The moment the horn blew, Astra moved.
A shadowed blur, streaking forward like a midnight wind. His sword whispered through the air, a phantom of darkness, water, and light interwoven in a deadly dance. The dwarf barely had time to react before Astra was upon him, blade lashing out with surgical precision.
Clang!
The dwarf blocked just in time, his warhammer shuddering under Astra's strength. The force sent a shockwave rippling through the ground, but Astra was already flowing into his next strike—light flickered at the edge of his blade, feinting one way before darkness coiled and pulled his attack in another direction.
The dwarf grunted, stepping back, eyes narrowing. He wasn't used to being outpaced.
Astra grinned, his silver eyes gleaming as he whispered, "Too slow."
With that, he pressed forward. His Sword of Shadow became an unrelenting tide, each swing filled with a natural, effortless rhythm—darkness to deceive, water to flow, light to pierce.
The crowd roared at the sheer beauty of Astra's swordplay. Every step he took was calculated, every movement an art form of ruthless efficiency.
But the dwarf was no mere rank one. clearly a upcoming star from Apu's harsh mountains, his warhammer mastery was refined through generations of warriors who lived and breathed stone fire and ice. He planted his feet, and the ground pulsed in response. Heat surged outward as his hammer flared a bright red, molten veins running across its surface.
Astra's violet eyes flickered with intrigue.
"Okay, now we're talking."
The hammer came down.
BOOM!
The stone beneath them cracked and melted, molten rock lashing out in jagged streams. The heat was suffocating. The crowd gasped as Astra twisted, narrowly avoiding a molten burst. The edges of his coat sizzled, but his movements never faltered.
Astra pivoted, summoning a wave of water to cool the ground beneath his feet, allowing him to move seamlessly. Steam swirled as shadows danced, making his presence even more elusive. He lashed out again—a feint, a step, a flick of light to blind, and a real strike aimed at the dwarf's ribs.
The dwarf roared, barely blocking in time. The clash sent a pulse of force through the area, sending dust and embers spiraling into the air.
For the first time, Astra felt it—the thrill.
His grip tightened on his sword.
Suddenly, his curiosity surged.
A shudder ran through him. his soul throbbed sending a wave of unnatural clarity through his mind as he saw threads—the flow of battle, the rhythm of his opponent. The world seemed to slow, the gaps in the dwarf's defense suddenly so obvious.
This was it.
The moment where battle became something more.
The shadows around him grew wilder, sharper. His magic surged—not chaotic, but refined, honed like the edge of his blade.
He felt his hunger grow. His curiosity increase
Astra exhaled, his voice laced with mana.
"Show me more, oh warrior of Apu."
The large dwarf's mana surged as he calmed himself, his red plume dancing in the wind. His warhammer grew hotter, more potent, glowing brighter as he infused it with the essence of fire and stone. The ground trembled beneath his very presence.
"Oh, little shadow, you ask... I shall deliver." His dark red eyes shined through his visor, and Astra felt a chill. The crowd erupted at the exchange, voices rising in anticipation.
The dwarf lunged, his heavy warhammer a blur despite its size. Astra's sword flickered, intercepting strike after strike, but the dwarf's power was unrelenting. Each swing carried monstrous weight, yet there was no reckless overcommitment—his technique was measured, refined.
The ground heaved, stone fracturing as jagged pillars erupted like the fangs of a hungry beast, shards of molten rock lancing through the air in a fiery barrage. Arrows of searing flame and spheres of incandescent fury roared toward Astra, the very battlefield conspiring to consume him. Yet he wove through the devastation like a phantom, his every movement a seamless blend of instinct and precision. His sword flickered—a whisper of darkness, light, and water—cutting through the torrents of flame, deflecting molten shards with uncanny grace. The crowd gasped as Astra advanced, a specter of the abyss, wreathed in the glow of the battlefield's chaos, pressing forward with relentless purpose.
"Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut," Astra mused with a smirk behind his helmet.
As the dwarf pressed forward, Astra fully embraced the shadows. They slithered around him like sentient wraiths, responding to his will with an eerie grace. His curse pulsed within him, an insidious whisper threading through his veins, sharpening his instincts to a lethal edge. His aura surged—an unseen force that made the air itself grow colder, the shadows more eager, more obedient. A hush fell over the crowd as they felt it—this ineffable, almost sacred connection between warrior and darkness. This was no ordinary display of power. This was the presence of a man standing on the precipice of ascension, his mastery teetering at the cusp of something greater, something terrifying.
