Astra lay sprawled on his bed, the dim glow of his mana device illuminating his face as he scrolled through news articles, comments, and forum threads. The mana network was ablaze with discussions about him—his technique, his finesse, the way he dismantled five of House Shadow's top contenders with an almost casual grace.
But that wasn't the only thing people were talking about.
He swallowed, his face warming slightly as he read through the more… forward comments.
"Those curls… those eyes… gods, I'd let him break my stance any day."
"How is someone that pretty also a monster on the battlefield? Unfair."
"I just KNOW he smells good after a fight."
Astra shut his eyes for a moment, exhaling sharply through his nose. Some of these women had no shame. Still, he had to admit... he looked sick in that video. The sweat glistening on his skin, the sharp angles of his face under the flickering light—yeah, he understood the hype.
But beyond his appearance, something else made his pulse quicken—his growth. Watching himself move, counter, and dominate five skilled fighters made him realize just how much he'd improved.
"Damn," he thought, eyes scanning the footage again. "I used to joke about being a genius, but… maybe I actually am one?"
He smirked, shaking his head at the thought. Genius or not, the tournament was tomorrow, and he had work to do.
Astra spent the next day loosening up, eating well, and trying his best to ignore the constant stares. Everywhere he went—the training halls, the dining areas, even the damn corridors—people stared. Some whispered, some openly gawked, and others just nodded in quiet acknowledgment.
The news had blown up about the rank one tournament, hyping it as one of the most competitive in recent history. Supposedly, this year's lineup was stacked—prodigies, hidden talents, and monsters lurking in the ranks.
Astra didn't really care.
Comparison was the thief of joy. He'd learned that the hard way. It didn't matter who else was strong or what the expectations were. He just had to win.
The main estate hall of House Shadow was a maelstrom of tension and power. Mana clashed invisibly, the air thick with the conflicting auras of Saints, Rank Fours, and high-ranking nobility. Even without a single word spoken, status was being asserted.
The hall itself was colossal, the Tegal Throne Room—named after the founder of House Shadow—was built to impress and intimidate in equal measure. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, woven with deep violet mana threads that shimmered like constellations. The walls were dark obsidian, inlaid with shifting silver veins, a living reminder of the house's dominion over the shadows. Enchanted torches burned cold purple flames, flickering against the polished floors of black stone, reflecting ghostly figures back at those who walked upon them.
At the far end, atop an elevated dais, sat the Throne of Umbral Dominion. It was less a seat and more an embodiment of darkness itself—not sculpted but shaped from pure shadow. At times, it looked solid. Other times, it appeared as if one could fall right through it into an abyss.
Astra adjusted the black and silver tunic he wore, glancing around the room as he walked in with Vesper and Velora.
Even they, who had spent years within House Shadow, fell into an uneasy silence.
"Gods," Vesper muttered, running a hand through his silver-streaked black hair, his muscular frame stiff with tension. "I forget how many Saints this house actually has until they all gather like this."
Velora, in her usual deep violet cloak, nudged him with an elbow. "Shush, idiot. You think they can't hear you?"
"They probably can," Astra smirked, keeping his voice low. "Vesper just likes to live dangerously."
Vesper grinned. "If I don't keep things entertaining, who will?"
Velora rolled her eyes but remained wary. Her gaze flicked toward the dozens of high-ranking figures standing in sharp silence. The estate hall was not just filled with House Shadow's elite—envoys, foreign dignitaries, and even warriors from other factions had been invited.
Astra let his own gaze wander until he spotted a familiar figure.
Alistair.
The older man stood near one of the towering obsidian pillars, clad in black and silver robes, his arms folded. His platinum hair and striking blue eyes marked him as one of House Shadow's distinguished saints.
When Astra met his gaze, Alistair gave the barest nod—a rare sign of approval.
Astra smiled back.
Even in this den of wolves and shadows, it felt good to know there was someone watching his back.
Then, the atmosphere shifted.
The shadows froze.
Astra barely had time to react before an unseen force rippled through the throne room. It wasn't mana—not exactly. It was something older, heavier.
The shadows, once shifting lazily like living things, halted mid-motion. Every flicker of darkness, every wisp of umbral energy, suddenly stood at attention.
A silent reverence.
Then they walked in.
Three angels.
