Grand Arcanum Academy – Dorm room
The soft glow of enchanted lights illuminated the room as Alistair sat at his desk, completely immersed in the book before him. The tome, given to him by Professor Selvaris, was dense—filled with complex theories on abyssal energy, its properties, and its foundational principles.
Despite his innate talent, Alistair had no illusions about his current abilities. His mastery of abyssal energy was still shallow, a fact the professor had bluntly pointed out. If he wanted to wield Bloodshadow Manifestation properly, he needed a solid foundation in abyssal magic first.
So, he studied.
Page after page, he dissected the intricate mechanics behind abyssal energy. Unlike elemental magic, which followed structured patterns, abyssal energy was chaotic, fluid, and resisted control. It required a delicate balance—too much force and it would lash out unpredictably, too little and it would dissipate into nothingness.
Alistair's fingers traced the diagrams in the book, mentally visualizing the flow of energy within the body.
The abyss is not an element, but a concept— the text read. It is the rejection of form, the absence of light, the formless void that defies order. To wield it, one must first understand what it means to be nothing, and from that nothingness, impose will.
Alistair exhaled slowly.
Impose will.
That was the key.
Abyssal energy wasn't something that could be controlled the way fire, wind, or water were. It wasn't a force to be tamed—it was something that submitted only to those strong enough to demand it.
He closed his eyes, recalling his previous attempts at using abyssal energy in his training session.
The instability. The collapse. The lack of structure.
He had been approaching it wrong.
He had tried to shape it, but abyssal energy was formless by nature.
Instead of forcing it into a rigid shape, he needed to command it while letting it retain its chaotic essence.
His grip on the book tightened.
I see.
This changed everything.
He flipped to the next section, absorbing more knowledge, refining his understanding—his focus unshaken. Hours passed, unnoticed.
Until—
A small, drowsy voice broke through his thoughts.
"Food."
Alistair's concentration shattered like glass.
His black eyes flickered up from the book, momentarily thrown off by the interruption.
Then, he turned toward the bed.
There, nestled in the blankets, a small figure stirred.
Sera.
His spirit companion—his bonded spirit, the silver-haired child who had emerged from his soul—sat up groggily, rubbing her golden eyes with tiny fists.
For a moment, she just blinked at him, her expression hazy with sleep.
Then—
"Food," she repeated, voice softer but insistent.
Alistair stared at her.
Then, his gaze flickered to the nearby clock.
…It's already evening?
Realization hit.
He had been studying for hours without pause. The sky outside had darkened, signaling the approach of night. No wonder his spirit had woken up—she was probably hungry after sleeping for so long getting tired of running around the dorm.
Alistair closed the book with a quiet sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
But… he wasn't particularly annoyed.
"Alright," he muttered, standing from his chair. "Give me a moment."
Sera, still half-asleep, simply sat there watching him as he moved toward the kitchenette.
*****
Cooking wasn't something Alistair particularly cared about, but it was a necessary skill. He didn't like relying on academy meals all the time—having control over his diet was part of maintaining discipline.
Tonight's meal was simple—grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and rice. He prepared a smaller portion for Sera, making sure to cut everything into bite-sized pieces.
By the time he placed the food on the table, Sera had clumsily climbed down from the bed and waddled toward the chair, still slightly unsteady on her small legs.
She sat down with surprising patience, though her golden eyes were locked onto the food with clear anticipation.
Alistair took his seat across from her, picking up his utensils without ceremony. "Eat."
Sera didn't need to be told twice.
She reached for the spoon with her tiny fingers, scooping up the rice before bringing it to her mouth.
Slow. Careful.
A stark contrast to how eager she had looked.
Her small bites and deliberate chewing made it clear—she was still learning.
A reminder that, despite being a spirit, she was also a child.
Alistair ate in silence, occasionally glancing up to check on her.
Sera, in contrast, remained focused entirely on her meal, her golden eyes flickering between her plate and her spoon as she carefully navigated the act of eating.
At some point, she looked up at him.
Then, with a tiny nod of approval, she returned to eating.
Alistair raised an eyebrow.
Was that supposed to mean the food was good?
A strange warmth settled in his chest, but he ignored it, finishing his meal without another thought.
Once they were done, Sera sat there, blinking sleepily again.
Then, without a word, she began to glow faintly.
In a blink, her small form dissolved into golden light, retreating back into his Spirit Mark.
Alistair exhaled slowly.
Peace.
For now.
****
Training Facilities
With his study session complete and dinner finished, Alistair felt the need to apply what he had learned.
Reading theories and practicing concepts in his mind was useful—but experience mattered more.
The best way to sharpen his understanding of abyssal energy was to test it in combat.
And for that, the Academy's Training Facilities were the perfect place.
Grabbing his coat, he stepped out into the night, the crisp evening air cooling his skin as he made his way toward the underground combat chambers.
Few students trained at this hour. Most had already eaten and retired to their rooms, leaving the facility relatively empty.
That was fine.
Alistair preferred it this way.
As he entered the facility, he walked past rows of enchanted dummies, mana-reinforced targets, and empty sparring rings before arriving at a secluded training chamber.
This room, unlike the others, had dim lighting, the walls marked with abyssal runes that absorbed excess mana. It was specifically designed for those who practiced darker arts.
Perfect.
Alistair stepped into the center of the chamber and rolled his shoulders.
Then, closing his eyes, he summoned his abyssal energy.
A familiar, dark force surged beneath his skin—unrefined, unstable, but powerful.
This time, I'll do it right.
Focusing on the knowledge he had gained, he willed the abyssal energy into his palm, not forcing it into shape, but commanding it to obey.
It swirled—shifting, pulsing—no longer resisting, but waiting.
This time, he didn't try to mold it into something rigid.
Instead, he let it flow.
Control through understanding, not force.
Slowly, the energy coiled around his fingers, forming a shifting mass of living darkness.
Alistair's eyes gleamed.
Better.
Now—
Time to push further.
The abyss had opened its doors.
And he was ready to walk through them.
---
(To Be Continued...)