Astra lay sprawled across his bed, the dim sapphire glow of his mana device casting shifting shadows across his face as he scrolled through news articles, public forums, and endless comment threads. Though the mana-network had finally calmed in its frenzy over him, the last weeks had been anything but quiet.
He and Prince Lucien Solaris of Dawn had, unintentionally, become locked in a strange realm-spanning rivalry—one waged not on the battlefield, but in the court of public eyes.
After Astra's rise, House Dawn unleashed their own spectacle: an interview revealing the long-absent Prince Lucien in his first public appearance in three years.
The effect was immediate—chaos, awe, a surge of mana-net hysteria. Lucien shattered Astra's previous record without effort, his video soaring to ten billion views—double Astra's achievement. It also helped that the bastard was gorgeous, like drop dead gorgeous, golden hair, golden eyes, pale skin, freckles, a dazzling smile, yeah Astra was shocked himself.
Then, as if the realm itself were conspiring to overshadow him, Princess Aster Hunt released a training demonstration so absurdly skillful that Rank Three experts publicly questioned whether she was even mortal. She struck spinning, moving targets mid-air after leaping downwards while also spinning from a spire—her final arrow piercing a bullseye across two entire districts of Duskfall. True, she used a Rank Two bow with assisted power, but even with aid, her precision bordered on the mythical.
Her video broke records yet again.
And suddenly, Astra, an adopted member of House Shadow and his duel against five became an afterthought.
Until Penumbra's Ministry of Whispers contacted him.
A true government body under House Shadow's authority, requesting an exclusive interview about Astra's adoption and the hardship of his early life. They had him speak openly, painfully, about Duskfall's ghettos his orphanage. They even drew Prince Vesper who was the rumored heir apparent to House Shadow into the spotlight during the interview, having him speak on Astra's potential. They played to Astra's strengths without remorse… chiefly, the unfair beauty he rarely noticed in himself.
The result?
His interview soared across the realm. Skyrocketed. Pierced through the noise like a comet across a moonless sky. House Dusk tried to counter by showcasing their own prince, and did garnish attention but the sands had already shifted—too late for anyone to care.
Across Sahara, the talk of the realm was divided between two names:
Prince Lucien Solaris of Dawn. Lord Astra of Shadow.
Not for status. Not for lineage. But for beauty.
Astra honestly did not know how to feel.
The two were complete opposites after all!
Astra stood tall and sharp, his toned frame wrapped in jet-black curls and shadow. Violet eyes, pale skin, and a haunting, almost androgynous beauty gave him the dangerous charm of a creature born from night itself.
Lucien was his opposite—broad-shouldered, golden-haired, freckled skin warm as sunrise. His golden eyes and effortlessly handsome features made him look carved from dawnlight.
Lucien was a rare Sun Mage, a wielder of pure radiance—light, heat, and the burning essence of dawn itself. Astra, at least on paper, was his mirror, a Shadow and Water Mage, born of darkness and the fathomless depths.
But to a handful of beings Astra was entirely something else.
He was a Star Mage, a wielder of the night sky itself, of constellations and the endless void beneath them. A child of midnight crowned in cosmic fire.
And now, with the videos sitting at twenty billion views, they were popular across multiple realms. Considering Sahara's estimated mortal population of nine billion, Astra was, without exaggeration, famous beyond comprehension for a mere rank one. Useful, given his plans.
He swallowed, cheeks warming as he skimmed through the more… forward comments.
"Those curls… those eyes… gods, I'd let him break my stance any day."
"How is he an adopted commoner? He's gorgeous—gods, life isn't fair!"
"Aw… stop, I actually teared up. Someone needs to advocate for the ghettos of Duskfall."
"I still don't get it… he kinda looks like a girl in a way."
"He's from the ghetto? Gods, I'm scared to see the real him."
Astra shut his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. Some people had no shame—yet he had to admit the Ministry of Whispers knew their craft frighteningly well. He hadn't even realized he could look so composed on camera. He always imagined himself stiff, awkward… but the video showed someone else entirely: lively, charismatic, effortlessly compelling.
