Chapter 3: Nightshades' Call
Nevermore's crypts were a damp, cold labyrinth, their rough-hewn stone walls slick with moisture, carved with ancient runes pulsing with a sickly green glow, casting eerie, claw-like shadows across the uneven floor strewn with dust and broken relics. The air was thick with the scent of earth, mold, and a metallic tang of magic that prickled Adama Stiels' skin like static, a constant reminder of the school's dark underbelly. He stood with Wednesday Addams, Enid Sinclair, Bianca Barclay, Xavier Thorpe, and Ajax Petropolus, their torchlight flickering, illuminating a Nightshades initiation chamber, its stone altar etched with raven motifs that seemed to watch them. Adama's purple-striped uniform was rumpled, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his Copy System HUD glowing faintly: [System: 0 Ultimate Skill Cards. Active Skills: Ultimate Illusion Creation, Ultimate Immortal Body.]Nightshades? I'm basically in the Justice League of Nevermore now, he thought, his lopsided grin a beacon in the crypt's gloom, his heart steady despite the oppressive atmosphere.
Wednesday led the test mission, her black braids stark against her pale skin, her dark eyes sharp with focus, her black dress a gothic contrast to the stone, her crossbow gripped tightly. "Prove your worth, Stiels," she said, her voice a cold guillotine, her posture rigid with expectation. "Don't waste my time." Adama nodded, his confidence a defiant spark, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "This crypt's creepier than a DC crossover event gone wrong," he said, his voice laced with bravado, like Barry Allen quipping before a fight. A magical ward flared, its runes glowing red, the air crackling with energy. Adama focused: [System: Ultimate Illusion Creation Activated.] A vivid illusion unfolded—a faction ambush materialized, cloaked figures attacking with glowing runes, their movements synchronized like a cult in a horror flick. Adama's illusion countered the ward, projecting a safe path, the runes dimming as the team advanced, their cheers echoing, his skill earning their trust.
The Nightshades uncovered a runed scroll on the altar, its text hinting at Joseph Crackstone's lingering influence, a faction plotting Nevermore's downfall. Wednesday's eyes narrowed, her pale fingers tracing the scroll's runes, her mind dissecting its secrets. "This scroll confirms the faction's reach," she murmured, her voice low and intense, like a storm building, her glance at Adama sparking with approval. Score one for the chaotic sidekick, he thought, his pulse racing like a speedrun record. A scrape from a jagged stone stung his arm, but his Ultimate Immortal Body healed it, the skin knitting together, leaving no trace.
To boost morale, Adama pranked Bianca, spotting her practicing fencing in the quad, her amber eyes sharp, her braids glinting like polished obsidian. He focused: [System: Ultimate Illusion Creation Activated.] Her fencing sword twisted into a comical spiral, sparking laughter as students gathered, Bianca glaring but chuckling, her voice warm. "Your pranks are chaos, Stiels, but I'm impressed," she said, her siren poise unshaken, their bond strengthening. Enid's werewolf senses detected the scroll's hidden compartment, her claws glinting as she pried it open, her pink sweater bright in the crypt's gloom, her blue eyes flashing yellow. "You're making us epic, Adama!" she said, her tail flicking with pride, her confidence soaring under his nod, their friendship deepening through an extended chat about her werewolf struggles, Adama's quips easing her nerves.
The team lingered in the crypt, their voices blending in the torchlit gloom, Wednesday's deductions sharp, Enid's insights sensory, Bianca's strategy firm, Xavier's phantom ravens scouting, Ajax's gorgon stare disabling a minor ward. Their trust in Adama solidified, his leadership chaotic but effective. In his dorm, moonlight spilled through a cracked window, casting raven-like shadows that twisted like omens of the fight to come. The scroll's clues gnawed at him, his memories of home—late-night quips, superhero marathons—blurring, his new reality sharp with menace. Level three, and the campaign's heating up. He checked the HUD: [System: 0 Ultimate Skill Cards. Active Skills: Ultimate Illusion Creation, Ultimate Immortal Body.] "Game's getting serious," he murmured, sleep claiming him, the night fading, the scroll's secrets whispering of a Hyde threat to come.
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