Then Astra saw it.
The patterns.
How the dwarf liked to shift his grip before a broad swing. How the rock trembled before launching molten shards. How the flames quivered just before lashing out. How he his hips, shoulders eyes moved, Astra saw it all.
"Oh warrior, show me more. "
A step forward—blade flickers. A cut across the shoulder. The dwarf's red eyes widened.
"You promised, didn't you?"
A sidestep—shadows spiral. A slash against the thigh.
"I asked and you shall deliver remember?"
A backstep—light blazes. A thrust inches from the heart, forcing the dwarf to stumble.
Astra's curse rippled, an intoxicating hunger seeping into his bones. The battlefield, the clash of steel, the unraveling of his opponent's technique—he needed more. Every motion, every reaction, every flicker of hesitation in the dwarf's stance sent a shiver of exhilaration through him. He loved this.
The dwarf swung wildly, desperate now. His hammer was a molten inferno, the very air rippling from the heat. But Astra was no longer reacting—he was dictating the pace.
He was
Faster. Sharper.
"Your technique is refined... but it won't be enough."
The dwarf staggering back summoning a large wall of stone, seeking respite from the onslaught. Astra called upon the shadow cast by the dwarf's own body, infusing it with his will using a variation of shadow pin. For the briefest moment, the dwarf froze—a hesitation Astra exploited instantly. The shadows in the dwarf's wounds deepened, lancing through him with an unseen force that made him shudder. soul damage.
"There ya go yes, that's what im talking about"
Astra dashed forward, shadows twisting beneath his feet as he shaped them into a seamless platform mid-stride. With a surge of mana, he propelled himself upward, executing a fluid somersault over the wall, his dark armor glistening beneath the arena lights, wreathed in liquid night. His voice shaking the very mana, everyone heard him.
"Show"
Midair, he extended his will—a ripple of darkness coalescing into a lance of condensed mana. With a flick of his wrist, the shadowed spear launched from his left, its trajectory aimed with razor-sharp precision.
"Me"
The dwarf raised his hammer. Stone pillars surged behind him, fireballs and molten arrows launching into the air, forming a deadly volley against Astra's descent. But Astra's curse flared—his mind saw threads of opportunity in the chaos. His violet eyes glowed as he twisted through the barrage, feeling the heat graze past, but never touching him. He smiled.
"More!"
Still midair, Astra enhanced the soles of his feet with light mana, propelling himself forward in a spiraling arc. With one hand, he hurled a spear of coalesced shadows downward, the sheer force of impact shattering a rising pillar of stone. At the same time, his sword spun as he crashed down—a blur of darkness and light—meeting the hammer's fiery ascent in a deafening clash, sparks and embers erupting between them.
The crowd held its breath.
For a moment, they thought Astra had been caught—only for his sword to slip through the opening, slicing into the dwarf's shoulder. Astra twisted, delivering a brutal elbow to the dwarf's chest, then a precise kick to his knee. The dwarf staggered to his knees.
Astra ripped his sword free and pressed the blade against the dwarf's armored neck..
The moment hung suspended in silence. The great dwarf warrior kneeled before Astra, his broad chest heaving, his hammer slipping from fingers that had once held it with unshakable strength. Blood trickled from the deep wound carved across his chest, his body swaying—until finally, he fell back, crashing onto the battlefield with a heavy thud.
For a breath, the arena remained eerily still.
Then—
An explosion of sound. The very earth beneath Astra's feet trembled as the crowd erupted, their voices a roaring wave that surged to the heavens. The arena shook, vibrating with thousands of voices chanting as one.
"ASTRA OF SHADOW—WIN!"
The announcer's declaration boomed across the battlefield, carried on a tide of rapturous cheers. The name echoed, growing louder, the crowd swept up in the birth of something undeniable—a prodigy, a new legend, a force rising from House Shadow.
Astra stood amidst the chaos, still as stone, his blade glistening with battle. Slowly, he reached for his helmet. The motion alone sent another ripple through the stands, the anticipation swelling to a fever pitch. And as he removed it, the arena seemed to ignite anew. Astra exhaled, heartbeat steady, his hunger for battle barely sated.
The cheers became deafening.