The first was a tall male, his eyes dark as the abyss itself, his short pale hair pristine. He moved with an eerie stillness, his very presence a void of boundless depth.
The second led the group—taller, gallant, and elegant. His purple hair shimmered beneath the enchanted flames, his gaze carrying an amused yet unreadable sharpness. His eyes had a purplish gleam, one that saw far more than he let on.
The third was a woman—small but breathtaking. Her dark hair and darker eyes seemed to swallow the light around her.
Not a single shadow stirred.
For a long moment, no one in the hall moved.
Then, in perfect unison, everyone bowed.
Even the Saints. Even the Rank Fours.
Astra had never bowed before. Not like this. But something in his very being commanded him to lower his head.
The leader of House Shadow took his place upon the Throne of Umbral Dominion.
Astra felt his pulse quicken.
Even though the throne had been empty for what felt like an age, it did not feel unfamiliar.
The shadows trembled—not in fear, but in something Astra had never seen before.
Reverence.
Awe.
They danced.
For the first time in his life, Astra saw the shadows rejoice. They twisted and twirled in celebration, flickering in harmony like a long-lost melody.
And then, the angel spoke.
His voice was leisurely, untouched by mana yet impossibly sharp—a voice that could carve through reality itself.
"Good evening… I won't keep you long. We all have matters to attend to—preparations, rituals, meetings. So, I'll say this."
His eyes honed in, and this time, mana surged.
The air shook.
The shadows trembled.
"It is time for Shadow to move up in this world. We have lurked far too long. It is time to reclaim power."
And with that, he dissolved into the shadows, leaving behind an absence that felt more present than his presence itself.
The two remaining angels rose, moving toward the saints, speaking in hushed yet absolute tones.
Astra exhaled, realizing only now how tense his body had been.
And then, for a fleeting moment, he felt it.
A the shadows froze for a flicker around him, the angels attention was on him for a fleeting moment....
It was as if the main angel had spoken to him.
Astra sat down at a long wooden table in a quiet corner of the estate's private dining room. The table was laden with all manner of delicacies—cooked meats, exotic fruits, and rich sauces that clung to the plates like shimmering nectar. The aroma was rich, yet Astra's focus was on something else. His hands shook slightly as he reached for a golden goblet, and for a moment, he took in the soft, ambient light that flickered from the stone chandeliers above.
The room had an elegant, darkened feel—shadows stretching along the walls, as though they were alive and watching. Astra could feel their presence, but he no longer flinched when they lingered too close.
As he ate, Vesper slid into the seat next to him, leaning in with a playful grin. "Enjoying your moment of peace, Astra?"
Astra smirked, his violet eyes narrowing. "For now. But it's been a long time since I've had a meal that wasn't interrupted."
Vesper chuckled, his muscular frame stretching as he casually lounged in the chair. "Well, that's about to change." He motioned toward the table, where the contestants from House Shadow were gathering. "You want to know who will also be competing for us right? "
Astra followed his gaze and saw three Rank Twos first, before the Rank Threes caught his eye.
Vesper leaned in. "Those are the best House Shadow has to offer. You'd better pay attention."
"Darky, Umbra a Shadow Mage and my cousin," he had a tall, pale figure with jet-black hair and eyes like endless voids. His aura of shadow seemed to swallow light itself, cold and ominous. Umbra hailed from the Umbra bloodline, known for its mastery over the deepest shadows.Vesper muttered, "He's a strategist—quiet, but deadly. If you can't see the shadows, you're already lost."
"Vox Tenebris a Darkness Mage,hes one of Bishop Alistairs linage" he had a figure cloaked in midnight robes, his black hair long and flowing, and golden eyes that glowed faintly. His aura bent light, casting everything in oppressive darkness. A Nezerac bloodline mage, Tenebris controlled the essence of absenceitself.Vesper gave a low whistle. "Tenebris's magic will leave you choking on the void. Stay aware."
"Glacies Nivra shes an Ice Mage," she had a statuesque figure with porcelain skin and icy blue eyes, wearing silver armor that hummed with frost. His presence chilled the room as his frost magic radiated from him. Descended from the Tenebrous line, he could freeze anything in his path."Precise and cold," Vesper noted. "He'll freeze you without you ever seeing it coming."
Then for the knights....