But beyond appearance, something far more important stirred inside him—growth.
Watching that old footage of himself fighting five trained opponents seven weeks ago made him realize how far he'd come. Now, he could spar with Vesper and Velora seriously—and even win. The matches had grown brutal and drawn-out. He and Vesper once fought at full power for an entire hour before he had to leave for class. Velora improved just as rapidly. Vesper, meanwhile, seemed thrilled—too thrilled. For all Astra had once believed himself a battle-junkie, Vesper's trembling excitement after losing a bout was… unnerving.
And yet Astra felt something strange—Vesper was holding back. Just as Astra was holding back from revealing his star-magic.
Even still… Astra had the unsettling feeling that even with star-magic unleashed, a life-or-death fight with Vesper would be anything but pretty.
He sighed and glanced at the glowing coin hovering above his palm—his mage coin.
He had come far.
[Astra Noctis] Heir of House Night, Lord of Shadows, Prince of the Stars
[Rank One] – Pawn[Mana Core] – One (Two Connected)[Godhood] – Crown of Stars, Cloak of Secrecy(Further insight locked: ascension required)
[Affinities] Star(S) Shadow(S) Water(B) Light(B) Fire(C) Earth(E) Wind(E)
[True Mana Affinities] – Shadow, Star]
[Combat Mastery.]
The Sword of Shadows.[Mastery: 2/9]
The Sword of the Stars.[Mastery: 1/9]
Advanced Swordsmanship. [Mastery: 4/9]
Advanced Hand to Hand Combat.[Mastery: 1/9]
Basic Pole Arms.[Mastery: 1/7]
Basic Blunt Arms.[Mastery: 1/7]
Eight relentless weeks under demi-gods, countless drills, bruises, broken limits—his once-weak foundation had been reforged. Astra was now trained as well as any Rank Two soldier, perhaps even slightly better.
His swordsmanship had risen from intermediate to advanced. His hand-to-hand from intermediate to advanced.His Shadow Sword had taken its second step—barely, after immense effort—guided by Alistair's near-inhuman skill. His Star Sword had awakened its first step.He had picked up basic polearm and blunt-weapon training too.
His growth was remarkable but not unheard of; the realms were vast and strewn with prodigies. Velora, for instance, hovered on the brink of mastery in unarmed combat, already an expert in blunt weapons. Vesper was a master duelist and an advanced swordsman who hid his own secrets. Lucien… was rumored to be something far above—a natural sword-saint. Aster's feats existed plainly for all to witness.
But Astra possessed something different, speed. To reach advanced swordsmanship and hand-to-hand in such a short span marked him as truly dangerous. And stranger still was how naturally a sword fit into his hands, as though his bones remembered a life he had never lived.
By now, Astra was easily capable of competing with the pinnacle of Rank One's—and maybe even surpassing them. His shadow manipulation, his casting ability, his raw firepower—all vastly stronger. If he were to invoke star magic, he had no doubt he would best even the most talented.
He felt powerful. A true pinnacle-tier Rank One.
He showered, letting the steam roll over him, exhaling softly.
Today was a big day.
The main estate hall of House Shadow churned with a quiet, simmering violence. Power hung in the air like a storm waiting to break. Though no blade had been drawn and no spell cast, mana clashed invisibly—the subtle collision of auras belonging to Saints, Bishops, and the highest echelons of nobility. Not a word had yet been spoken, yet dominance and hierarchy thrummed through the air as plainly as a war drum.
The hall itself—the Tegal Throne Room—was a monument to an age long buried. Named for an angel who had perished in Duskfall millennia ago, the chamber was crafted to honor, intimidate, and exalt in equal measure. The ceiling towered so high it vanished into shadow, woven with threads of deep violet mana arranged to resemble constellations frozen mid-birth. The walls were obsidian slabs veined with molten-gold streaks that pulsed faintly, giving the illusion of a living, breathing darkness. Enchanted torches burned with cold golden flames, their light rippling across the polished black-stone floor where reflections moved like ghosts beneath one's feet.