"Damn perverts," Astra muttered, feeling flustered by the sheer intensity of their reaction.
Sweat clung to Astra's skin, dampening his curls, his violet eyes gleaming beneath the bright arena lights. His lips curled, half amusement, half something far more primal. The hunger still lingered—a whisper in the back of his mind, the high of battle coursing through his veins. His body thrummed with energy, the shadows around him swaying as if still celebrating his victory.
He turned his gaze to his fallen opponent.
The healers had already rushed onto the field, their mana-infused hands moving swiftly over the dwarf's wound. The massive warrior groaned, his chest rising and falling before his eyes flickered open. With a grunt, he pushed himself up, wincing but steady. He looked at Astra, then at the wound across his chest, before finally grinning.
Astra extended a hand. "I never got your name you know. "
The dwarf smiled dangerously as he clasped it, his red eyes shining bright and his grip firm. "I Theorn and I shall see you again, oh Astra of Shadow."
Their hands parted, and the dwarf turned, walking away with slow, deliberate steps, his presence undiminished despite the loss.
Astra, too, turned, stepping toward the tunnel as the echoes of his name trailed behind him, a symphony of reverence and exhilaration. The shadows danced in his wake, weaving between the light as if sharing in his triumph. He entered the tunnel victorious, the noise of the crowd a thunderous heartbeat against his back.
Yet, as he walked, something nagged at him.
His expression darkened ever so slightly. The way he had fought… the way he had acted in the last moments of the battle—it hadn't been mere excitement. He knew better than to lie to himself.
It was the curse.
That insidious, crawling thing lurking in his soul, whispering, feeding on his curiosity, his hunger for more. He had lost himself in it, even if just for a moment. And he knew—if he let it, it would consume him.
"How insidious."
The roar of the crowd still chased him as he entered the preparation chambers, where warriors waited for their next match. He ignored the stares, the whispers of admiration and wariness alike. He exhaled, steadying himself, his pulse finally slowing.
A mana screen flickered to life on the wall, the announcers already dissecting the battles. The broadcast showed the first round's final standings, with Astra's name bold and bright, a new star among veterans. a montage of him fighting but for some reason they seem to focus on his face a lot.
His jaw dropped...fo...four billion live viewers?!
"—And there you have it! Astra of House Shadow, a mere Rank One, delivering a performance beyond expectations, showcasing technique that even Rank Twos and some Threes would find masterful!" One announcer's voice rang with excitement. "His movements—fluid, unreadable, precise. His affinities—seamless. Did you see how the shadows surged, how the mana obeyed him? That wasn't just talent, that was control, an innate synchronization with his element!"
Another voice chimed in, more analytical. "And let's talk about House Shadow. Their warriors have always been potent, but this? If Astra is what they're producing, then I believe we are looking at a resurgence of their dominance in the magical world. House Shadow has long been shrouded in mystery, and now, with this prodigy rising from its depths, we may be witnessing the beginning of something much greater."
Astra watched them talk about him, dissecting his every move, his power, his style. They saw a warrior, a prodigy.
But they didn't see the thing whispering in his soul, the lineage flowing through his veins...
"One day...."
He leaned back, letting the hum of the announcers fade into background noise. He had won this battle.
...............
Astra's battle had gone beyond mere recognition—it had become legendary. Never before had a Rank One duel captivated the masses like this. His name burned through the mana network, venerated and echoed across countless voices. House Shadow had found itself a new star, one that would surely ascend the ranks, reshaping its legacy.
Astra leaned back, transfixed by the mana network. For some reason, he just couldn't take his eyes off it. The broadcast flickered with excitement, announcers dissecting his every move, his shadow-wielding prowess, the sheer dominance he had displayed. His bracket loomed before him, the upcoming battles now far more intriguing than before.
He had two more matches before facing off against the prince of House Dawn. A name whispered with awe. The prince was rumored to be incredibly powerful, dangerously handsome, and immensely famous. A golden prodigy of the Sun.
But beyond Dawn, there were other rising stars—ones from the icy, unforgiving realm of Apu.
Apu was a land of extremes—a realm sculpted by fire, ice, and stone. Towering mountain ranges split the sky, their jagged peaks crowned with snow, while below, deep fjords carved through the earth, splitting the valleys in grand, winding scars. It was a world of relentless cold and searing heat, where magma rivers bled through icy plains, and the people who thrived there were carved from the very elements they wielded.
