House Shadow Estate rested beneath Duskfall's eternal twilight when Astra jolted awake, breath tearing into his lungs as though he had surfaced from deep water. For a heartbeat he didn't know where he was—only that flame and void still clashed behind his eyes, laughter and pain bleeding together in the echo of a battle that felt more like prophecy than memory. Light and dark had danced, collided, and fallen into silence.
His body ached everywhere at once. Not the sharp pain of wounds, but the deep, resonant ache of limits abused beyond reason. His memories came in fragments: the roar of the coliseum, the descent of suns, the sensation of barely walking out of the arena before the world tilted and healers rushed in.
He sat upright, drenched in sweat, muscles screaming despite having been healed. It was a reminder of how far he had pushed himself. His eyes snapped to the mana-clock glowing faintly along the wall.
"fifteen hours!"
Panic struck him instantly. The semifinals. His heart dropped. Had he missed them? Had everything ended while he lay unconscious? He was on his feet before the thought finished forming, joints protesting viciously as he reached for his coin. The obsidian disk warmed in his palm, unfolded into a shimmering projection, and Astra ignored the flood of messages, going straight to the standings.
Semi-Finals.Lord Astra of Shadow vs. Prince Arrats Xolotl of Dusk.Victor: Astra of Shadow. By Forfeit.Finalist: Astra of Shadow.
He read it once. Then again. Then again. What?...
A clip auto-played footage of the Dusk Prince clashing with a prodigal mage from Dunya. Astra leaned closer, immediately struck by the strangeness of the mage's power. It was creation magic, but not in any form he recognized. Where most mages painstakingly shaped elemental mana into constructs, this mage made things—manifesting weapons from their actual materials, not approximations. Multiple creations appeared at once, varying in size and rank, culminating in a colossal Rank Two hammer that crashed down from the air and sent the prince hurtling into the arena barriers.
Even stranger was the light the mage wielded—not true radiance, but something phantom-like, used both to attack and to reinforce his creations, feeding his arsenal as the battle escalated.
Rank two prowess at rank one without a domain..."How monstrous." Astra sighed. Truly there was never a shortage of prodigies in the realms.
Crazier yet.
At the final exchange, as the scion summoned a massive spear into an ultimate spell of sorts one teeming with Rank Two power and hurled it down, the footage changed. The Dusk Prince began to glow. True darkness swallowed the arena, a different kind of radiance forming around him, followed by a detonation that wasn't magic but essence. To most spectators, it was chaos—but Astra understood. Rank Three sensors and knights and demigods with investigative sight had seen the truth.
The prince compressed darkness around the spear and shattered it completely. The mage collapsed.
And in that moment, the prince ascended.
Right there in the arena, forced into evolution by pressure, intent, and battle—just as Lucien had been. A phenomenon rare elsewhere, but infamous in this tournament. A crucible designed to push combatants past their limits without true death, where ascension was a risk many sought deliberately.
But the rules were absolute. Ascension meant withdrawal. Further more the mage, who wielded creation magic had been hurt so badly his house had withdrawn him and sent him back to Dunya. And since the opponent fell, Astra advanced in the tournament. "how convenient." Astra laughed as he sensed something a miss. Like a spiderweb slowly unfurling. The feeling disappeared as fast as it had appeared.
He exhaled slowly, tension draining from his chest. "Impressive," he murmured. "I wonder what kind of core he forged."
His gaze lowered as the realization finally settled.
"Damn…" A quiet laugh escaped him, disbelief threading through it. He was a finalist of the Spring Time Advent Tournament. Truly. Only nine weeks ago, he had been a starving fugitive at the very bottom of Duskfall's food chain, hunted by law and bounty alike. Now he stood as a champion of House Shadow, having carved his way into the finals against all odds.
He stood still for a long moment, letting the weight of it wash over him like cold air on scorched skin.
Then he reached inward and tapped into the mana network.
It detonated.
His messages had exploded—mentions, reposts, slowed footage of his final clash against Lucien. The infamous moment: Shadowfall meeting Sunset in an ultimate spell clash.
Astra's Shadowfyre, a rare affinity not manifested often allegedly. Luciens swordsman ship. Astras tenecaity. It was all talked about. Before this duel. Astra and Lucien were already competing on the mana network. It was the buzz of the tournament. They were talked about the mostl, their fight had viewership records that matched finals level matches at rank two, and in fact it had surpassed that. The attention was there.
