The morning light barely reached through the thick clouds that hovered over Nox. The city, once a ruin, had become something formidable—a testament to rebirth through shadow and steel. Rising at its heart was the Black Keep, an imposing fortress of obsidian stone, its spires clawing at the sky like the talons of a great beast. The city had grown around it, twisting streets lined with homes and shops carved from dark stone, illuminated by ethereal lanterns that pulsed with faint silver light.
William Blackwell pulled on a simple tunic and dark trousers, stepping out onto his balcony overlooking the streets below. The people of Nox moved with quiet efficiency, their lives woven into the city's structure. It was a place unlike any other in Nox, a sanctuary for those who had been cast aside. His shadow soldiers had built this from nothing, and now it thrived.
He turned back inside and tossed a folded set of clothing at Caelum, who had just finished dressing in the elaborate silks he was accustomed to. Caelum caught the bundle with mild confusion, his silver eyes flickering between William and the unfamiliar garments.
"Put that on," William said, smirking. "We're going for a walk."
Caelum unfolded the clothes—a simple dark tunic and fitted trousers. He hesitated, fingers running over the fabric. "You expect me to wear this?"
William leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You'll stand out less this way."
With a sigh, Caelum relented, changing quickly. The garments felt restrictive, lacking the flowing elegance he was used to. William, however, only grinned at his discomfort.
"Bring Veyal," William added as he strapped his weapons to his belt. "We might need her."
At the mention of their name, Veyal appeared beside Caelum in a swirl of shifting energy—shadow and light woven together in the form of a great celestial-avian beast. Their wings shimmered with a faint, silver glow at the edges while the rest of their form remained draped in shifting darkness. Their eyes, piercing and knowing, locked onto William before offering a slight nod.
Together, they stepped out into the city.
The streets were alive with murmurs and movement. Nox had once been nothing but desolation, but now it thrived with smiths hammering away at forges, merchants selling wares both rare and strange, and warriors training in open courtyards. Those who passed bowed their heads slightly at the sight of William, acknowledging their lord and protector.
Caelum took it all in—the stark contrast to the structured grandeur of royal courts. Here, survival and strength dictated respect. There was no need for endless formalities, no gilded deception. It was raw, unfiltered life.
They walked until they reached the main plaza, where a towering statue had been erected—a dark figure wreathed in chains, an obsidian likeness of William himself, his sword planted into the ground, his eyes carved to look like they were always watching.
Before Caelum could question its significance, shadows twisted at William's feet. From the abyss they rose, forming into the great beast that was Sarkesha.
William ran a hand along Sarkesha's neck before turning to Caelum. "We're leaving. Elloria awaits."
Without another word, he mounted Sarkesha, motioning for Caelum to follow. Veyal's wings unfurled, preparing for flight. The city of shadows had given them its blessing, and now it was time to step beyond its borders.
Their journey led them to Blackhallow, the first town William had set foot in after escaping his imprisonment and the torturous horrors inflicted upon him and his friends. The town had grown since then, and the small guild that had once struggled to survive was now a force known as the Crimson Rose—a testament to William's influence and support.
As they walked through the streets, William noted the familiar landmarks, the faces of people he had once fought beside. The echoes of his past lingered in every corner, but now the town stood strong, a beacon of resilience.
He led Caelum to a quiet hill overlooking Blackhallow, where the wind carried the scent of fresh earth and pine. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the land. Here, away from the burdens of their titles, William finally spoke.
"You see this place? It wasn't always like this," William said, his voice calm but weighted. "I was barely holding myself together when I arrived here. This town, these people... they reminded me that survival isn't just about strength. It's about purpose."
Caelum remained silent, listening intently.
William turned to him, his gaze sharp. "In a week, your trials will begin. Whatever illusions you have about power, about control—strip them away now. Because when that time comes, you won't have the luxury of hesitation."
Caelum's expression hardened, but there was a flicker of understanding behind his silver eyes. He nodded, knowing that whatever lay ahead, he would face it.
For now, they stood in silence, watching as the last light of day faded into the encroaching shadows.
Returning to Nox, they found the city alive with excitement. A tournament had begun in the plaza, a contest of strength and skill held purely for the sake of enjoyment. The people roared in laughter and cheers as warriors clashed in friendly competition.
The moment William was spotted, the crowd erupted in a mix of playful jeers and enthusiastic challenges.
"Lord Blackwell! Care to show us how it's done?"
William smirked and cracked his knuckles. "Why not?"