"Nox of shadow hes a Shadow Mage", he had towering figure with grey skin and shifting tattoos, Noctis had a haunting presence. His shadows felt like extensions of his will, unpredictable and aggressive. Part of the Umbra bloodline, his magic blurred the line between shadow and space itself."He's tactical," Vesper warned. "He manipulates everything around him, turning the environment into a weapon."
"Solara Lux" she was radiating a soft golden light, Solara's amber eyes glowed like a flame. She wore golden armor that shimmered with ethereal power. A Nezerac descendant, she wielded radiant light capable of incinerating anything in its path."Her light can burn through anything—shadows, darkness… even souls," Vesper said, his tone serious.
"Erebus Nezerac a Darkness Mage, Veloras cousin" he had a towering presence with charcoal skin and violet eyes that glowed ominously. His darkstone armor seemed alive, shifting with his every move. A master of deep darkness, Erebus could consume light and turn it into pure shadow."He becomes the darkness itself," Vesper murmured. "You won't see him coming until it's too late."
The vast hall of House Shadow came alive with soft, haunting melodies played by unseen musicians. The flickering candlelight cast long, shifting shadows across the intricate onyx tables, where Astra, Vesper, and Velora sat, indulging in the finest delicacies House Shadow had to offer. Plates of spiced mana beast, obsidian honeyed fruits, and shimmering darkwine were spread before them, each dish both extravagant and rich with power.
Vesper leaned back, sipping his drink, eyes glinting as he observed the gathered Rank Twos and Threes. "They're not the strongest," he mused, voice low. "But they're damn near the top. No house would ever show all its strongest cards for a mere tournament." He gestured vaguely at the hall. "But this year, House Shadow is stepping up. We've lurked in the background for long enough."
Velora nodded, slicing through a piece of blackened serpent steak, her tone measured. "The other houses will see soon enough—we're not just shadows in the background anymore."
Vesper smirked at Astra. "I'm excited to watch you compete. This'll be good training for you."
Velora, for once, agreed. "It'll temper your skills in real battle. Besides, you've been making waves already."
Before Astra could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.
Lance, grinning like a fox, dropped into the seat beside Astra, stealing a piece of fruit off his plate. "So, how does it feel to be the most talked-about noble in Shadow?" He laughed, his golden eyes playful. "You've got half the noblewomen of Duskfall swooning and the other half trying to figure out how you fight like that."
Astra scoffed, shaking his head as they all laughed. "It's been… an experience," he admitted, amused despite himself.
Lance clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't let it get to your head—though with a face like yours, it probably already has."
Astra rolled his eyes, finishing his drink before rising from the table. He was about to head out when a presenceapproached.
A Rank Three knight, clad in dark armor lined with silver, stopped before him and bowed slightly. "Astra," the knight said, voice low but firm. "The Angel of Shadows, Veylith Umbra, has summoned you."
Astra paused. He had expected this. Kind of. But still, hearing it confirmed sent a pulse of anticipation through him. He nodded, adjusting his coat. "Figures."
Lance stared at astra in disbelief as a mere rank one meeting an Angel was....unheard of, unless they shared a bloodline or something else and Astra clearly didn't
Vesper smiled as if he also expected this.
"Ill see you guys"
With that, he left the warm, lively hall behind, stepping into the cool, ever-present darkness of the estate. The path was long, winding, and quiet, save for the occasional flicker of shadowy figures moving in the distance.
At the heart of the estate, a towering structure loomed, its silhouette merging with the night itself.
Astra stood before it. Then, without hesitation, he stepped inside.
The chamber at the top of the Shadow Estate's tower was an ode to power and mystery. Dark grey wood lined the walls, its polished grain reflecting glimmers of gold filigree woven into intricate patterns. Black and gold books filled towering shelves, their spines inscribed with ancient knowledge. Across the chamber, weapons of all ranks rested in silent menace, their auras pulsing with restrained power. Mana crystals of every rank gleamed like captured stars, casting an eerie glow that shifted with their energies. Skulls of mana beasts, their sockets still burning with remnants of magic, stood as grim trophies of conquest.
A single massive window overlooked the endless sprawl of Duskfall, the city cloaked in eternal twilight. Moonlight spilled through the glass, cutting through the dim glow of the chamber, casting jagged shadows that danced like living specters.