And not just the duel.
The aftermath spread through the realms like wildfire, whispered first and then shouted, until the ascension of Lucien Solaris to Rank Two became the only thing anyone spoke of—the clash, the exchange of words, the moment where shadow met sun and refused to yield. It was being called mythic, and for once the title was not exaggeration; Lucien had risen as a Rank Two bearing two Mythical cores, a truth conspicuously absent from every official report, as if House Dawn itself had decided that some victories were too dangerous to reveal in full.
Commentators screamed their comparisons across every channel—was this the birth of the next great champion of shadows, the herald of an ending era?—while theorists from every realm slowed the battle frame by frame, obsessing over the instant where darkness consumed light, not overwhelmed it but devoured it, and what such a thing meant politically, metaphysically, historically. House Shadow said nothing. House Dawn, predictably, declared that no matter the age or the challenger, they would remain supreme. Tensions were rising between a lot of great houses in the background as well.
The realm burned with speculation, and Astra found himself watching it all with a distant calm, knowing even now that he did not fully grasp the consequences of what he had done. He had discovered a true counterspell, one of equal caliber to the legendary Sun of Dawn itself, a royal masterpiece cultivated and refined across untold generations since the founding of House Dawn, and he—a mere adopted noble of shadow—had answered it, halted it, devoured it.
The experts were already floundering. One analyst's words echoed in his mind with faint amusement: "This Rank One spell defies conventional logic. It leeches the solar essence directly from Prince Lucien's domain construct and feeds it into shadow. Such a phenomenon should be impossible without near-perfect S-rank shadow affinity. And for shadows to withstand the sun? That is not affinity alone—that is devotion. House Shadow now possesses two unmatched shadow users at Rank One with insane potential: Prince Vesperion… and Lord Astra." He allowed himself a slight smirk. Not many had truly understood what they were seeing.
For now, his gamble had worked. His star magic remained cloaked beneath layers of shadow and misdirection. But he was not foolish enough to believe that would last.
House Shadow's angels already knew of his existence; he would have been more surprised if they had not. It was entirely possible he had already spoken to some of them without realizing it—he had conversed with three saints so far and sensed nothing amiss, but Shadow had always favored secrecy, anonymity, the quiet hand rather than the visible blade.
Lucien Solaris, however, had learned something. Astra's paranoia told him the prince had felt the echo of celestial affinity beneath the shadow, had glimpsed either who Astra was or at least what he wielded. Lucien had sworn to keep his secret, but Astra would rather choke and die than trust the word of a crown prince, and so House Dawn was classified, in his mind, as knowing.
That left the demigods and the handful of angels whose attention had turned toward the match, some of whom might have suspected the truth, though Astra doubted it. Power alone could not uncover what he hid—only affinity could, and true S-rank shadow affinity was rare even among monsters, and magic could not be felt through a screen or from such distances.
At most, only a few had pieced it together—and if they had, Astra did not truly care. He had plans for the finals, plans that would shake the realms far harder than this revelation ever could.
He shut the feed and leaned back, releasing a slow breath, yet the memory of the spell clung to his spine like frost, something he could still feel in his bones.
Shadowfall. It was not merely a spell; it was a declaration of Astra's potential. No matter how incomplete.
Unlike Lucien's Sun of Dawn, a manifestation born of divine harmony and celestial right, summoned effortlessly and sustained by its own perfection, Shadowfall demanded everything from its wielder: a battlefield saturated with celestial mana, a celestial anchor binding both caster and target, a will strong enough to subdue the mana, and an S-rank affinity to shadow as well as celestial affinity of the user. It was not a true weapon yet, not in the strict sense, but a phenomenon born of desperation, an incomplete domain spell—and yet, when it worked, it did not respect rank at all. It broke it.
He chuckled softly, imagining analysts tearing out their hair trying to classify something that refused to fit neatly into their systems. Magic, after all, obeyed classifications—offensive, defensive, hybrid, and healing—with two higher subcategories that bridged them all: ultimate and domain. Within those classifications existed both power and quality, power determined by rank, and quality by affinity scale from E through D, C, B, A, and finally S.
