Chapter 46: The Shadow in the Night
The hours of the night. A solitary figure glided through those veiled planes with movements as fluid and lethal as a primordial hunting beast stalking its prey across forgotten battlefields. No footfall disturbed the silence. No ripple of wind betrayed its passage. Yet the very air around it seethed, violent, raw, and thick with the coppery reek of fresh blood mingled with an ancient, festering malice that had simmered since the dawn of the Demon Gods era.
This was no ordinary intruder. Its presence carried the weight of epochs, a crushing aura that made the stars above seem to dim in wary acknowledgment. Suddenly, the figure's form shimmered like smoke caught in an unseen gale.
From its core, four smaller silhouettes peeled away, each one detaching with eerie precision, as though the original had split its very essence into living fragments of shadow given solid form.
These four short figures moved with doubled raw tenacity and silent deadliness. Each carried a fragment of the progenitor's terrifying power, enough to sow chaos, enough to kill without mercy. They scattered in four cardinal directions across the sprawling grounds of the four great Academies, vanishing into the darkness like whispers of impending doom.
One of them, cloaked in flowing black robes that seemed woven from midnight itself, drifted toward the heart of the outer academy of demon blade. Though its body was small and deceptively child-like in stature, everything about it screamed primordial danger.
Its limbs held an unnatural, statue-like stillness, broken only by the faintest predatory glint in its eyes that glowed with abyssal hunger. An oppressive aura radiated from it, so heavy that the surrounding night air seemed to shrink away in fear, the very shadows bending and twisting as if reluctant to touch such a being.
"I wonder what obsession has gripped the Demon God's mind," the shadow-child muttered, its voice thin and dripping with undisguised disgust, like venom sliding off a blade. "All this trouble… for this insignificant little rats."
Deep within the secluded private chambers of the vice-principal, Dabara sat alone in contemplative silence. Soft azure light emanated from a floating report crystal hovering before him, its surface alive with shimmering runes that detailed the latest rankings and breakthroughs within the academy.
A faint smile touched his lips. "I wasn't wrong," he murmured, voice laced with quiet amazement. "I truly picked out rare gems this time. Those twins… they have already seized the 4th seat in the outer academy rankings. Their progress is nothing short of monstrous."
For a brief moment, satisfaction bloomed in his chest like a rare spiritual herb unfurling under moonlight. The twins' rapid rise brought him genuine pride, they were sharp blades he had personally honed and placed within the academy's cutthroat hierarchy. Yet the feeling faded as swiftly as morning mist. His thoughts inevitably drifted toward another youth: Liam, the blind boy currently entombed within the punishment grounds.
That forbidden realm was a place even the vice-principals understood only in fragments, a white void of torment where time and pain intertwined in ways that defied ordinary laws of mana and aura. Dabara's brow furrowed. What secrets did that blind swordsman hide? What sins had he committed in his past life to have such bad karma?
Suddenly, without warning, Dabara's eyes widened like twin bursts of ignited mana flames. A visceral wave of foreboding slammed into his chest, cold and razor-sharp, as though an ancient curse had brushed against his soul. His instincts, sharpened through decades of navigating the academy's deadly politics and hidden threats, screamed danger.
He did not hesitate.
With a surge of powerful aura, Dabara exploded outward. The reinforced window of his chambers shattered in a brilliant cascade of glass shards and roaring energy. He launched himself into the ink-black sky, robes whipping violently as he ascended. Hovering high above the academy grounds, he scanned the night, and froze.
Before him stretched a thick, coiling trail of ominous black smoke, intertwined with sinister strands of purple energy that pulsed like veins of corrupted mana. It hung in the air like a living curse, writhing with malevolent intent, as though something ancient and hungry had torn a wound between realms and stepped through.
Dabara's expression hardened into grim resolve. "What manner of abomination dares intrude upon Devil Blade Academy?"
Meanwhile, on the wide, lantern-lit stone path of the outer academy grounds leading toward the heavily guarded inner students' court, Garuda and Bobaros walked side by side beneath a steel-gray sky heavy with unspoken tension.
The night air carried the distant sounds of training grounds, clashing swords, surging mana bursts, and the occasional roar of a sparring match, but here, in this quieter stretch, only their footsteps echoed softly.
"Brother," Garuda began, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of impatience, "when exactly will they release that blind one from the punishment grounds? It's been long enough."
