Chapter 31: Shadows Over theKingdom
The night sky above Astra Kingdom burned crimson.
From the highest tower of Astra Academy, the capital looked like a funeral pyre. Entire districts were swallowed by dragon-fire. Masked sorcerers in bone-white porcelain rode black-scaled wyrms, raining spears of violet lightning and spheres of molten glass onto the streets below. Screams rose and fell like broken music. The great bell of the academy tolled without pause, a heartbeat of pure panic.
Inside the main hall, first-years huddled in sobbing clusters. Prefects shouted themselves hoarse trying to herd them toward the dormitories. The air stank of smoke and fear.
In the underground Battle Operation Room, the Holy Ones stood around the floating holographic map. Liorion was absent—rumored to already be in the city—so Yuno, Number Two, took command. His black curly eyes reflected the red dots swarming the capital like ants on spilled honey.
"Report," he said, voice colder than the marble floor.
A senior knight saluted. "Enemy count exceeds three hundred airborne mages. All wearing the same masks. Dragons are not summoned—those are living beasts, tamed. They're using coordinated elemental formations we've never seen. West district is already lost. South wall breached. East gate holding, but barely."
Selene Noir, Number Three, slammed her fist on the table. "Who *are* these people? The Silver Kingdom has no dragon corps!"
"They're not Silver Kingdom," Riku Solheim said quietly, Number Six, tracing a finger over the map. "Look at the sigils on the masks. That's old script. Pre-Collapse dialect. Someone woke up a very old cult."
"Speculation later," Yuno cut in. "We move in four squads. I take the skies with the Seventh Aerial Division. Riku Solheim, you and Selene Noir hold the academy shield. Reinforce the crystal vault—triple the wards. No one gets underground, understood?"
They nodded.
"What about the students?" Axel Renstorm asked.
"Prefects lock them down. Anyone above fourth year who wants to fight reports to the courtyard for assignment. No exceptions. This isn't a drill."
Chaos was at the court room, everyone was scared, and running .
Naomi's voice was flat. "Trial's postponed. Again."
Deborah laughed, bitter. "All those nights preparing evidence, gone up in smoke. Literally."
Prisca burst into the group like a storm. "What are you all doing? There's a war outside! People are dying!"
Paul didn't even turn from the window. "And?"
"And we're going to help," Prisca snapped.
Felix adjusted his tie. "Respectfully, Prisca, that's a senior-level threat. We're first-years. We'd be liabilities."
Lola nodded quickly. "He's right. We'd just get in the way."
Prisca's eyes flashed. "So we sit here while the city burns? While children die in the streets? What kind of mages does that make us?"
Naomi shrugged. "Alive ones."
Peterson cracked his knuckles, muscles rippling under the faint glow of his enhancement magic. "I'm with Prisca."
Deborah grinned at him. "Of course you are, big guy."
Paul finally turned. His voice was calm, almost lazy. "Let me get this straight. You want us—six juniors with barely two years of formal training—to go fight dragon-riding cultists who just set the capital on fire in under an hour. Is that the plan?"
"Yes," Prisca said.
Paul exhaled through his nose. "You're insane."
"Maybe," she admitted. "But I'm not a coward."
Paul met her stare without blinking. "Cowardice and suicide are different things, Pris. One keeps you breathing. The other gets you a pretty grave."
Naomi stepped between them. "Paul has a point. We're not ready."
Prisca's fists trembled. "Then I'll go alone."
"I'll go with you," Naomi said instantly.
Peterson raised a hand. "Make that three."
Deborah sighed dramatically. "Four. Someone has to keep Peterson from dying heroically."
Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're all going to get expelled. Or killed. Probably both."
Lola bit her lip, then whispered, "Five."
Paul stared at them like they'd grown second heads. "fools."
"As a heart attack," Prisca said.
Peterson rubbed his temples. "If we do this—and I'm not saying we are—we do it smart. No charging in like heroes. We stick to the shadows, evacuate civilians, disrupt supply lines. Guerilla tactics. In and out. No dragon duels. Agreed?"
One by one, they nodded.
Paul sighed. "am out of here." he started walking away to his dorm
Prisca grinned. "Welcome to the team, captain."
The Royal Palace – War Council Chamber
King Matthew stood in full cerulean plate, the Lion of Astra worked in gold across his breast. His greatsword rested against the table like a sleeping predator.
Gaius, his advisor, was almost shouting. "You cannot ride out, Matthew! You are the king!"
"I was a knight before I was king," Matthew said quietly. "And my people are dying."
Jason, Captain of the Royal Guard, stepped forward. "Sire, Gaius is right. The Five Great Clans are already mobilized. Lord Solheim has taken the eastern flank with the Sun Legion. Lord Dante commands the skies above the capital. Noir's shadow operatives are hunting the enemy commanders as we speak. Sylestra's ice mages are holding the river. Veal's earthshapers are raising new walls even now. Let them fight."
Matthew's eyes never left the burning map. "And if they fail?"
Silence.
Then the Chief of the Royal Guard, Sir Alaric Voss, entered and knelt. His voice was gravel and smoke.
"Your Majesty. Detailed report.
The enemy calls themselves the Order of the Hollow Mask. Estimated strength: four hundred and twelve airborne mages, sixty-three war dragons, unknown number of ground operatives. They struck simultaneously at twenty-seven points—every major gate, every mana relay station, every noble estate with private teleport gates. Precision suggests years of planning and inside intelligence.
Their objective appears threefold:
1. Sow maximum chaos to prevent unified response.
2. Draw our elite forces into the open for assassination.
We are responding in four phases.
Phase One – Containment: Veal Clan is raising emergency walls along the inner ring. Sylestra Clan is freezing the river to block aquatic insertion. Completed in nine minutes.