Heavy banners draped from balconies and vaulted beams—midnight black cloth embroidered with the sigil of House Shadow: a golden serpent devouring its own tail, the eternal ouroboros. Here, under these shifting lights and solemn colors, even the air seemed to kneel.
At the far end of the hall rose a Throne of Shadow. It was less a crafted object and more a wound in the world—a seat sculpted from living darkness. At one moment it appeared solid, carved from the deepest obsidian; the next, its edges blurred into the void, as though it might swallow any who dared sit upon it. Astra could not even begin to imagine just how more luxurious and majestic the ShadowKeep was compared to this a mere estate here in Duskfall.
Astra adjusted the black-and-silver tunic clinging to his frame and entered the hall beside Vesper and Velora.
Even they—children of this house, raised in its shadowed splendor—fell into uneasy silence.
"Gods," Vesper muttered under his breath, pushing a hand through his raven hair. His powerful frame, often relaxed even before Saints and Bishops, stood rigid. "I always forget how many Saints this house hides until they gather like this."
Velora elbowed him sharply. Her deep violet cloak fluttered like a whisper of night. "Still your tongue, fool. Whisper too loudly and half this room will hear you."
"They probably already have," he smirked, voice low. "But what is House Shadow without a bit of entertainment?"
Astra ignored the Saints. He doubted most of them knew his true identity—perhaps only a handful on the council understood who he truly was. And even then, trust was currency he did not give freely.
Velora's gaze carefully scanned the crowd. The hall held more than the house's elite: envoys from allied families, foreign dignitaries from distant realms, armored emissaries, and warriors bearing strange insignias. All had come for some purpose of their own, undoubtedly drawn by the gathering storm.
Astra let his eyes wander until they locked upon a familiar presence.
Bishop Alistair Tenebrous.
He stood near an obsidian pillar, cloaked in black and silver, arms folded. His dark hair and piercing eyes marked him unmistakably as one of House Shadow's highest-ranking bishops.
When their gazes met, Alistair inclined his head—the smallest, rarest gesture of approval. Eight weeks Astra had trained under him; a flicker of time in a bishop's ancient lifespan, yet a monumental period for Astra. In combat, Alistair had been a mentor. In politics, however…
Astra trusted no one.
He offered the bishop a faint but genuine smile. The bishop had helped build Astras foundations. Foundations that may perhaps take Astra all the way to divinity. Or see him killed in some horrific manner.
Astra found himself staring before his cloak of secrecy made itself known to him, it shuddered in subtle...excitement?
Then the atmosphere shifted.
The shadows froze.
An unseen force swept through the Throne Room—not mana, not aura, but something… more absolute.
The shadows on the walls halted mid-motion. The animated wisps of umbral energy, usually swirling like serpents around the pillars, stood perfectly still. Even the golden torchlight dimmed, as though bowing.
A reverent silence fell over the hall.
And then they appeared.
Three angels.
Astra's breath caught. Shadow mobilized not one, but three? Are they trying to provoke the entire realm?
He couldn't help the faint, incredulous snicker that escaped him.
The first angel entered like a walking eclipse—a tall man with abyssal eyes and pale hair cropped close. He moved with an unnatural stillness, every step consuming sound, as though the world made space for him alone.
The second led the group. Taller still, elegant and dangerous in equal measure. His long purple hair glimmered beneath the cold golden flames, and his eyes—sharp, amused, impossibly perceptive—glowed with a faint violet radiance. Astra felt those eyes cut straight through the room, through lies, through flesh, through memory.
The third was a woman, smaller than the others but breathtaking in her stillness. Her hair and eyes were darker than shadow itself, drawing the light inward, drinking it.
Not a single shadow stirred.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then—every Saint, every Rank Four, every noble bowed.A sea of the mighty lowering their heads.
Astra had not bowed to an angel since ascending in authority, yet every fiber of his being urged him downward now. This was divine suppression. A command woven into existence.