Two warriors from Apu stood among the highest-seeded contestants.
Bjored of House Rune, steward of Pyke, a massive half-orc, half-dwarf who wielded the terrifying combination of ice and lightning. His strikes were like the wrath of a winter storm, sudden and overwhelming, his sheer resilience making him a titan on the battlefield.
Then there was Iogred of Eldfjall, royal steward of Askaland. A human whose unique magma magic made him a force of destruction, his very presence radiating the oppressive heat of a volcano poised to erupt. He fought like a landslide—relentless, crushing, inevitable.
These two were set to clash with prodigies from House Dawn and House Dusk, setting the stage for titanic battles. The world watched eagerly.
But Astra had his own path to carve.
First, the prince of Dusk.
Then, the princess of Hunt.
"Damn princes and princesses… wait, I'm a prince...!" Astra muttered to himself before shaking his head.
His fights blurred together—one after another, a relentless climb toward the top.
........................
And now, here he stood.
Steel clashed against steel as Astra twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the bladed wind that howled past him. His opponent was fast—unnervingly so. A female elf of House Sylva, hailing from Alfheim, the realm of endless forests and whispering trees.Green eyes, white hair pale skin.
She wielded a unique wind-forged sword, its edges invisible, cutting through the air with razor precision.
Astra barely ducked in time as a blade of air sliced where his neck had been.
"Tch," he exhaled, stepping into the shadows as they surged behind him.
The crowd roared.
The elf lunged—blades of wind curving midair, unpredictable, relentless. Astra's footwork became sharper, his shadows coiling tighter. Then, he saw it—the slight shift in her stance, the overextension.
"How annoying"
In a flash, he was behind her.
A shadow-formed dagger sliced through the air. The elf barely had time to react before the match was decided.
The arena erupted.
......................
Astra exhaled, rolling his shoulders. The battles were getting harder. His opponents weren't just strong—they were skillful. He could feel it in every clash, every exchanged blow.
And it only became more apparent in his next fight.
His body ached. He was littered with wounds, thin cuts tracing his skin like warpaint. The princess of House Flame had been fast—blindingly so. A red-haired human from Dunya, the vast realm of sprawling cities and endless plains. She fought with twin daggers, her magic a potent mix of fire and wind, making her movements unpredictable and dangerously fluid.
Astra smirked, sidestepping another of her rapid slashes.
"Tired yet, princess?" he teased.
The woman scowled, her fiery hair whipping behind her. "Not even close."
She was good. No, she was exceptional. Astra had underestimated her speed at first, and now his body bore the consequences. But speed had one fatal flaw.
Overcommitment.
She dashed forward, her twin daggers slicing through the air. Astra let her come, baiting the final strike. At the last moment, he twisted, rolling through her momentum, his body a fluid shadow. Before she could recover, he materialized a dagger of pure darkness—its cold edge pressing just beneath her throat.
Her breath hitched.
For a moment, the arena was silent. Then—
"Wha—the actual hell?!"
The princess's face turned a deep shade of crimson, realization dawning as Astra's face remained inches from hers, his expression infuriatingly calm.
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Close match, princess."
She shoved him back, crossing her arms. "You're insufferable."
But she was still blushing.
Astra chuckled, shaking his head. The curse hadn't lashed out as much this time, but it was there—lurking, whispering. It didn't push him toward brutality, not yet, but it drove something else. A gnawing curiosity. A hunger to push further.
And as he looked toward his next match, toward the names left in his bracket, he knew one thing for certain.
The next battles, were the pinnacle of rank one, the very top who are all looking to ascend soon after they have made their mark.
................
House Shadow's coliseum box was nothing short of regal. Towering above the arena like an obsidian throne, its design was a masterful blend of elegance and dominance. Black marble walls shimmered under the dim mana lanterns, their surfaces veined with threads of silver that pulsed faintly like living shadows. Plush velvet seats, embroidered with the sigil of House Shadow—a serpent coiled around a crescent moon—lined the interior, each one reserved for the most elite of the House's warriors and nobles.
Astra strode along the viewing balcony, his boots silent against the polished stone floor, his dark robes flowing behind him like liquid night. The murmurs of conversation hushed as he passed, and even among the rank threes and fours, warriors far above his standing, there was respect in their gazes. Some nodded in acknowledgment. Others clapped him on the back, murmuring words of approval.