As he stepped into the ring, shadows swirled around him. From the darkness emerged his three shadow soldiers—Umbraxis, the silent and deadly wraith born from William's very soul, Ravager, the embodiment of disciplined fury, and Vesper, the ever-mocking jester of the void.
Vesper immediately stole the spotlight, cartwheeling into the arena with exaggerated flair. "Behold! The undefeated, the unparalleled, the ridiculously handsome—Vesper!" he declared, striking an over-the-top pose.
Ravager sighed, arms crossed. "I should cut your tongue out."
"And deprive the world of my wit? That would be a tragedy!" Vesper dodged just in time as Ravager swung a lazy but forceful kick his way.
Umbraxis, ever the silent observer, merely nodded to William before taking his stance.
The tournament continued with good-natured chaos—Vesper pulling ridiculous stunts to make the crowd roar with laughter, Ravager displaying sheer force, and Umbraxis weaving through opponents like a phantom. William, of course, fought with ease, though he allowed himself to enjoy the moment.
For this brief time, in the heart of the city of shadows, there was nothing but laughter, battle, and the camaraderie of those who had built a home from darkness.
The tournament was winding down, the crowd still buzzing with excitement as the final match drew closer. Sweat dripped down William's face as he prepared to step out of the ring, having just crushed his last opponent. He was already anticipating the cool down and perhaps a quick drink, but the atmosphere suddenly shifted. A movement at the edge of the ring caught his attention.
Caelum, his son, stepped forward, his silver eyes gleaming with determination, and a fire that William recognized all too well. A murmur passed through the crowd as they began to understand what was happening. A collective gasp went up as Caelum moved past the line of fighters, his posture sharp and focused.
The crowd hushed, sensing the tension, as William turned to face him. Then, as if on cue, the crowd erupted into cheers. The son, challenging the father. The tension in the air was palpable, and the energy surged through the arena.
Vesper dramatically gasped from the sidelines. "This is going to be something special."
Ravager, watching from the edge of the crowd, nodded in approval. The challenge had been set.
Umbraxis, however, watched silently, his eyes narrowing with curiosity, as if calculating the potential consequences of this confrontation.
William smirked, rolling his shoulders with a casual, confident air. "You sure about this, kid?" he asked, his voice playful but laced with a sense of warning.
Caelum didn't hesitate. He clenched his fists, stepping into the ring with measured confidence. "You said my trials begin soon. Consider this my first step."
As the crowd's cheers echoed through the arena, the space between father and son seemed to stretch, a silent moment before the storm. William cracked his neck, his eyes narrowing, and with a swift motion, he lunged forward.
Caelum barely had time to react, his instincts kicking in as he brought his arm up to block the incoming strike. The force behind William's blow sent shockwaves through his body, but he managed to deflect it, his feet sliding back in the dirt.
"Not bad," William said with a smirk, a hint of approval in his voice, but his eyes burned with the intensity of a predator. "Let's see if you can handle this."
He didn't wait for Caelum to catch his breath. William struck again, this time with a flurry of brutal, calculated blows. Each strike was a test, pushing Caelum further, forcing him to react faster, think sharper. The sound of each impact rang through the arena as the two clashed in a rapid exchange of blows, each one more fierce than the last.
Caelum's silver eyes blazed with determination. He dodged one of William's blows, his body twisting to the side, only to be met with a knee to the stomach that knocked the air out of him. He gasped, his knees buckling slightly, but he pushed through the pain, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself back to his feet.
"You're fast," Caelum spat, wiping a trail of blood from his lip. "But I'm not done."
William chuckled darkly, eyes gleaming with amusement. "I'm just getting started."
Caelum's aura shifted. He wasn't just reacting anymore—he was attacking. He moved with newfound speed, a blur of motion as he struck with quick jabs, aiming for weak spots in his father's defense. William blocked the first few with ease, but Caelum's attacks were relentless.
A low growl escaped William's throat as he grinned. "That's the spirit, boy."
Caelum's eyes locked onto his father's, his silver gaze unwavering. He drew on every ounce of his training, focusing on the rhythm of the fight. He feinted left, drawing William's attention, before spinning and landing a solid punch to his side. The crowd roared as the impact rang out, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though Caelum had broken through.
But William's grin only widened. He twisted in mid-air, countering with a crushing elbow strike that slammed into Caelum's shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground.
"You're getting better, but you're still not ready."
Caelum, gasping for breath, pushed himself up, shaking off the pain. His father was right—he wasn't ready, but he refused to back down. Not now. He squared his shoulders, the fire inside him burning brighter than before.