The leader of House Shadow ascended the dais and sat upon the Throne.
Astra's pulse quickened.
Though the throne had sat empty for generations, it did not feel foreign beneath this presence. The shadows trembled—not with fear, but with something Astra recognized from a single source.
Reverence.Awe.Obedience.
The Throne danced for him.
Astra had only seen shadows react this way twice before—once around the Cloak of Secrecy, and once when he touched the fringes of his own godhood. The moment he made the connection—
He felt it.
The Angel of Shadows had claimed one of Umbra's godhoods.
The angel spoke.
His voice was unhurried, almost casual, yet sharper than any blade forged in the realms. Unenchanted, unamplified—yet it filled every corner of the vast hall.
"Good evening," he said softly. "I will not keep you long. There is much to prepare—rituals, councils, decisions that cannot wait."His eyes narrowed."So I will say only this."
The torches flickered.
Mana surged like a breaking tide. Shadows trembled as if bowing.
"It is time for Shadow to rise. We have lingered in the dark too long. Now… we reclaim what was taken."
And with that, his body unraveled into pure darkness, dissolving into the Throne. The absence he left behind felt heavier than his presence.
The remaining two angels rose, gliding toward the Saints, speaking in hushed, absolute tones.
Astra finally exhaled.
Only then did he realize his entire body had been locked stiff.
And then—
For the briefest flicker, the shadows around him froze.A faint ripple.A pause.
As though the first angel had turned his attention to Astra alone.
A warning? A greeting? A claim?
He did not know.
Astra settled at a long wooden table deep within one of the estate's private dining chambers. The room itself felt carved from night—its ebony pillars veined with faint violet luminescence, its chandeliers sculpted from dark stone, each holding tongues of amber flame that flickered like watchful spirits. Shadows pooled along the corners, not merely cast but alive, stretching and retreating as if studying those who entered.
The feast laid before him was worthy of an ancient house. Roasted mana-beasts glazed in crimson spice, obsidian-honeyed fruits that shimmered softly, and bowls of thick, rich sauces that clung to the plate like enchanted nectar. The aroma was decadent—smoke, spice, and mana interwoven into something intoxicating.
Yet Astra barely tasted it.
His hands trembled faintly as he raised a golden goblet. The cool metal kissed his fingers as he breathed out, letting the warmth of the room and the quiet hum of residual mana sink into him. He hadn't realised how starved he was for a moment of stillness.
Vesper slid into the seat beside him with a boyish grin, leaning in as though intruding upon a secret.
"I see you're enjoying your brief moment of peace, huh, Astra?"
Astra smirked, his violet eyes narrowing with dry amusement. "For now. It's been a while since I sat down and actually ate. These past weeks I've been running around like a lunatic—half my meals were on the move."
Vesper chuckled, stretching his muscular frame until his joints popped. "It did you good." Then he tilted his chin toward the far side of the table, where the contestants of House Shadow were gathering. "So… I know you want to know who else is competing for us, right?"
Astra followed his gaze. Three Rank Twos caught his eye first—young, tense, carrying their mana like coiled bows. But it was the Rank Threes who drew the air tighter around them.
"These two," Vesper said, lowering his voice, "are the ones worth paying attention to."
He gestured to a tall, pale figure with jet-black hair and eyes like pits of endless void.
"Darky Umbra. A pure Shadow Mage. My cousin."
Darky's aura rippled like a cold eclipse, every movement swallowing the light around him. A scion of the main Umbra bloodline—old magic clung to him like a mantle—but Vesper's tone held a note of regret.
"Talent's decent," he muttered. "But he falls short. He's a Scion."
"Not a prince?" Astra asked.
"No." Vesper's jaw tightened. "There hasn't been an heir in seventy-seven years. Not until the day I forged my first mana core."
He didn't explain how the heir was chosen. Astra, of course, knew that much of Shadow's internal rites—especially those tied to angelhood and godhood—were locked behind secrecy deeper than the vaults of duskfall itself. Astra could only guess that the godhood chose its inheritors, the same way it had chosen him. Though which godhood, and why, still eluded him.