Offensive spells were defined by intent to harm, ranging from overwhelming firepower to slow, insidious curses and weakening effects; defensive spells existed to protect; hybrids carried both properties; healing stood apart as its own discipline. But ultimate and domain spells were the pinnacle of mana, the true measure of a mage, the trump cards that ended wars or decided legends. An ultimate spell was one that had reached its full effect potential regardless of rank, often displaying absurd power whether offensive, defensive, or restorative, and most serious mages possessed at least a lesser version of one.
Domains, however, were rarer still, requiring not only strong affinity—B-tier at minimum—but a suitable environment, a will capable of subjugating mana, and a level of manipulation bordering on madness, the ability to sustain multiple effects simultaneously. When unleashed, domains reshaped battlefields, spanning wide areas and enforcing layered rules upon reality.
And yet some spells shattered even these boundaries. The Sun of Dawn was such a spell, combining offense, defense, and healing into a self-sustaining construct of S-rank quality that could even be collapsed into an ultimate form—Sunset—where the entire structure detonated in apocalyptic release. Astra had felt its wrath firsthand and had not dared remain beneath that cursed sun a heartbeat longer than necessary.
He had barely understood what it meant to attempt a domain during his battle with Lucien, despite striving toward one for far longer, and even now Shadowfall remained incomplete, a construct in need of refinement. But success had given him inspiration, possibilities unfolding endlessly in his mind.
Astra rose from his bed with a quiet sigh. There was work to be done. His next opponent was Aster of Hunt, and stagnation was death.
It was the fifth day. Two days remained until the finals, where every ranking duel would be compressed into a single day of spectacle by ancient tradition and ritual symmetry.
Fine.
Two days to rest. Two days to prepare.
Aster of Hunt.
Astra began skimming his messages.
Vesper had sent three—loud and unapologetic.
"You madman. I thought you exploded. I'm buying you a drink even if you're half-dead. Also: we're training that domain spell of yours. Don't argue."
Alistair's was cryptic as ever:
"It worked. Don't worry. But it didn't work on them..."
Typical.
Velora, ever cold and exact:
"I admit it. You impressed me. Don't die before the finals."
And then another
Seraphine.
"I need to see you."
Astra paused.
Read the line again.
Then tilted his head and laughed under his breath, rubbing at his temples.
"Is she a groupie now or something?"
He didn't open it.
Not yet.
Instead, he let the shadows curl around him again. Cool. Silent. Loyal.
His body still ached. His mind still burned.
But beneath it all—beneath the fatigue and pressure and noise—there was something else.
...
Time passed—slowly, but it didn't matter. Astra let the hours slip by in quiet reflection, his mind a whirl of half-formed thoughts and restless tension. Eventually, the ache in his body settled, but it was replaced by something deeper—a growing recognition of the weight he carried now. The weight of the world, of expectations.
As the eternal twilight of Duskfall bled into a deeper shade of violet, casting long, shifting shadows across the estate, Astra stood up, his movements quiet but purposeful. His hand brushed against the walls of his chambers, finding the cool, steady stone beneath his fingertips, grounding himself in the present.
He left the estate, stepping out into the vast courtyard of House Shadow. His eyes narrowed against the shifting light, his body already slipping into the rhythm of the shadows.
But something had changed.
The usual noise of the estate—the chatter of servants, the rustling of nobles in the distance—fell silent as he walked. The shadows weren't the only thing that seemed to follow him now. The eyes of House Shadow's nobility were on him. Silent. Appraising. And there was something else. Awe. Unease. A new kind of wariness.
The path stretched ahead, the stone tiles beneath his boots a familiar rhythm. But now, every step felt different. Every movement seemed to carry the weight of their gaze. They were watching him like they watched Vesperion—a prodigy, a scion whose every action seemed imbued with some kind of destiny. There was no mistaking it.
The whispers started at the edges, too quiet to make out but loud enough to carry on the winds of House Shadow's halls.
"Is he the next one? The next... prodigy?"
"Did you see the match? The shadows... they obey him like they do with lord Vesperion."
"Rank One... he's only just begun. What will he do when he truly ascends?"
The nobles, from the highest of them to those barely above the dust, all watched with similar expressions—either in awe or with a calculating sharpness that spoke of their instincts to assess the potential threat, or the potential opportunity.
He wasn't the same Astra who had walked these halls a week ago.
He wasn't the same Astra who had bled under the weight of a thousand bruises.