With a battle cry, Caelum surged forward again, this time with everything he had. William met him head-on, the two of them colliding in a storm of fists, feet, and raw power. Every movement was a clash, every strike a test of will. Caelum could feel the heat of his father's power, but he wasn't backing down. He was going to prove himself, no matter the cost.
The fight reached a fever pitch, each blow carrying the weight of generations, of expectations and the desire to surpass them. Sweat poured down their faces, their bodies bruised and bloodied, but neither of them was willing to yield.
As the final moments drew near, Caelum saw an opening—just a fraction of a second where his father's guard was down. With everything he had left, he lunged, aiming for William's chest, delivering a blow that sent shockwaves through the air.
For a heartbeat, everything was still. William's eyes locked onto Caelum's, a mixture of pride and calculation in them. And then, with a swift movement, he grabbed Caelum's wrist, twisting and flipping him to the ground.
"Almost," William said softly, standing over his son. "Almost."
Caelum lay on the ground, panting heavily, his body screaming in protest, but a smile tugged at his lips. "I'm getting closer, though."
William extended a hand to help him up, his voice quieter now. "You are."
As William pulls Caelum to his feet, the weight of their exchange lingers in the air. The crowd has gone silent, watching with bated breath, unsure if the match is over or if it's about to take a darker turn.
Caelum stands, shaking off the pain. His body trembles from exhaustion, but his gaze is fierce, undeterred by the bruises already forming on his face. "You've always been the one who decides when I'm ready," he says, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. "But I'll decide when I'm done."
William watches him for a moment, as if considering his words. The crowd's murmurs swell in the background, but for this moment, it feels like time has stopped. He studies Caelum—the fierce determination in his eyes, the fire that refuses to die, even after everything.
"I admire that," William mutters, more to himself than anyone else. He takes a step back, giving Caelum room to move.
Caelum squares his shoulders, refusing to back down, but William isn't going to make this easy. He rushes in again, testing Caelum's limits one final time. This time, though, Caelum's response is different. Instead of trying to match his father's strikes, he focuses on avoiding them, letting William expend his energy.
William's frustration begins to show as he overextends with a strike, missing Caelum by inches. Caelum takes that moment, twisting around with fluidity, landing a solid blow to William's side—this time it's not just a quick jab, but a strike meant to test his father's limits.
William grunts, feeling the force of the blow. He backs up, wiping his mouth, his grin slowly turning into something more contemplative. "You're not the little boy you used to be, Caelum. Not anymore."
Caelum's chest heaves, but he presses on, his heart pounding in his chest. "Then stop holding back, father."
With those words, William nods, his expression changing. This time, he doesn't just go in for a quick strike—he launches a full assault, combining speed with raw power. The ground shakes with each of his blows, and for a moment, Caelum is overwhelmed by the sheer force of his father's strikes.
Just as it looks like William might land a devastating blow, Caelum's instincts take over. His mind clears, and he steps into the attack, using his father's momentum against him. He ducks under William's arm, spins, and with a swift, controlled motion, lands a heavy blow to his father's back.
The crowd gasps in shock as William stumbles forward, his hand on his chest for a brief second. It's a rare sight—William Blackwell, the living legend, off-balance.
Caelum stands tall, panting but resolute. "I'm not your shadow anymore."
William looks at him—really looks at him—for the first time in this fight. The silent acknowledgment passes between them like a spark igniting a wildfire.
Then, before either can speak further, a voice calls out from the edge of the arena.
"Enough."
The voice is commanding, reverberating with authority. Both father and son turn to see who has spoken. It's Umbraxis, stepping forward with his usual quiet composure. His eyes linger on the two fighters, unreadable.
"This has gone on long enough. You've both proven your point." His eyes flicker to William, then to Caelum. "But this is not the time for final tests. Not yet."
Caelum's chest heaves as he glances at his father, the exhaustion weighing heavily on him. But there's no regret in his gaze. Just determination.
William, still catching his breath, looks back at Caelum. "He's right. But know this, boy—what you just did, that's the start. Keep that fire. You'll need it."
Caelum nods, his heart swelling with pride and a deeper understanding of who he is, who he will become.
With a final, deep breath, William turns away. "Get stronger. I'll be waiting."
As father and son walk off in separate directions, the crowd erupts into applause, the energy in the arena buzzing like an electric current. The match may have ended, but for Caelum, his journey had only just begun.