This was the last day before the new cadets would have to go on their first ascent.
Recently, Kalon had been through a lot; he had the information regarding spearmanship forced into his mind and trained to slowly master it. While he couldn't be called a master just yet, he was fairly proficient with it. He learned how to improvise and cook with all kinds of resources and monster meat. He also received a full and detailed lesson on Ascenders and their powers. Most kids his age would've already learned about such things, as it was in the mundane school curriculum. However, Kalon had never attended school, so he lacked what others might even consider "basic education."
From Dr. Obel, Kalon had learnt about Ascenders and their abilities. He learnt that each Ascender possessed a [Title]; it was related to what domain their abilities were from. Kalon's [Shadow Spawn] was such. Other than titles, every Ascender gained at least one fundamental ability from the moment they awakened. It would continue to grow and evolve along with them, even as they acquired more abilities. These were intricately linked to their [Title] and were called [Gifts].
After learning this, Kalon had checked his Gift and learned it was the [Born of Shadows], displayed next to his [Title]. The Gift's description said the shadows would recognise him as one of their own and treat him with compassion. However, Kalon already knew what sort of development awaited him if he lived long enough to get stronger: the ability to control all shadows at will. Sazzy already had a similar ability, albeit on a much smaller, even inconsequential, level. To put it simply, it currently has no practical use.
Kalon also learned about the worlds, realms, and mysteries.
They lived in the Realm of Knowledge, created by the God of Wisdom and beholden to the God of War. Similar to theirs, all worlds existed simultaneously without interacting with one another. Dr. Obel had described it using a tower analogy, with each floor existing at a universal scale. The floors couldn't influence one another; however, the residents could use the stairs to travel between floors. While this was just his personal interpretation, Kalon felt this was the closest to the truth.
Outside of these floors and worlds were realms that existed in all of them, yet in none of them. They were independent planes of existence where even most gods had no authority. They could affect and influence all worlds but could not be influenced by any. Most of these realms were filled with mysteries and were called the Wonders of Existence by the Primordials.
Among them, the one humans were most familiar with was obviously the Shadow Realm, created and ruled by Death, the [Shadow God], or as different legends and myths may call it: Hell, Tartarus, and Helheim. It was the underworld. The other Wonders of Existence, where even the gods held no sway, were the Realm of Fate (also called the Sea of Fate or Sea of Destiny), the River of Time, the Spirit Realm, and the Void.
Even though humans had some truly interesting ideas about the underworld, they were just vague descriptions drawn from different mythologies. Considering the domains the Shadow God controlled, it obviously wasn't a land filled with scorching red flames. In fact, Kalon had reason to believe he had actually been to the Shadow Realm before, during his enlightening. He even felt an attraction, a sense of belonging and yearning toward it.
Now, Kalon and the other cadets were completely set to enter the tower. They had all been permitted to leave the academy grounds to say farewell to their family and friends. There was always a possibility that they wouldn't return.
Kalon was currently at the edge of the large city, at the entrance to the slums. However, he wasn't here to say goodbye to his family. His parents were already dead, and his siblings, if alive, probably didn't even remember he existed. He was here for something far more satisfying than a "stupid farewell." He was here for revenge.
Kalon had always been a strong kid, as well as a good fighter. He was good at petty tricks and had an uncanny knack for theft and pranks. Even the other kids in the outskirts wouldn't face him on their own, so they started to gang up on him. They would beat him up and take his food and money. No one, not even the adults, ever batted an eye. Even if he was murdered, it wouldn't matter. Even if every human in the slums were wiped out, the government or police wouldn't care. They would easily sweep the issue under the rug and continue going about their lives like the deaths of hundreds meant nothing to them.
So there was an unspoken rule in the slums, or rather a tacit agreement between the police and the slum dwellers: "Do as you will, but do it secretly." They didn't mind, as long as it brought them no trouble.
Now, Kalon was on his way to send the bastards who had almost killed him down to the Shadow Realm. Rage surged from the depths of his soul whenever he recalled what had transpired that day. He kept telling himself that he wouldn't be able to suppress his emotions in the future if he left such loose ends, but even he knew that excuse sounded like crap. He simply wanted to kill them. He wanted to hear them scream, to hear them beg him to stop the way he had begged them, and then feel the sense of fulfilment that would drown him when he was done.