The heavy door leading into the training wing of the estate loomed before him like a sentinel. Inside, there would be no politics. No smiles. No masks. Just sweat, silence, and the kind of pain that made you better.
And there, at the far end of the corridor, leaned Vesperion—tall, relaxed, like he owned the hallway and possibly the entire moonlit sky above it. His arms were crossed, and his smile? Infuriatingly smug.
"Princess," Vesperion drawled, his voice calm and laced with amusement. "You've been busy."
No teasing lilt this time. No overt mockery. Just... something quieter. A weight in the words. Like he saw the shift in Astra before Astra did.
Astra smirked, unwilling to give him more than that. "You didn't think I'd sit this one out, did you? I do have Aster Hunt in the finals you know.."
Vesper's grin grew, but his eyes sharpened. "You're not who you were when you walked through these doors." He pushed off the wall and approached, his presence as casual as it was commanding. "This isn't just about power anymore. Not for you."
Astra's smile faded slightly, the truth in those words landing harder than expected. He nodded once. "I know."
No more masks. No more pretending. He felt it the moment the nobles started watching him—not with disdain—but with calculation.
He wasn't just Astra of House Shadow anymore.
Vesperion motioned toward the door behind him, stepping aside. "Let's make sure you're ready for it. Come. I've set up something special." Astra's gaze sharpened. It was as if the weight of the moment was building again, pressing down on his shoulders, urging him forward into something larger than himself. The door creaked open with a soft, welcoming groan, revealing a quiet, isolated training room beyond. Inside, the air was thick with mana, flickering with the intensity of controlled power. "You've got three days," Vesperion said, his tone shifting to something more focused. "We'll see how much you can refine in that time. No distractions. No games."
Astra stepped inside, and the door shut with a thud that echoed like a seal being carved into fate.
Then—
Vesperion let out a low whistle as the door clicked shut behind them, sealing them off from the world. The shadows curled around him like puppies that had missed their master, practically purring with glee. "Dude," he grinned, eyes shining with excitement, "that was sick. You obliterated those smug Dawn bastards. Like—do you see the way they flinched at the end? They're definitely gonna be watching you now. Might even try to assassinate you." He paused dramatically, raising a brow.
"Which is hilarious, because—surprise! You're actually kinda terrifying." Astra snorted, but Vesperion wasn't done. "Also," Vesperion said, stepping closer with that annoying glint of 'I-know-something-you-don't' in his eyes, "I want to learn that spell. That flashy, freaky, what-the-hell-was-that spell. But... let's be real." His grin grew sharper. "I'm basically you, but buffer, prettier, and with even sexier shadow magic."
A beat. Then a grin like knives.
The shadows hummed, clearly siding with Vesper.
Astra raised an eyebrow. "You know...you're insufferable."
"Thank you, thank you, I do try." Vesper clapped a hand to his heart, mock solemn. "But hey—jokes aside. That spell you cast? Not just shadow."
"But hey," he added, lifting his hands in surrender, "I'm not gonna pry. That wasn't just shadow mana. Most shadowcasters might sense it, but they won't get it. Not really. But me?" He tapped his chest. "I do know you. So yeah, whatever that was—it's fine. I've got my own weird domain stuff too."
Astra's gaze sharpened as he cocked his head, intrigued despite himself. "You keep saying that, but I've never actually seen your 'true magic.' You're saying you've got weird magic too?"
Vesperion gave him an exaggerated look of offense. "Excuse you. That's because you weren't strong enough before. I didn't want to melt your brain, you adorable little fledgling. And oh, please. Weird doesn't even cover it."
Vesper replied, shadows flickering at his fingertips. "I've got stuff I haven't shown you yet because I didn't want your brain to melt. But now?" He looked him over. "Now you're terrifying enough to handle it."
"Charming."
"Thank you. But now?" He gave Astra a once-over, nodding approvingly. "Now you're scary enough to handle it. Between that curse of yours and your freaky shadow speed, you're basically a blur with a vendetta. Honestly, if I didn't know you, I'd be terrified."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, seriously," Vesperion said, suddenly more genuine, though the smile lingered. "You're fast, Astra. Too fast. That curse? That affinity? It's not just giving you power—it's turning you into something else. Something people don't have a word for yet. Not quite devil-touched, not quite divine, just… weird. In a good way."
