The forest of Ilnar was ancient—its trees thick as towers, their leaves silencing the sky above. It was a place untouched by war or man, considered sacred ground by the old tribes. Even beasts avoided it.
But something else had arrived.
Graxion's bare feet barely disturbed the moss as he moved between trees. Shadows slithered beneath him, now constant companions. They no longer asked for direction. They simply were. Like breath. Like blood.
> [System Notice: You are now within a Sacred Zone.]
Light energy density: High. Shadow suppression: 42%.
He tensed. This place hurt him. His power—fluid and ever-present—now throbbed under resistance. It felt like wading through fire while wrapped in chains.
> "Why are we here?" he whispered.
The shadows whispered back, for once… uncertain.
> "Something ancient stirs. Something that remembers us."
---
He sensed it before he saw it.
A presence. Bright. Still. Like standing before a frozen sun. It waited at the center of a grove—where the trees gave way to a circle of white stones.
There, standing with blade drawn and eyes closed, was a man clad in armor of silver and gold, his skin glowing faintly, his hair white as starlight.
> "So," the man said, eyes snapping open, "you are the new vessel of the void."
Graxion stepped forward slowly. "You know of me?"
> "I know what you carry. I was the one who sealed its last host."
His shadow curled instinctively, defensive.
> "Graxion," the man continued, "you are not the first to awaken that power. But you may be the last."
> "Who are you?"
> "I am Seraphen, Lightbringer of the First Flame. Keeper of balance. Killer of darkness. I was sent not to punish… but to end."
The blade in his hand shimmered—not metal, but pure condensed light.
The shadows around Graxion hissed, recoiling.
> "I don't want your war," Graxion said, voice low. "I didn't ask for this."
> "Neither did the last shadow. He said the same. Right before he burned."
The grove pulsed. Every leaf. Every stone. Every breath of air trembled in the light's presence.
And then Seraphen moved.
Faster than thought, faster than instinct.
Graxion raised a hand just in time, shadows erupting in a dome around him. The blade struck it with a sound like cracking thunder. The light pierced through six layers of darkness before slowing.
Graxion slid back, breath hitched. His shoulder smoked.
> [System Alert: Structural Shadow Barrier compromised. Regeneration in progress.]
Suggestion: Retreat or Engage with Enhanced Hostility.
> "You are strong," Seraphen said, circling. "But your foundation is unstable. That power will eat you alive before I need to."
Graxion's eyes flared.
> "Then stop talking," he growled. "And try."
The forest exploded into black and white.
Shadows tore through trees like vipers. Light split the ground like judgment. The two forces collided again and again—each blow of Graxion's tendrils countered by radiant slashes, each step forward scorched by holy flame.
But for every burst of light, more shadows rose.
For every cut that bled darkness, the void stitched him whole again.
And then… Graxion smiled.
> "You're wrong, Seraphen," he said. "This isn't eating me. It's becoming me."
With a roar, he surged forward—not as a boy, not even as a man—but as something new.
> [Skill Unlocked: Shadow Infusion]
[Passive Ability Evolved: Shadow Regeneration → Abyssal Core]
The next strike knocked Seraphen back. The next melted his blade's edge. The third… broke the grove.
The final clash left both panting. Wounded. Staring.
> "You are not like the last," Seraphen whispered, falling to one knee.
> "No," Graxion said coldly, stepping closer. "I'm worse."
The blade of light shattered.
And the shadows swallowed the grove.