Chapter 4 : Shadows and Sparks
The first light of dawn spilled through the tall spires of the Grand Aether Academy and broke across the marble training grounds in bright, scattered beams. The air shimmered with faint magical energy, glowing softly around the students as they began their morning drills.
Echo stood on the edge of the grounds, his plain brown robe blending with the shadows. He never joined the group exercises — if he did, his secret would be exposed. He had no magic, and at this academy, that was an unforgivable flaw.
So, he watched instead. Every motion, every burst of energy, every pattern of light was information he could study. But today was different; today, he had his own plan-one that would push his body far past its limits.
The training routines of the academy were unyielding: students fought across floating platforms that would suddenly tilt or spin without warning. Some walls spewed fire, ice, and lightning-all things they had to avoid. The whole arena moved like a living puzzle, designed to test mind and magic together.
Soso moved through the chaos like water. Her sword arced with cinematic sweeps of blue light, each strike perfectly timed. She didn't just react-she anticipated. Others faltered as the ground shifted under their feet, but she stayed graceful, steady, untouchable.
From the shadows, Echo memorized everything: her rhythm, her footwork, her timing. Each movement was a piece of a code he planned to crack and make his own.
As soon as the drills finished and the crowd dispersed, Echo slipped away into the forgotten corners of the academy: narrow hallways and empty storage rooms where nobody came anymore. Here, he could train in secret.
He began to imitate Soso's movements.
Footwork: light pivots, sharp turns, perfect balance.
Defense: blocking and redirecting; imagining invisible attacks.
Strikes-punches, elbows, knees, kicks-flowing together as if it's all one movement.
He practiced time and again, perfecting each move until instinct carried him through.
To make things harder, he used the environment around him:
Leaping over uneven crates, landing in perfect stance.
Rolling through broken tiles without losing speed.
Swinging from rusted beams to copy attacks from above.
By using walls and columns to push off and strike harder.
Each move was a test of timing, balance, and strength-a dance between speed and control.
Throughout one lengthy sequence, Echo felt something new: a strange pulse rushed through his body, the first hint of Overdrive.
His muscles tensed, then moved faster than his thoughts.
His reflexes sharpened; instinctively, he dodged an imagined blow.
His stamina increased, and he felt no fatigue.
It was a powerful, short-lived rush, like the flames once the fire had caught for the first time. He didn't understand it yet, but he knew it meant something.
"This… this is more than training. It's a sign," he whispered.
He struck and struck again, till his knuckles began to ache, flipped and rolled until the air seemed to sear his lungs. The empty chamber thundered with the sound of fists on stone and blades cleaving air.
Still catching his breath, he noticed something on the walls that caught his eye: faint carvings that seemed to glow as he neared.
Or jagged, ancient runes cut deep into stone.
A thin, cold energy which whispers from them.
A dark intent that felt alive.
He frowned. These weren't ordinary wards. They bear the mark of the Abyssal Sect-a name that sent unease crawling through his chest.
"Not now," he muttered. "They'll matter later."
He had turned away; his focus was strength, not mysteries or politics. A shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. The world beyond the academy was darker than he'd imagined.
Echo picked up two short daggers and began a new set of drills:
Fighting several imaginary opponents, rolling, striking, disarming.
Using the walls for leverage, flipping away from unseen attacks.
Aiming to make precise strikes at vital points, only he could envision.
Then it happened again - the surge. Overdrive. Stronger this time.
His speed jumped beyond human limits.
His movements hit harder, cleaner.
His eyes seemed to predict the movement before it happened.
He finally collapsed, gasping for air. His body shook, but he smiled through the exhaustion. Without the use of magic, he was changing — evolving.
By sunset, the sky was burning orange over the academy. Echo stood at the edge of a broken courtyard, his dagger flashing in the dying light. Sweat rolled down his face, but his eyes were alive with focus.
Across the field, he saw Soso walking alone, in her robe shining faintly, her sword strapped across her back. She looked radiant even from far away-calm and unbothered, like the world bent gently around her.
He couldn't look away.
The soft colour on her cheeks from training.
The swaying of her garment in the wind.
The quiet thoughtfulness in her gaze.
His heart clenched-admiration, longing, and determination all at once.
"I'll protect you," he whispered. "I'll become stronger than anyone here. Magic won't matter. I'll prove it."
Then he moved again, faster and fiercer than before.
Flips, vaults, rolls, and leaps.
Blows that landed on invisible enemies.
Knives being thrown and caught mid-movement.
Every motion clean, sharp, alive.
He was fighting the air-but it was as if he were fighting destiny itself.
Night descended, bathing the courtyard in a silver glow. The glowing wards etched faint lines across the marble; those strange Abyssal symbols shone in the corners. Echo noticed them but didn't linger.
He sat on a broken column and breathed slowly, staring at the stars. Moonlight touched his face, and in his eyes burned quiet resolve.
"No magic. No spells. Just me," he whispered. "And someday. that will be enough." The first real sparks of his path had been lit. The shadows around him no longer felt like a cage but a place where something powerful was taking shape-a force that would one day shake the academy, the Abyssal Sect, and the world beyond.