Darkness.
Not the kind that comes with closed eyes or a moonless night—but a thick, crushing dark. The kind that lives behind the stars and between thoughts. Kyle stood in it barefoot, his breath fogging though there was no air, no cold, no wind.
Only presence.
It began as a tremor in his bones—then grew louder. A hum. A pulse. Like a heartbeat—but not his own.
Then: a voice.
"You've finally come."
Kyle turned, but there was no direction here. Just the void. And the weight of something old watching him from within.
He swallowed. "Where am I?"
"Home." The voice coiled like smoke around him, neither male nor female, ancient and intimate. "Or a shadow of it."
A flicker ahead. A shape began to form—tall, slender, vaguely human, but endlessly shifting. It had no face, just eyes like dying stars. It approached slowly, as if time bent with its steps.
"You've felt me stirring, haven't you? In the duel. In the tower."
Kyle's fists clenched. "What are you?"
"A shard. A sliver. A secret buried too deep." The being tilted its head. "But most importantly… a part of you."
"You're not me."
"No? Well, that can change." The entity began morphing into a more familiar shape. It looked exactly like Kyle, but as a shadow now. "I was placed in you. Long before you had a name. I am what was needed. What they feared. What they called a Voidspawn."
Kyle's breath hitched. "I didn't ask for this."
"And yet you survived it. Have you ever wondered why and how those rumors were so... personal and accurate? Sure, you stupidly gave out info that you came from a deadzone. But how many people truly knew who you were and how you got into this academy?"
The shape drew closer. Kyle stepped back, but the void offered no escape. The figure didn't touch him, but the space between them ached.
"You want to be normal. But they will never let you. Not the nobles. Not the academy. Not even your friends. They pity you. That's not loyalty. That's fear in disguise."
"That's not true," Kyle snapped, though something in him hesitated.
"Then test them. Show them what you are. See who stays."
The void rippled. The shape leaned forward, voice colder now.
"They call me dangerous. They're right. Because I know what you could become. Yet you are so resistant, to even deny a part of yourself—for what?" The shadow dissolved and surrounded him, the voice coming from everywhere.
A hand ran its fingers along his chin. "Back then, when you killed that boar. You felt it, right? The release, the joy of not holding back. I can give that to you, Kyle. It's as much my power as it is yours."
Kyle tried to speak, but his voice broke.
"You are a vessel, Kyle, that much we both know. But not an empty one. I can give you clarity. Control. Strength. All you have to do is let me merge with you completely."
"…What's the price?"
The being didn't answer.
Its eyes simply widened—
—and Kyle fell.
He shot upright in bed, gasping, drenched in sweat. His sheets were tangled, his heart pounding.
The rune-light above his dorm flickered slightly before stabilizing.
It was just past dawn.
Kyle sat still, trying to slow his breathing. The dream clung to him—not like fog, but like oil. Heavy. Staining. Every word, every whisper from that thing echoed in his skull.
"You are a vessel."
He looked at his hands. They didn't shake. That scared him more than if they had.
A knock at his door broke the silence.
"Kyle?" came Vera's voice. "You alive in there?"
He dragged himself up, threw on his coat, and opened the door.
Vera raised an eyebrow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I think I was one," he muttered.
Cynric leaned against the far wall, arms folded. "Figured you could use a change of pace. Come with us. I'm sure you remember our talk yesterday."
Kyle blinked. "Of course. Lead the way, boss."
"That's more like it," Vera said, already turning while chuckling. "No instructors. No crowds. Just us."
Cynric smirked. "Time for some extracurricular education."
The training grounds were tucked behind a collapsed tower on the northern edge of the campus—well outside the main wards. The path was cracked with rootwork and silence. Here, the academy's polish faded, replaced by raw stone and windblown dirt.
The field itself was an open ring of old marble columns, half of them crumbled. Wild grass poked through the ground. Scorch marks littered the area from past practices.
Cynric cracked his neck. "We figured after all that nonsense, you deserved something the staff won't give you—an edge."
"Bit ahead of your class," Vera added, drawing her wand. "But you can handle it."
Kyle looked between them. "Why are you doing this?"
Cynric tossed him a practice focus rod. "Because you didn't up and run when everyone turned heel on you. And because if it were us in your shoes, we'd want someone to believe we were more than what the rumors said."
He caught the rod, a bit stunned.
"Now," Vera said with a sharp grin, "let's see what you've got."
They started simple.
Cynric ran him through motionless casting—no incantations, just pure will, something usually reserved for top second-years. Kyle struggled at first, but when he stopped thinking and just felt, the mana came quicker, smoother. Like it wanted to be used.
Yes, feel more of the mana. Become more in tune with it. A voice rang in Kyle's head. He knew exactly where it came from.
"Not bad," Cynric said, nodding. "Your body seems to naturally conduct the mana. I'm impressed."
Then Vera taught him how to manipulate an opponent's perception—basic illusion weaving. Kyle faltered, then surprised even himself with a simple cast that blurred his position for three seconds.
"That's good, but it seems illusion magic isn't really your thing," she said. "But you're not even burned out. I know you're doubting yourself, but take it from us third-years—your abilities, although lacking refinement, are impressive, Kyle."
See? Even that child acknowledges our power. So why deny me, Kyle? Just accept me—and see who truly will stand by you.
Kyle breathed deep, focus returning from the voice in his head. Each movement, each lesson sharpened him.
Even as the shadow from his dream lingered… training made it quieter.
By midday, Kyle sat on a stone with his water flask, watching Vera and Cynric spar for a round. Dust rose between their clashing spells.
He turned inward.
The entity was still there—coiled and waiting.
But for now, it stayed quiet.
And maybe… just maybe… he could learn enough before it spoke again.