Vesper continued on.
"That one is Vox Tenebrous," he said, nodding toward a tall figure cloaked in midnight robes. Vox's long black hair fell like a curtain of ink, and his golden eyes glowed faintly beneath the dim light. "Darkness Mage. Sacred Tenebrous lineage—one of the goddess's favored lines. And yes—another Scion."
Then Vesper turned toward two more figures further down the table.
"For the knights, we've got two worth mentioning."
"Nox of Shadow," he said. "Shadow Mage."
The towering warrior had grey, stone-like skin etched with shifting tattoos that moved like living ink. His magic was suffocating, bending the darkness around him as though he commanded the very substance of the hall. The shadows at his feet twisted like serpents awaiting command.
"The other is Solara Lux."
Her presence was impossible to ignore—a soft radiance pulsed around her, golden armor gleaming with its own inner light. Her amber eyes burned like dawn breaking through an eclipse.
"Nezerac descendant," Vesper said, voice dropping. "Her light can burn through anything—shadows, darkness… even souls."
"What about the rank ones?" Astra asked, he had trained with a couple but they were not worth keeping note of.
"What about them?" Vesper mused. "With me and Velora out the picture, as we already have competed last tournament and placed high, No one has really stood out much from our house...besides you" he smiled knowingly.
Astra nodded. Vesper and Velora had done really well when they were younger, infact if they were competing Astra would no doubt see them placing top five again if not winning the whole thing, and thats for either one of them. But it seems they were not allowed or did not want to compete this year, Astra roughly guessed it was due to him and the plot of Shadow and the Church.
The hall of House Shadow thrummed softly with music—haunting, melodic notes drifting from unseen musicians hidden behind veils of mana. Candlelight flickered like dying stars along the onyx tables as Astra, Vesper, and Velora continued their feast. Plates of spiced serpent, darkwine shimmering in crystal goblets—it felt less like a meal and more like a ritual.
Vesper leaned back, swirling the darkwine as his eyes swept across the gathering contestants. "Anyways, they're not the strongest at their ranks," he admitted. "No house shows its true power for a simple tournament—unless the mages demand to compete." His grin sharpened. "Still… this year, we're stepping up. Shadow's done hiding."
Velora nodded, slicing into a blackened serpent steak with precise movements. "The other houses will learn soon enough. We are no longer just shadows creeping at the edges."
Vesper raised a brow at Astra. "I'm excited to watch you compete. You had some great training."
Velora surprised Astra by agreeing. "Battles change people. Training pushes you… but real combat? It transforms you." Her gaze softened, rare for her. "If you can pressure Vesper and me, you can beat anyone in this tournament."
Before Astra could get a word in, Vesper huffed. "Spare him. I know he's hiding some secret trick or trump cared. He improves too fast and acts like he has something to rely on if something went really bad. And honestly with him? There's always something."
Astra rolled his eyes, though inwardly he acknowledged the truth. Vesper's instincts are too damn good.
He finished his drink and rose from the table, intent on returning to his quarters.
Then a presence approached—quiet, disciplined, unshakable.
A Rank Three knight clad in obsidian armor bowed slightly. "Astra," he said, voice serious and reverent. "The Angel of Shadows has summoned you."
Astra paused.
He expected this… vaguely. But hearing it aloud sent a pulse down his spine.
He adjusted his coat.
"Figures."
Vesper smiled as if he had expected the summons as well."I'll see you guys."
Astra inclined his head, then turned away from the warmth of the dining hall, its golden lights and flickering laughter fading behind him as he stepped into the cool, eternal hush of the estate. Shadows slid across the stone like living things, the faint glow of distant mana-lamps stretching the corridors into endless tunnels of dusk.
The path was long and winding, lined with archways carved in the likeness of beasts and angels. Occasionally a silhouette drifted at the edges of his vision—shadow-walkers, servants, or mere tricks of the estate itself. House Shadow was alive, and it watched him pass with quiet curiosity.