And in that window, wreathed in the shifting darkness, stood a figure.
Astra could feel it before he even looked—an aura so deep it swallowed all others. The shadows around the chamber stilled, bowing as if in silent reverence. The very air seemed heavier, charged with an unseen force. And then, the voice came, smooth as silk yet laced with something deeper, something ancient.
"A little star, masquerading in the shadows, claiming to be one of them... How humorous."
Astra's gaze locked onto the figure.
The angel of shadows stood tall, his form half-wrapped in darkness that coiled and shifted as if alive.He was tall, breathtakingly handsome, with dark eyes that swallowed light like an endless abyss, and pristine pale skin, like marble almost. His presence was paradoxical—both ethereal and imposing, elegant yet terrifying.
"I am Veylith Umbra, Astra Noctis of House Night."
The name sent a shiver through Astra's spine. Veylith's voice was intoxicating—every word laced with something deeper, something that stirred the very essence of the shadows themselves. It was not just speech; it was command, it was truth given form.
Astra bowed slightly. "I greet the Angel of Shadows, Its an honor your Eminence."
The shadows around them swirled, reacting to every syllable that fell from Veylith's lips, as if eager to devour his words.
"You know, Astra," the angel continued, his gaze piercing, "whenever—whatever—event happened that led you to your destiny, every angel, devil, seraph, and sin saw it some powerful saints and demons as well but they don't matter. Even with your shell, there was no mistaking it—star magic and shadow magic intertwined. A rare sight."
Veylith's expression darkened with amusement. "I won't ask who shielded you… I already know. A certain old relic of a dwarv who just refuses to retire." He let out a low chuckle, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper. "Oh, but to see the stars shift like that… it brought me great joy. Some of my most cherished friends and allies were once of your house."
Astra's fingers curled slightly. The words struck deep, stirring something raw within him. The bitterness, the pain of loss, the weight of everything taken from him—he couldn't help himself.
"Then why didn't you help?" His voice was sharp, colder than he intended. Shadows curled around his feet, reacting to the flicker of emotion. "When my house was plotted against—when we were usurped—why didn't you move?"
The room went deathly still.
The mana in the air stopped.
The shadows that once danced and swayed grew impossibly deep, stretching into an abyss that had no end. Even the light of the mana crystals seemed to wane, their glow strangled by the suffocating darkness.
And then, Veylith spoke.
"You think I didn't try, little star?"
His voice was quieter now, but infinitely heavier. There was something beneath it—something vast and old, something that sent a primal chill through Astra's bones.
"a little lesson...before you speak, you should know the full details… Knowledge is power, after all."
There was no need to threaten. The weight of his words alone was enough.
"When your ancestors fought, we fought as well. The Umbral Plains were raided by the full force of House Dawn and the Angel of the Morning he is....powerful. The devastation was near-total—we barely contained the fighting outside of Shadowkeep itself. They wanted to eradicate us, you know."
The room dimmed further, as if the very memory of the past sought to swallow the present.
"Unfortunately for them… shadows are not so easily destroyed."
Astra swallowed, his anger tempered by the sheer gravity of what he was hearing.
Veylith's gaze flickered over him. "So, mind your tone."
And then, the angel's expression shifted ever so slightly—his head tilting, eyes gleaming with something new.
"I sense a blessing upon you." His gaze sharpened. "And quite a powerful one at that. One even I cannot remove." His lips curved ever so slightly, though his eyes were anything but amused. "Just what kind of being did you—"
Then, realization dawned.
The shadows rippled as Veylith smiled. A dangerous smile.
"Ah…ha... I see."
The air felt heavier, charged with something unreadable.
"It seems the Harbinger of Twisted Truths has found you."
Astra stiffened. That damnnmed devil a certain presence he could never forget resurfaced.
"Who… who is he?"
Veylith exhaled slowly, as if tasting the very essence of the question.
"A devil of unprecedented power," he said smoothly. "A being at the pinnacle of Rank Six, one that can even clash with Seraphs and Sins. Demented, some say—but no, that's just an act. He is perfectly sane. Cold. A scheming, vile bastard."
The shadows stirred, whispering with unseen voices.
"Wherever he goes, chaos follows. It's almost humorous."
Astra felt a pit form in his stomach. "And… he blessed me?"