"Shadow's new star."
"A monster in the making."
"House Shadow has been waiting for one like him."
It was surreal. To be venerated by those leagues above him, warriors who had long since cemented their legacies. But he had no time to bask in it. He approached the familiar figures waiting for him near the center of the coliseum box—Vesper and Velora.
Vesper leaned lazily against the railing, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Enjoying the view, little prince?" he teased, eyes flickering to the stadium below.
Velora stood beside him, her sharp golden gaze sweeping over Astra appraisingly. "You've made quite the impression," she said, tilting her head. "Even the elders are talking."
Astra exhaled, rubbing his neck. "Didn't expect to be House Shadow's next big spectacle."
Vesper chuckled. "Oh, you better believe it. But—" His expression shifted, a rare seriousness settling over his normally playful demeanor. "You should be careful. Your next opponent is no joke."
Astra arched a brow. "The prince of Dawn?"
Velora nodded, her tone measured. "Lucien Solaris. The second seed in this entire tournament. The one who inherited House Dawn's unique Sun Magic."
Astra's fingers unconsciously curled into a fist. Sun Magic—one of the rarest and most overwhelming affinities in the world. A force of light, heat, and divine authority.
Vesper's eyes darkened. "He's strong, Astra. Maybe even stronger than Velora and I."
Astra frowned. That was a weighty statement. Vesper and Velora were both monsters in their own right. If Lucien truly surpassed them…
Before Astra could respond, the shadows around them stirred. A creeping, unnatural darkness seeped into the space, heavier than any magic Astra had ever felt.
Footsteps.
And then—
A man stepped forward.
Velrius Umbra.
A Rank Five Saint.
His presence alone sent a whisper of unease through the room. Draped in a long, flowing coat of shadowed silk, his face was sharp yet unreadable, his smile quiet, enigmatic. His mere existence warped the space around him, shadows clinging to his every movement as if drawn to him by an unseen force.
He looked at Astra, his gaze unreadable, his smile unfaltering.
"You have done really well Astra, everyone will be watching," Velrius murmured as he smiled. His voice was neither a warning nor encouragement, merely a statement of fact. Yet it carried weight, a cryptic omen laced within his words.
Astra held his gaze, feeling the pressure settle onto his shoulders. He gave a slow nod. "I figured as much."
Velrius chuckled softly, then turned away, melting into the shadows as swiftly as he had appeared.
Astra exhaled.
He turned his attention back to the arena, eyes scanning the battlefield below. His gaze landed on a lone figure standing amidst the wreckage of a finished match, as the crowd roared in the most infamous chant of Alfhiem, a chant reserved for their greatest warriors, or their greatest battles.
"Roots run deep, unshaken, unbent!Blades like leaves, swift and spent!By sun, by stars, by elder might,Alfheim stands, ready to fight!
Strike! Like thunder through the trees!Rise! Like winds upon the seas!Break! Like rivers carving stone!*Alfheim claims the victor's throne!
"Blood and bark, steel and light!Sing the song of Alfheim's might!"
This chant would echo through a coliseum, a rallying cry for warriors of Alfheim, calling upon their natural strength, agility, and deep connection to the land as they fight for glory.
Aster Hunt stood uninterested...bored even.
A shudder ran down his spine.
She was beautiful. In a way that was almost unnatural.
Two different-colored eyes—one a sapphire blue laced with flecks of gold, the other a midnight purple speckled with red. Her hair was a deceptively plain blonde, yet somehow, she looked… paradoxical. Magical. Terrifying. There was something in her aura that felt off—deep, dark, dangerous.
Astra knew it immediately.
She was unique. Almost as unique as him.
His inner star hummed. His curse whispered. His instincts sharpened.
What a monster.
She had just demolished her opponent without even using her main mana type. That alone was enough to send a chill through him.
And these were his enemies.
Not even the best of them.
He exhaled, forcing his pulse to steady. He was still only Rank One. One step at a time.
The shadows around him deepened as he turned away, making his way toward his private waiting room. As he stepped through the halls, House Shadow's warriors erupted into cheers, their voices ringing through the corridors.
And then—
He glanced up at the arena's massive screens.
A name flashed across the display.
A matchup that sent a roar through the coliseum arena.
"Final Quarter Finals Match up"
"Astra of Shadow VS. Lucein Solaris of Dawn."