Phase Two – Air Superiority: Dante Clan sky chariots and Solheim fire lances engaging dragon riders above the capital. Current kill ratio 3:1 in our favor, but they have reinforcements cycling in from the north.
Phase Three – Decapitation: Noir Clan death squads have already eliminated eleven enemy lieutenants. They report a command structure with no clear head—each cell operates independently once given orders
Matthew absorbed it all without expression. "And the Silver Kingdom?"
"Denies involvement," Voss said grimly. "Their border legions are mobilizing—toward us. Perfect timing for someone else's war."
Matthew picked up his helmet. "Then we end this before they arrive. I ride with the First Royal Knights. Jason, you have the palace."
Gaius looked like he wanted to chain the king to the throne.
Matthew smiled without humor. "If I die, tell my daughter I finally kept my promise to protect this kingdom with my own hands."
–––
The Burning Capital – tarsihi Town District
Lord Cassian Dante, Prisca's father, rode a horse made of living flame through streets turned to ovens.
Five masked mages cornered him atop a collapsed bell tower.
One hurled chains of obsidian. One summoned bone spears. One opened voids that swallowed light. One turned the air to acid. The fifth simply erased sound, so no one would hear Dante scream.
He laughed as wind exploded from his body in a spiral. The chains shattered. Bone spears were flung into the sky. The void collapsed under hurricane force. Acid became mist and rained harmlessly. The silence broke like glass.
In four seconds, five bodies hit the ground
Dante wiped blood from his cheek. "Next."
His lieutenants charged past on flaming steeds. Above, Dante sky-wheels—circular chariots of bronze and blue fire—rose into the night, hunting dragons.
Dante was suddenly alone.
He smiled into the dark. "You can come out. I know you've been watching."
The shadow detached from a wall and became a woman made of living darkness, eyes like fresh blood.
"So you felt me," she purred. "The Wind King lives up to his reputation."
"Are you their leader?" dante asked.
She laughed, low and velvet. "No. Just the one sent to kill you."
"Then you drew the short straw."
The shadow woman tilted her head. "Do you know why we chose tonight?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because your king is about to make a terrible mistake. And your precious guardians are about to be very, very busy."
Dante's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"Someone who was betrayed by this kingdom a long time ago. Someone who waited."
Then the street cracked open beneath him.
"Let the shadows rain!"
The world flipped. Dante fell into a void of perfect black. His flaming horse dissolved. Gravity vanished.
The woman appeared behind him, blades of darkness sprouting from her wrists.
He spun, wind shield flaring—just in time. The blades screeched off the barrier.
She attacked like smoke given teeth. Every strike came from a blind angle. Every parry sent Dante spinning in the void. Blood bloomed across his ribs, his thigh, his cheek.
She was winning.
And she was smiling.
"You feel it, don't you?" she whispered, voice everywhere and nowhere. "The moment hope dies."
Dante tasted copper. "Lady, I've been hoping to die dramatically since I was twelve. You'll have to do better."
He exhaled.
The void *screamed*.
A single tornado erupted from his body, fed by every ounce of mana he had left. The darkness shredded. The void cracked like glass. Light poured in.
They crashed back into the real world, the shadow woman tumbling across broken cobblestones.
Dante stood over her, bleeding, swaying, but alive.
"Tell your master," he said, voice raw, "the Wind King doesn't kneel."
She melted into the ground, laughing, already gone.
–––
High in the Blackiron Mountains
Argus Raventhorn stood beside a man in pure white robes and a porcelain mask without eye holes.
"Everything proceeds exactly as planned," his lieutenant corizo said.
Argus nodded. "The Silver Kingdom's invasion was the perfect distraction. While Astra looks north, we strike the heart."
Corizo turned. "Why this kingdom, Argus? You were one of the Amazing Five. You helped *build* Astra's golden age. Yet you burn it."
Argus's smile was thin and cold.
"Because they took everything from me. My research. My daughter's future. My name. They called me a monster for wanting to evolve magic beyond its childish limits. They feared what I could become."
He looked down at the burning kingdom, eyes reflecting the flames.
"They exiled me. Erased my contributions. Turned my own child against me. Deb still believes I abandoned her. They made sure of that."
corizo was quiet for a long moment.
"So this is revenge?"
"No," Argus said softly. "This is correction. The world will thank me when the crystal is mine and magic belongs to everyone—not just the blessed, not just the noble bloodlines. Equality through power. That was always the dream."
"And if thousands die?"
"Then history will call them necessary."
–––
Astra Academy – Crystal Vault, Sub-Level 9
The corridor was lit only by the faint blue glow of the crystal beyond the final door.
Lucia Raventhorn, Holy One Number Five, walked alone. His footsteps made no sound.
He raised a hand. Black sigils crawled across his palm like spiders.
"Almost home," he whispered.
A voice behind him. "I knew it was you."
Lucia paused.
Zeek, Prefect Number Ten, stepped from the shadows, sword drawn, eyes blazing with accusation.
"I've been watching you for months, Lucia. The way you disappear during crises. The forbidden texts in your quarters. The way the chaos always benefits you. Tonight proved it. You let them in. You're the breach."
Lucia turned slowly. He was smiling.
"Are you done?" he asked gently.
Zeek's grip tightened. "You betrayed everything we stand for. For what? Power? Revenge?"
Lucia tilted his head. "You talk too much."
He flicked two fingers.
A hand exploded through Zeek's chest from behind.
It held his still-beating heart.
Zeek looked down, stunned, blood pouring from his mouth.
The hand belonged to Elijah, Prefect Number Four. His face was blank, eyes empty.
"Elijah…?" Zeek rasped.
Elijah crushed the heart.
Zeek dropped.
Lucia stepped over the body without looking down.
"Open the door, Elijah," he said calmly. "It's time."
To be continued.