Veylith's smile did not fade. "Let me guess… something to do with illusions, truths, and seeing what you are not supposed to see?"
Astra hesitated. "…Yes."
Veylith let out a soft chuckle. "As expected."
Then, his expression softened—if only slightly. "Ironically, it does more good for you than harm." His gaze flicked over Astra once more, studying him. "Not that my own blessing would do you much. You are already of Umbra, of Noctis. We share the same bloodline—to an extent, you are almost a cousin to me."
From the shadows, something rose. A small, black marble, pulsing faintly with something ancient.
Veylith held it between his fingers. "If you ever find yourself against a devil, an angel, or any other divine being who seeks to entrap or destroy you…and you will.... let a flicker of thought enter this stone." His voice was velvet, dark and promising. "And I will emerge from your shadow."
Astra reached for it hesitantly. The moment his fingers brushed against the marble, a cold pulse ran up his arm—a tether formed in the abyss.
"But remember," Veylith warned, his voice dipping lower, "this will only work in the presence of divinity. It is a two-way gate, and not without its conditions."
He stepped forward, the shadows bending around him.
"Now, little star." His voice was low, yet rich with amusement. "Perform well. Many eyes are on you. Many plans are in motion."
His smile turned razor-sharp.
"In fact, your sudden reappearance… is timed perfectly."
Astra's breath hitched as Veylith's words coiled around him, the weight of fate pressing down like an iron shackle.
"Get strong.The stars are waiting for you."
The angel smiled thoughtfully as if he remembered something, "some house words for you, through adversity to the stars" as he pointed up smiling.
Astra smiled
"…Thank you, Angel of Shadows."
Veylith's smile lingered.
"The pleasure is mine, little star."
.........
The next day, Duskfall pulsed with life.
The city, always a haven for the nocturnal, was now teeming with energy that had built up for months. The Springtime Advent Tournament had arrived—a grand spectacle where warriors from all corners of the realm gathered to prove their strength, etching their names into history.
Massive arcane screens, suspended high above plazas and market districts, flickered to life, displaying past battles in breathtaking clarity. The mana network, woven through the city's infrastructure, surged with activity, broadcasting old duels—great clashes of legends, devastating techniques, and expert breakdowns from commentators analyzing the previous years' victors. The echoes of history bled into the present, reminding all of the glory that awaited.
It flashed from high profile contestants from time to time
Fireworks ignited the dawn, golden embers exploding against the ever-twilight sky, illuminating the vast festival grounds sprawling beneath Shadowkeep's looming presence. Magic-infused lanterns floated in the air, tethered by strands of glowing mana, painting the streets in shifting hues of violet, gold, and deep crimson.
The nobility of every major house had descended upon Duskfall, their exotic carriages rumbling through the streets, drawn by rare and mythical beasts. Shaharans delegates rode atop sun-scaled drakes, their eyes glowing like molten gold. House Wai'ans envoys arrived in grand processions, their carriages hovering over the streets on rippling waves of liquid mana. The frozen lords of Snaers strode forward in elaborate frost-forged armor, their breath curling in the warm spring air. The entire city was a living tapestry of power, wealth, and ambition.
At the heart of the festival, vast arenas rose like coliseums of legend, their enchantments shimmering under the morning light. Each arena was different—some forged from seamless obsidian, others woven from shifting light or standing atop vast floating platforms held aloft by mana currents. Spectators filled the stands, their voices rising in an electric hum of anticipation.
Across the city, in the colossal training halls, warriors of all ranks honed their craft.
Rank One fighters, many still finding their footing in the world of mana, clashed in furious drills—sweat and steel colliding as they refined their control. Rank Two warriors moved with greater precision, their bodies reinforced by hardened cores, their mana techniques honed to lethal efficiency. And the Rank Three elites—monsters in human form—stood apart, their very presence distorting the air with raw power, their techniques shattering training dummies reinforced with runes of adamantine durability.
Guild masters, noble instructors, and renowned mercenary captains watched over the fighters, offering insight, strategies, and—when necessary—cold, unforgiving critique.
Throughout the festival, smaller duels erupted in the streets—friendly wagers turning into impromptu contests as young warriors tested their strength against one another. The energy was infectious, a citywide battleground where everyone sought to prove themselves