At the estate's heart stood a colossal tower. Its silhouette vanished against the night sky, as though it was carved from the very fabric of darkness rather than stone. Astra ascended its spiral steps, the air growing colder, heavier, more ancient with each floor he climbed.
At the very top, a chamber awaited him.
The room was a sanctuary of power. Dark grey wood paneled the walls, polished so finely they reflected the faint gold filigree that wound through them like veins of starlight. Bookshelves stretched to the ceiling, their black and gold spines whispering secrets older than kingdoms. Weapons rested along the walls—blades, spears, and artifacts radiating mana so potent their presence vibrated in Astra's bones. Mana crystals hovered in the corners like suspended stars, their shifting glow painting the chamber in eerie, celestial hues. Skulls of ancient beasts watched him with hollow sockets still burning with remnant magic.
A single enormous window dominated the far wall, overlooking the vast sprawl of Duskfall. Eternal twilight washed across the city, moonlight piercing through the darkness like a silver blade. The shadows cast by the window stretched long and jagged, shifting like specters dancing to an unseen rhythm.
And in the center of that silver light, wreathed in shadowed coils, stood a figure.
Astra felt it before he truly looked—an aura so deep, so utterly consuming, that the shadows themselves bowed in its presence. The air thickened. The room held its breath.
Then a voice unfurled, smooth as black silk, ancient as the night itself.
"We finally meet, little star."
Astra lifted his gaze—and his breath caught.
The Angel of Shadows stood tall and immaculate. Darkness wrapped around him like a living cloak, coiling and uncoiling at his feet. His skin was pale as sculpted marble, contrasted by hair blacker than a moonless void. His eyes… gods, his eyes were abysses—bottomless, hungry, ancient. Looking into them felt like falling forever.
"I am the Angel of Shadows," he said, voice resonant and impossibly layered. "High King Veylith favored son of Umbra."
The name alone carried weight—history, power, lineage. Astra felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He had stood before Rank Six beings before, but Veylith was different. His presence pressed against Astra's senses like a tidal wave of shadow mana. It wasn't just power. It was primordial. As if the concept of shadow itself had decided to wear a crown.
Astra bowed deeply. "I, Prince Astra Noctis, Caliph of the Church of Night, greet the Angel of Shadows. It is an honor to meet your majesty."
"You know, prince…" Veylith's tone softened to amusement. "When you triggered that ritual—when you reached into the astral realm and claimed that godhood of Stars—one of my shadows was wandering the astral realm. I saw your silhouette. And I saw a certain angel ascend."
Shadows rippled at the syllables, eager and obedient to their king.
Astra stilled.
"At first, I was confused," Veylith continued, pacing leisurely. "Until I felt Umbra's whisper in your blood. A resonance. A tether. It seems," he smiled faintly, "you are blood of my blood, in some distant, ancient way. Miraculous, isn't it?"
Astra's heart tightened. He can't sense the cloak… can he? Or is he probing? He prayed silently he wasn't exposed. Rank Seven is Rank Seven… he might sense a resonance like I did. I checked earlier—nothing. But still.
Aloud, he simply said, "Miraculous indeed. I thought myself kinless… yet I find an angel and an entire house share my lineage. Fate is strange."
Veylith's expression brightened with dark amusement. "Indeed it is. And I won't ask who shields you. I already know." His smile sharpened. "A certain old relic of a dwarf who refuses to retire."
Astra blinked. No surprise, of course he knows about Odin.
"Oh, and seeing the stars shift like that…" Veylith's gaze softened with something like nostalgia. "It brought me joy. Some of my dearest friends and allies were once of your house."
Astra's fingers curled against his thigh. He had always wondered—who were they? What happened? The question escaped before he could stop it.
"Then if I may be so bold your majesty...why didn't you help?" he demanded softly, shadows rising instinctively around his feet. "When my house was plotted against, when they were usurped—why didn't you intervene?"
Silence.
The world seemed to dim. The mana crystals flickered. The shadows deepened into something vast and swallowing.