He stepped back and let his shadows stretch across the floor like spilled ink, curling into runes and glyphs. "Which is why we need to get you a domain spell. Your own. One that's just shadow, your version of it. Something pure. Something filthy and beautiful and entirely yours."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "And what, you're gonna help me find that?"
"I'm your older, hotter magical twin," Vesper said, beaming. "Of course I am."
"And what's your domain spell then, oh mighty one?" Vesperion's grin widened until it looked almost mischievous. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Astra rolled his eyes. "I asked, didn't I?"
Vesper gave a low laugh. "Okay, fine. I'll show you... eventually. It's kind of a whole thing. Lots of flair. A bit dramatic. Involves screaming and probably atmospheric music. You know how the fun stuff... oh great Lord of Shadowfall."
Astra rolled his eyes.
Vesperion leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, a smug little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Alright, since you're finally strong enough to walk without tripping over your own talent," he said, eyes twinkling, "I'll let you in on a tiny little secret. Just a crumb." Astra raised an eyebrow.
"Is this going to be one of those secrets that everyone kind of knows, but also pretends they don't because politics?"
"Exactly!" Vesper beamed, as if Astra had just solved a particularly clever riddle.
"See? You're catching on." He held up a hand, and with a lazy flick of his fingers, a flame sparked into being and his dark eyes glowed with a subtle tinge of dark red. The flame wasn't normal—not by any means. It flickered with deep crimson and oily black edges, warping the air around it like heat haze from a broken mirror. The flame pulsed, humming with wrongness. It felt alive. Hungry.
The shadows in the room didn't shrink from it—they danced, wild and eager, like something had just whispered chaos into their ears.
Astra's curse flared—hard. Threads pulled tight in his chest. The flame was more than fire. It was something else.
"Wha—" he breathed.
"This," Vesper said, casually, "is the part where most people start running. Or screaming. Or both, honestly. But you? You get a private demo. Congratulations."
Astra stared, his curse now screeching as it tried to thread together fire, shadow, chaos, and peace. He spoke softly, as if the truth might unravel him. "That's... not just flame."
"Nah," Vesper shrugged. "It's not. It's Shadowflame."
He said it like a joke, but the air dropped a degree. The shadows on the walls slithered in excitement, like something chaotic had stirred.
"It's what happens when my shadow affinity hooks up with my flame affinity during a particularly chaotic night and refuses to tell anyone they're dating," he quipped. "Unstable. Extremely rare. Slightly forbidden in three Realms and banned in two or three dozen famed academies. But hey, I like it."
Astra blinked. "You're joking."
"I always sound like I'm joking," Vesper said with a grin. "That's how I get away with it."
He stepped forward, the flame still spinning lazily above his palm.
He stepped forward, the flame still hovering lazily in his hand. "In places like the Underworld—yeah, the one from The Tales of Atlas—or the Realm of Death? This stuff goes feral or so they say. But it starts twisting thoughts, warping space, whispering in dead tongues... which is super dramatic, obviously. I don't usually let it get that bad."
Astra didn't speak. He watched as the flame crackled in impossible colors, light and shadow braided so tightly they bled into something entirely other.
"I've got three variants," Vesper said, raising his hand. "One—Flame of Shadow. Mostly shadow. Cold. Sneaky. Leaves behind whispers. Very aesthetic."
The flame shifted, its hue changing.
"Two—Shadowflame. Equal parts. Messy. Corrupts minds, mana, matter. Great for parties."
Another shift. Deeper red. The shadows recoiled, then came closer.
"And then there's Flame of Chaos. That one I don't bring out unless I'm trying to make a statement. It's not smart. It's not subtle. It's barely flame at that point—it's just... pure, beautiful nonsense. Reality doesn't like it, so you won't see it as it also kinda hurts..."
Astra gave him a long look. "You're unhinged."
"Correct," Vesper said brightly. "But stylishly unhinged."
The shadows were now practically vibrating around him, eagerly swaying like a cult at their favorite sermon. The flame dimmed slightly, becoming something that was felt more than seen.
"Oh, and before you ask? Yeah. I've got three domain spells too." Vesper smirked. "One for each variant. Shadow, flame, chaos. The last one? It's called Shadowflame Domain. It doesn't care if you're Rank One. It doesn't even blink at Rank Twos. It just—gets in."