"I heard whispers he is due to emerge within the next few hours," Bobaros replied calmly, his tone measured and steady as always, like still water hiding depths.
The twins had wasted no time forging deep, often ruthless connections with the various gangs, factions, and influential disciples scattered throughout Devil Blade Academy. Through calculated challenges, strategic alliances, and merciless displays of power, they had amassed a web of informants.
They now possessed intricate, near-complete knowledge of the power struggles simmering behind both the outer and inner gates. Though they had yet to set foot beyond the inner threshold, their explosive rise through the rankings and their willingness to crush anyone who stood in their path had already earned them a notorious, fear-laden reputation. Many spoke their names in hushed tones, wary of drawing the fiery twins' attention.
They had taken only a few more steps when the atmosphere shifted dramatically.
A heavy, oppressive presence descended upon them like an invisible divine mountain crashing down from the heavens. The air thickened, mana currents growing sluggish and rebellious. It felt as though the night itself had grown teeth and turned its gaze upon them.
Garuda's battle instincts ignited instantly. He spun on his heel, seizing his brother's arm with iron grip. "Where do you think you're going? Have I granted you permission to leave?"
A light, child-like giggle floated through the darkness, innocent in pitch, yet carrying an undertone so ancient and disturbing that it sent chills racing down the spines of everyone nearby.
Students and outer disciples who had been strolling or cultivating in the vicinity suddenly turned toward the twins' position. Shock and confusion painted their faces. None had sensed the intruder's arrival. The figure had simply… appeared, as though the shadows had birthed it whole.
"Nullification Barrier!!" Bobaros roared the instant Garuda grabbed him. He thrust his palm forward in a blur of motion, channeling a surge of defensive aura to meet the approaching hand of the shadow-figure.
Their palms connected with a sharp, wet splash of clashing energies. For a fraction of a second, it seemed like a simple collision of force.
Then Bobaros' expression twisted into pure agony. The pain was not ordinary, it sank far deeper than flesh and bone, like icy shadow-talons clawing directly at the core of his soul, disrupting the natural flow of his aura points and mana channels.
Garuda felt the violent fluctuation ripple through their twin bond. Without a moment's delay, he slammed his fist into the stone path below. "Fire Jet!"
A violent explosion of concentrated flames erupted from his feet and striking arm, superheated mana igniting in a roaring pillar of deep crimson . The blast propelled both brothers skyward like a living rocket, leaving blazing trails of fire that lit up the night like falling comets. The force of their ascent cracked the ground beneath them, sending shockwaves rippling outward.
"Ohhh… this is interesting," the small black-robed figure murmured with almost pure, child-like amusement. It tilted its head slowly, watching their fiery escape with cold fascination gleaming in its ancient eyes. It made no immediate move to pursue, as though savoring the unfolding spectacle.
Instead, it giggled again, the sound innocent on the surface, yet deeply disturbing, warping the surrounding air like reality itself was bending to accommodate its unnatural existence. Subtle distortions rippled outward, as if the very laws of mana and space hesitated in its presence.
This particular fragment, the one now facing the fleeing twins, seemed especially entertained. Its wide, innocent smile never wavered, yet those cold, ancient eyes held the depth of blood-soaked eras long forgotten by mortal-kind.
High above on a sturdy rooftop, Garuda and Bobaros landed heavily, chests heaving as they gulped down air.
The flames wreathing Garuda gradually dimmed and faded, leaving faint embers dancing along his arms. He scanned the courtyard far below, eyes narrowed into lethal slits, every muscle coiled like a drawn bow.
"Who the hell is that?" Garuda growled, voice low and dangerous, laced with burning fury.
Bobaros remained silent for a long moment, but his right hand still trembled faintly from the earlier clash. The pain lingered like a lingering poison, unnatural, invasive, a shadow that had brushed against the deepest layers of his spirit, threatening to corrupt the very foundation of his cultivation.
Below them, in the open courtyard, the child-like figure stood motionless, staring upward with that same wide, innocent smile. It did not reach the freezing, primordial coldness lurking in its eyes, an intelligence far older than the academy, older perhaps than the current age itself.
The night had suddenly become far more perilous than anyone within Devil Blade Academy could possibly have anticipated. Invisible currents of fate were shifting, ancient powers awakening, and the delicate balance of power within these hallowed grounds teetered on the edge of collapse.
Deep within the blinding white room of the punishment grounds, Liam Heart Stood against Zoran, in a battle so raw And filled with intent, the intent to kill.