The wilderness stretched endless and black beneath the dying moon.
A cold wind drifted between skeletal trees, carrying with it the low rumble of something ancient breathing below the earth.
A month had passed.
Thirty nights of silence and blood, of shattered bones and shallow breaths.
And still, the boy endured.
Bare feet pressed against cold soil, his hair—darker than the abyss—fluttering against a skin pale enough to shame moonlight. His eyes, deep and bottomless, stared through the mist without blinking. They saw everything yet nothing.
A blur of scales flashed before him.
The ground cracked as Keros's massive tail descended with enough force to tear through stone.
Valen moved—barely. The wind of the strike ripped past his cheek, the shockwave knocking him off balance. His small body hit the ground, rolling across shattered roots and loose gravel. Pain rang through his ribs, yet his gaze never wavered.
He pushed himself up. Slowly. Mechanically.
Keros watched him, three heads lowered, the glow of their eyes carving through the darkness. The serpent's tone came low, almost patient.
"Your perception sharpens, but your body is still too slow."
Valen didn't answer. He stepped forward again, dust swirling at his feet.
For an instant, Keros could almost see it—that look.
The faintest shadow of emotion flickering across that calm, detached face.
Frustration.
Directed not at him, but inward.
The serpent knew that feeling well.
He struck again.
Another tail swept toward Valen.
The boy twisted aside, barely dodging. Another strike followed, faster—he avoided it by a hair's breadth. Then another. His movements blurred into desperation, each dodge cutting closer and closer until—
Crack.
The tail brushed his chest, sending him crashing through a fallen trunk. The world rang, a hollow echo followed by stillness.
Valen lay in the dirt, panting quietly. His knuckles were pale where his hands clenched. The mask he wore—emotionless, calm—fractured for the first time.
His bottomless eyes dimmed, shadows crawling behind them.
He hated it.
The weakness.
The helplessness.
The distance between what he could see and what he could do.
He had survived the black wilderness, had walked through its deathly silence, but right now… he couldn't even touch the serpent's scales.
"Again," he said quietly, his voice cold and strained.
But Keros didn't move. The serpent's heads lowered, a quiet rumble vibrating through his throat.
"That's enough."
Valen's jaw tightened. The darkness beneath his skin rippled faintly, responding to his frustration. His breathing deepened. And then—something shifted.
The air changed.
The forest stilled.
The shadows near his feet trembled, drawn toward him as if gravity itself bowed.
Keros froze, ancient instincts igniting in alarm.
He knew that resonance.
That impossible hum.
The same echo that had shaken the lower domain weeks ago—the evolved darkness that should not exist.
"Boy…," the serpent hissed softly, all three heads tense. "Stop."
But Valen's mind was too clouded to hear him.
He rose to his feet slowly, the faint tremor in his hand stilling as a pulse of black fire flickered across his palm.
It wasn't the raw chaotic storm it had once been—it was smaller now, refined, precise. But that made it worse.
The flame didn't burn; it consumed. It devoured light, air, sound—everything around it bending, warping toward the black center.
Valen stared at it blankly, head tilted slightly, as if studying something alive.
This wasn't Keros' darkness anymore. This was something else.
Something born from it.
Something that belonged to him.
Keros's scales rippled, his ancient blood screaming warnings he couldn't ignore.
The serpent reared back, voice vibrating through the clearing.
"Valen—"
Too late.
The boy's lips parted. His tone was quiet, detached, yet the sound carried the weight of something ancient and unrestrained.
"Voidflame Dominion."
The forest died.
A shockwave erupted—not loud, not fiery, but suffocatingly silent.
Every shadow turned liquid, sweeping outward in a storm of consuming black. The trees within reach disintegrated into ash before even catching flame. The ground fractured, the air twisting into invisible spirals.
Keros' instincts took over.
He vanished in a burst of mist just as the explosion expanded—
—and reappeared a mile away, three heads snapping toward the devastation.
What remained of the clearing was gone.
Nothing but glassed stone and smoldering air.
The serpent's chest heaved, eyes wide.
That wasn't the small flame he had taught the boy to control.
That was the evolved power—sealed, restrained—and yet still strong enough to scar the land.
"Impossible…" he murmured. "That was only a fragment… and he—"
A flicker caught his gaze.
At the center of the ruin, the boy stood still. The shadows curled harmlessly around him, as if recognizing him as their master.
Valen lowered his hand slowly, the faint trail of black fire fading into his skin.
He blinked once.
Expressionless.
Then sighed softly, the faintest trace of breath escaping his lips.
"Too much."
He turned his palm upward again, examining it like a puzzle. The voidflame was gone, but its echo lingered—a hum that refused to fade.
Far away, Keros' tails coiled and uncoiled nervously. He had lived long enough to see mountains bleed and gods fall, but this… this boy…
He had never felt a power so still yet so final.
And still, when the boy looked up at him, something strange happened.
Valen's eyes met his—cold, quiet, detached—but his tone, for once, carried something else. A faint, mocking calm.
"You're holding back," he said.
For a heartbeat, all three of Keros' heads froze.
Then—
A rumble echoed through the forest, deep and incredulous. It took Valen a moment to realize the serpent was laughing.
"Brat," one head muttered.
"You almost destroyed a quarter of the forest," said another.
"And yet you think I'm holding back?"
Valen's gaze didn't change. But there was a flicker—small, quiet—almost like amusement.
The serpent exhaled, smoke curling around his heads. His tone softened, barely noticeable.
"You're not as emotionless as you think."
Valen didn't respond. He simply turned, brushing the dust from his torn clothes. The faint hum of the voidflame whispered beneath his skin, restless.
Keros watched him go, the faintest curl of pride in his ancient chest.
Soft. That was what the boy had called him. And maybe… he was right.
As the moon sank low, the wilderness fell quiet again, save for the faint echo of black fire still devouring the edges of reality.
And at its center, Valen walked through the ruins, expression unreadable—yet his eyes burned faintly with a darkness that was no longer asleep.
---
[System Notice: Power stability detected.]
[Voidflame Dominion registered as Unique Evolution Skill.]
[Training protocols unlocked.]
The screen vanished as quickly
as it appeared.
Valen looked up once more at the silent serpent across the wasteland—
—and for the first time in weeks, a faint, human smirk touched his lips.