Astra opened his mouth, his curse flaring violently now, but Vesper held up a finger.
"Nope. Not telling you what it does. It'd break your curse, and more importantly—I plan on beating your ass in duels for the next decade. Gotta keep some tricks up my sleeve."
"Gods."
He laughed, a rich, amused sound that echoed strangely in the shadow-drenched room. "I'm still a sneaky bastard at heart. Fast, quiet, annoying. But even I need some flair. Otherwise, what's the point?"
He laughed, rich and unapologetic. "Now come on, Monster. Let's go find your domain."
The training room was cloaked in a deep, comfortable darkness, the shadows stretching and shifting around them. Astra leaned against the wall, trying to focus on Vesper's words, but the Blessing of Curiosity hummed incessantly in the back of his mind. It was a constant, nagging presence, pulling his attention in a thousand directions at once.
Vesper sat next to him, looking far more at ease in the dimly lit room explaining the idea of domains. The shadows seemed to respond to him, but there was something different in the way they obeyed. They were his — no question about it. Astra could feel the weight of that truth in the air, and it made him wonder about his own domains, his own power.
Star Magic, he thought, his mind drifting. His connection to the stars had always felt foreign, distant. The sensation of those pinpricks of light burning through his skin when he clashed with Lucien under Shadow Fall still lingered in his memory. His star magic — it felt like something more than just a force. It felt like something chosen for him.
But the Blessing of Curiosity tugged at his thoughts, forcing his mind to wander, tugging him away from his focus, away from the present conversation. He couldn't stop it.
What if my star magic is like my shadows? What if I could bring that power into my domain, too?
"Astra," Vesper's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp as a blade. "Focus."
Before he could even react, Astra felt the sting of Vesper's hand on the back of his head.
"Ow! Damn it, Vesper!" He winced, rubbing the sore spot.
"Focus." Vesper didn't even flinch, his tone like a gentle reprimand, yet still firm enough to make Astra pause.
Astra laughed, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, yeah. My curse won't let me." He exhaled a breath, trying to refocus. The shadows around them responded, a soft ripple through the air. His mind itched, but he let the shadows ground him. He knew it was the only way to get back on track.
"Curiosity's a blessing and a curse," Vesper said, looking at him with an almost amused glint in his eyes. "But right now, it's a curse and one you need to control more"
Astra smirked. "Tell me about it. It's like having a thousand thoughts crashing against my brain all at once. I can't stop them."
Vesper's expression softened just slightly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I get it. But if you want to get better at this, you need to block that out. Focus on the now, Astra you aren't going to get stronger if you're distracted."
Astra took a deep breath and focused. The shadows in the room reacted immediately, gathering at the edges of his vision. He let them move freely, the familiar pull of the shadows tingling through his senses. It was his comfort zone, where his will had power, but he couldn't deny the challenge of it.
Vesper leaned forward, watching him carefully. "Domains are more than just power. They're about your will. Your belief. It's not enough to just have strong magic; your domain will only be as strong as your belief in it."
Astra glanced at him, still feeling the shadows shift around him. "So, it's not just the spell, it's... how much I believe I can control it?"
"In a sense, it's more about manifesting your belief through sheer power and will." Vesper nodded. "Think of your Shadowfall. It's not just about manipulating shadows. It's about claiming them. About laying a piece of the world under your control. It's about making them fight the sun and feed off it... simply because you commanded them to. You believe you control it, and that belief feeds your power."
Astra's mind flickered again, his curiosity tugging. What about my star magic, though? Could that work the same way?
But before his thoughts wandered further, Vesper's hand smacked the back of his head. Astra winced.
"Focus. We're talking about domains here, Astra."
Astra rubbed the spot and gave a lopsided grin. "Alright, alright. You don't need to remind me twice."
Vesper sighed, but there was a trace of amusement in his eyes. "Your Shadowfall is one of your domains, but it's not the only one. A domain is a reflection of who you are, Astra. It's more than just a spell or a type of magic. It's your will given form. And just like your will, it can evolve. Grow. Twist. Strengthen."
Astra nodded slowly. The shadows around him coiled tighter, more responsive. They weren't just a tool anymore. They were a limb, a weapon, an echo of his emotions and belief. His Shadowfall wasn't just a spell. It was a claim. His claim.
