Chapter 50 – The City Beneath the Moon
Part 1: Where Monsters Learn to Rule
The path after the Trial was long—descending into blackstone tunnels carved by hands that no longer existed. The deeper Ariz walked, the warmer the air became, tinged with sulfur and something more ancient: magic left alive too long.
He emerged after an hour into open night—though no light came from above.
The Bloodmoon hung where it always did, but now it looked closer—massive, swollen, cracked with molten seams like an eye that refused to blink.
Below it stretched a city.
Not a town.
Not a fortress.
A nation hidden behind mountains, veiled by night and guarded by trials no sane being would take.
[System Notification: You Have Entered — The Bloodmoon Academy Grounds]
Realm Type: Sovereign TerritoryRank: Grand Independent City-State
Population Estimate: 120,000+Dominant Races: Vampiric Nobles / Werewolf Tribes / Necrotic Lineages / Blood-Linked Beastkin / Umbrakin Archives (Extinct — 1/1)
"This is not a school.This is where kingdoms are born in silence."
At the center stood the main spire—a needle of obsidian that pulsed with power, large enough to hold a hundred floors.
It was surrounded by tiered platforms and grand walkways that spiraled outward like veins.
Each section pulsed with life:
Market bazaars lit by floating red glyphs
Weapon forges glowing like heart chambers
Taverns that bled music and smoke into the sky
Training fields where people sparred using magic that cracked the stone underfoot
Ariz stood at the edge of it all, cloak brushing against obsidian tile.
No gate. No guards.
The Trial was the only key.
He walked forward.
No one stopped him.
But eyes followed him—some glowing, some blinking from windows, some not eyes at all.
They saw his skin, pale like moonlight on steel.They saw the violet tattoos pulsing like runes of intent.They saw his eyes.
And looked away.
The first official he met was waiting just past the outer plaza.
Not armored.
Not stern.
A tall, scholarly man with parchment in one hand, and a pen that bled black ink from the tip like it was wounded.
He looked up.
Paused.
Smiled without teeth.
"You're the Umbrakin."
Ariz didn't answer.
The man nodded like he didn't expect him to.
"I am Archivist Venhaal. You passed Hollowwind—solo. That makes you rare. And makes us interested."
He flicked a piece of parchment into the air. It hovered, unrolling itself.
"Name?""Ariz al Sulieman.""Race?""Umbrakin.""Division?""Shadow."
The paper rolled back.
"So be it."
Venhaal pointed behind him.
"Go to the Upper Crescent. You'll be assigned living quarters, combat training, and spell theory schedule. Don't be late."
Then, quieter:"Most who pass the Trial come here thinking they're already strong. They die quickly."
Ariz didn't respond.
He was already walking away.
[System Log: Enrolled in Bloodmoon Academy]
Division: ShadowRank: ExpertClassification: Newblood (Elite Track)
"You're not here to survive.You're here to learn how to erase those who do."
As Ariz walked toward the Academy's inner ring, a group of students passed him—some wolf-kin with scars along their jaws, a tall vampiress with blood-ruby earrings, and something… stitched, breathing slowly from inside a hood.
They moved aside when they saw his eyes.
One of them whispered: "That's him."
Another: "The Umbrakin."
They didn't stop him.
But they didn't forget him, either.
Above them all, the grand tower pulsed once—like a heart that had waited years to beat again.
And somewhere deep within it…
someone noticed that beat.