Veylith's voice dropped to a whisper that chilled the marrow.
"You think I didn't try, little star?"
Astra's pulse throbbed in his ears.
"I thought you were not a normal mortal," Veylith mused. "A little advice for the young prince.. never speak without the full picture. Knowledge is power."
He stepped closer, and the darkness followed like an obedient beast.
"When your ancestors fought… we fought as well."His eyes gleamed."Penumbra was raided by the full force of House Dawn. Led by the Angel of the Morning they sought to end us. Bring forth an age of Light and Radiance" The shadows recoiled at the name.
"They were supported by the Church of Illumination, the devastation was catastrophic. We nearly lost Shadowkeep itself." His voice hardened. "They wanted our complete eradication."
The mana in the room wavered, suffocating.
"But the royal houses, churches and even the gods learned a painful lesson that day."
Astra felt chills across his spine.
"Shadows are not destroyed so easily." High king Veylith declared, the shadows around him pulsing as the light in the room dimmed.
Astra swallowed his bitterness, understanding dawning like a cold sunrise." An angels mere displeasure can bring forth this level of suppression and power.... Gods."
Veylith tilted his head. "Does that answer your question little star?"
Astra nodded quietly.
Veylith studied him. "I sense your blessing is fully rooted. How fortunate—and unfortunate—that you crossed paths with that devil...The Harbinger of Twisted Truths"
Astra stiffened. "The Harbinger of Twisted Truths…" he whispered. This was the first time he had learned of his name.
"Mm." Veylith chuckled. "A devil of unprecedented power. Peak Rank Six. Capable of clashing with Seraphs and Sins. Perfectly sane, despite his infamous persona. Manipulative. Calculating. Vile."
Shadows hissed like distant serpents.
"Where he walks, calamity follows. It amuses him."
Astra exhaled through clenched teeth. "Does his majesty know why he blessed me?"
Veylith shrugged. "He spoke of 'plans within plans.' Devils never answers straight. He said he found you 'interesting,' which is… concerning."
"His majesty spoke with him?" Astra asked a little shocked. "I had thought you two vanished to battle."
"Oh, we did." Veylith's smile was wicked. "His strength is unrivaled at rank six, he has achieved heights not many can reach. And to think that such a being invested such a potent blessing into a Rank One? Fascinating."
His expression gentled the slightest fraction.
"Ironically, the blessing helps you more than it harms you Prince. As for my own? It wouldn't matter. You are already Umbra's child. And the Night gods heir. A mere angels blessing would not compare nor shine when you bear a Godhood and a Devils blessing."
He lifted his hand.
"As such however I will bestow upon you this."
A small, black marble floated above his palm—pulsing gently like a heart.
"If you ever find yourself trapped by any divine being… let a flicker of thought touch this stone." His voice deepened, rich with promise."And I will rise from your shadow. No matter where or when."
Astra reached out. The moment his fingers brushed the marble, a cold pulse threaded through his veins—a tether forming in the abyss.
"But know this," Veylith warned softly. "It only works in the presence of divinity. And all gates have conditions."
He stepped forward, the shadows closing around him like a crown.
"Now, prince… perform well. You are the star of this show. Caliph to a Church even at your age. Ludicrous exceptions will constantly arise and constantly you are to meet them lest you fail in your pursuit."
His smile sharpened like a blade.
"You have the right to godhood. An honor angels would happily fight to the death for, you are no mere mortal, your future is filled with chaos and bloodshed, the shadows of your decisions will span entire realms. Your appearance..here and now. It is perfectly timed"
Astra inhaled sharply. That's the third rank six who's hinted at that. Why are all of them cryptic charlatans? he thought, groaning inwardly.
Veylith raised a hand toward the window, toward the vast twlight night sky.
"Get strong Prince. The stars await."
A thoughtful smile curved his lips. "And never forget the words of your house… through adversity, to the stars."
Astra felt something warm flicker in his chest.
"..Thank you, Angel of Shadows."
Veylith's smile deepened.
"The pleasure is mine, little star."