"But what about a clash?" he asked, the thought slipping out. "How does a domain clash work?"
Vesper took a breath, then leaned back. "It's like a battle of reality. Two casters push their version of the world into the same space — and only one can remain. It's not just power. It's whose truth the world accepts."
Astra blinked. "So in my clash with Lucien," he said, "we were on equal ground, at least by the nature of Shadowfall. But still... it was shadow versus sunlight. I should've lost."
"In theory, yes," Vesper said. "That's the affinity advantage. Lucien's Sun of Dawn is pure solar fire — light itself. It devours darkness. You shouldn't have stood a chance , yet your shadows became ever so tenacious under that black star of yours..."
"But," he added, "it was Lucien. The prodigal prince of Dawn. He's trained since birth. He inherited that domain. You made yours on the spot. Mid-match. No one expected that."
Vesper smiled. "And yet, you created a black star — something of equal intensity to the Sun of Dawn. A domain made in defiance of his. That was a statement, Astra. A message. I'm sure our angels loved it."
Astra's eyes narrowed slightly, the memory sharp and vivid. The crowd. The heat. The black sun roaring above him.
"Domains can clash for all kinds of reasons," Vesper continued. "Sometimes one is simply stronger. But sometimes the caster's will outweighs their element. A fire domain can overpower a water one if the fire mage burns with enough conviction. Maybe his flames aren't just hot — maybe they refuse to die out. Maybe his domain says, 'I burn until the end of time.'"
"Or," he added, "a water mage might command tides so vast and cold they extinguish everything. Not because water beats fire, but because their belief — their story — was stronger."
Astra leaned in. "So affinity matters in a sense. But will wins."
"Exactly," Vesper said. "It's not rock-paper-scissors. It's who's more stubborn. Who forces the world to bend. That's why domain clashes are rare — and terrifying. Two beliefs fighting to become reality."
He paused, then added with a smirk, "But that's a problem for Rank Threes. Maybe Rank Twos. Rank Ones? Pfft. I doubt more than twenty in the entirety of all the realms even have a domain spell. It's that rare."
Astra looked down at his hands. The shadows curled softly around his wrists. "So it's not just about magic," he said, his voice low. "It's about belief. Conviction. If I command the shadows, they move — not because they want to. But because they must. How tyrannical. Yet... they've always seemed scared of me."
"Yeah." Vesper's voice softened. "They've always unnaturally obeyed you. It's... uncanny. Sad, in a way."
That last part annoyed Astra.
Vesper's lips quirked. "Now that you understand the concept, I need to tell you about the types of domains. They vary, depending on the caster. Offensive, defensive, enhancement, suppression, illusion, conceptual... some don't even fall into a category. They're just unique."
"For example," he said, holding up a finger, "the Sun of Dawn is a legendary domain spell. Some angels of House Dawn use it. It transcends ranks. It enhances the caster, blinds enemies, and scorches the land. You saw it. Felt it. Lucien, a Rank One, using power that belongs to a pinnacle tier Rank Two."
Astra nodded. He remembered it clearly. The ground melting. The light burning his eyes. The crowd screaming.
"Your Shadowfall," Vesper continued, "is ironically equal. At least the version you used. But it's linked to the Sun of Dawn. To use it, you need a solar source. That's why it's considered a leech. A parasite. Beautifully and stupidly ironic."
"Either way, domains like these aren't taught. Not at Rank One. To even be near a breakthrough, you need to check four boxes:"
Vesper raised fingers as he counted:
"One: Mastery of self — and that usually is the requirement to reach Rank Two."
"Two: High affinity. At least high-A. Preferably S."
"Three: Skill in freeforming. You need to shape magic naturally."
"And four: A will strong enough to burn through the doubt of the world. A will that doesn't ask for permission. It demands."
He exhaled. "Truly a different league."
A beat of silence passed.
Then Vesper rubbed his face and muttered, "We need to get you a full-fledged solo shadow domain. And test the limits of Shadowfall, too."
Astra nodded, his thoughts finally stilling. The constant hum of his curse eased, the weight of uncertainty fading as he turned inward. The shadows curled around his breath. Each inhale brought more of them. Not hostile. Not wild. Just his.
He could feel it now.
They listened.
Because he believed they would.
And if there was one thing Astra had always been good at...
It was believing just a little too much in himself.