of themselves, a challenge meant to test their strength of will and their magical prowess. Only those who succeeded were deemed worthy of advancing.
The shadow was a mirror of their weakness, an embodiment of every flaw they carried within. The rite was performed only when one was truly ready, often around rank two or higher.
But Astra—Astra had faced a version of himself that was far more powerful than expected.
Valerius couldn't help but notice the way the shadow had manifested at rank three, far stronger than it should have been, almost as if the very forces of nature had tempered the challenge with higher stakes.
A rank-three shadow… and Astra had beaten it with nothing more than the raw skill he possessed.
In that moment, Valerius saw something truly exceptional: the boy's innate ability with magic, his mastery of the starlight that ran through his veins, and his swordsmanship that mirrored an older, more refined style—one that most at rank-two struggled to achieve.
But it was more than that. Astra had faced the shadow with a remarkable composure, relying on not just power, but his wit, his adaptability, and an inner strength that surpassed his physical capabilities. It was like watching a star in its infancy, brimming with potential, still too young to fully realize its power but already capable of lighting the entire sky.
"Most cannot even hope to do such a thing at this stage…" Valerius continued, his voice carrying both wonder and the slightest edge of respect. His dark eyes narrowed slightly. "He defeated a shadow with a mindless, relentless drive, all while barely standing as a rank-one. To do so at this level, against such a version of himself... he is far more capable than he knows."
He turned to one of the bishops, his voice betraying his shock, "This boy… has an exceptional command over his magic. His swordsmanship, while unrefined, is still far beyond what I expected of someone at his level. This… this is a potential we cannot ignore."
Valerius's gaze returned to Astra, who was still unconscious, his face bruised but resolute. The Saint could feel the presence of the boy's power, even in this state. He had tapped into something far beyond the average noble—something cosmic, something bound to the stars.
"The question now is," Valerius spoke quietly, to no one in particular, "What will he do with it? How will House Shadow and House Night play their parts in what is to come?"
The Saint stood tall, his aura of rank-five divine power rippling in the air like a silent storm, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
Astra Noctis, the heir of House Night, had just achieved something remarkable in his trial, a feat that no one expected. And it made Valerius wonder just how much of House Night's legacy had truly survived, how much of Astra's potential had been buried, waiting to break free.
The Saint smiled faintly, an unreadable expression crossing his face. He would watch this young man closely. The last heir of House Night was a far more interesting puzzle than Valerius had first anticipated.