Kalon would never call himself a saint or a hero, but he knew that he definitely wasn't a villain. All his life, he had lived by a simple principle: "Treat others how they treat me." So he wasn't here to clean up the slums or punish these kids for whatever crimes they committed. After all, no matter what they did, it couldn't even compare to his own crimes. He simply was that petty. He always held a grudge, and as long as he wasn't dead, he would pay it back.
Kalon pushed all unnecessary thoughts to the back of his mind as he walked quietly toward a dark alley. He slowly pulled out an obsidian dagger from a sheath hidden in his trousers and ran into the alley.
For a while, the area reverberated with the screams of many teenagers, followed by continuous yells filled with rage and malice, then cries for mercy. As the sun set, darkness began to drown the world, and rain trickled down from the sky. Kalon let out a sigh.
Kalon was still sitting on the back of a corpse, his hair and clothes completely soaked with rain and sweat. Around him, many more bodies lay lifeless as the rain washed the blood away. Suddenly, Kalon felt a shiver in the deepest part of his soul. It felt like a gaze had been directed at the very core of his being.
"I really hope it's not a side effect of feeling emotions, hmmm… it shouldn't be. Anger is something every being feels anyway."
He had finally killed the bastards who haunted his nightmares for weeks. He wasn't gleeful; however, he felt free. He didn't mind dying right now. He believed he wouldn't even feel indignation if someone plunged a blade directly into his heart. He wouldn't mind if he never returned. With this act, he felt as though he had severed all ties with his home.
Sazzy shivered within the depths of Kalon's soul. He could feel everything Kalon felt. It wasn't freedom or satisfaction, but simply emptiness.
***
In a country somewhere in Western Europe, in a bustling city, atop a building so tall it could be called a behemoth, a lone figure sat perched, almost invisible from afar.
Suddenly, the door behind him slammed open, and a man with completely silver hair, dressed in what seemed like a priest's robes, walked through. He seemed like he was about to yell something, but suddenly stopped in his tracks and muttered something inaudible beneath his breath as he quietly observed the figure in front of him.
Sitting quietly at the edge of the building was a man with deep olive skin. He had pure black hair braided into two cornrows that reached his shoulders; the sides were faded, and he had a short, trimmed beard. The air seemed to still around him.
His suit was midnight black, cut with precision, each line sharp enough to draw shadows along his frame. The fabric caught the light in subtle glimmers, like smoke twisting in moonlight, hinting at something both luxurious and forbidden. His crisp white shirt contrasted like fresh snow against the darkness, the cuffs peeking just enough to reveal silver cufflinks that gleamed faintly with an otherworldly chill. No tie constrained him; instead, the open collar gave him an ease that felt dangerously effortless. The suit moved as though alive, fluid around his shoulders, as if the threads themselves obeyed a silent command. His most eye-catching feature, however, was the black blindfold that completely hid the man's eyes.
The figure remained still, showing no signs of life for several minutes. After a while, he raised his head and turned to look at the man in priestly robes behind him.
Standing up, the unknown man slowly walked away from the edge with both hands in his pockets and said in a gentle voice filled with compassion and pity, "Father, tell the others that I will now be departing. I have other matters to attend to."
The priest nodded. He paused, carefully weighing his words. After some consideration, he hesitantly asked, "D–did you see something, my lord?"
The unknown man smirked as he said, "The fate of your world has shifted a bit. The rain has washed away his past, and now he will be born anew tomorrow."
After speaking, the man took a step forward and suddenly vanished. It was as if he had stepped into a completely different world.
Staring at the spot where the figure had vanished, the priest's eyes shone with unconcealed reverence. He looked up at the clear sky, now free of rain.
Unable to comprehend what the man had said about his vision, he simply ignored it. After all, who was he to comprehend the intricate tapestry of fate? He shut his eyes and drew a snake symbolising infinity across his chest.
"Praise the Lord of Fate."