The cold wind of the Ironwood Fringe howled like a wounded animal as it tore through the blackened branches of the Grey Weald. This was the hour of the predator, the time when the Abyssal Miasma was at its thickest, swirling around the roots of the trees in a slow, suffocating dance. Within the darkness of a limestone cavern three miles north of the Bastion of Mourning, ten men stood in absolute silence.
They were the First Ten, the foundation of Cian Valerius's secret legion. Only forty eight hours ago, they had been ordinary guards, men of Awakened rank who struggled to maintain their mana under the crushing pressure of the border life. Now, they stood with their backs straight and their eyes reflecting a faint, silver light. Their armor had been blackened with soot and oil to kill the reflection of the moons, and their cloaks were made of coarse, grey wool that blended perfectly with the mountain mist.
Cian Valerius stood before them. He was no longer the frail scholar carrying an inkwell. He wore a set of reinforced leather armor over a dark tunic, and a high quality steel shortsword was strapped to his waist. His two soul cores were spinning in perfect synchronicity, radiating a heat that kept the damp chill of the cavern at bay.
[Divine Talent: Sovereign Tutor is Active.]
[Targeting: The First Ten.]
[Establishing Battle-Link Protocol...]
Suddenly, the ten guards felt a familiar, electric hum at the base of their skulls. The blue threads of the Sovereign Link manifested, not as visible wires this time, but as a shared mental map. In their minds, they could suddenly "feel" the position of every other man in the room. They knew Kael's heart rate, Jaxon's breathing rhythm, and the exact orientation of Cian's gaze. They were no longer ten individuals; they were a single, ten headed organism.
"Tonight is not a hunt for beasts," Cian's voice echoed in their minds, clear and resonant. "Tonight, we strike the supply line of House Blackwood. They have been diverting the Hegemony's grain shipments, intended for our Bastion, into their own granaries. They think we are too weak to notice, and too broken to fight back. We are going to prove them wrong."
"My Lord," Kael whispered, his voice carrying through the link. "The Blackwood supply camp is guarded by twenty men. At least five of them are Awakened Level 6, and their captain is an Ascended warrior. If we are seen, it will be an act of war."
"We will not be seen, Kael," Cian replied. "And we will not leave anyone alive to testify. From this moment on, you are the ghosts of the Ironwood. Follow my movements. Strike when I strike. Fade when I fade."
The trek through the Grey Weald was a display of impossible coordination. Because they were linked through Cian's Akashic Scholar talent, the guards didn't need to look at the ground to avoid noisy debris. Cian "fed" them the optimal path, showing them the Source Code of the terrain. They moved through the dense underbrush at a full sprint, yet they made less noise than a passing breeze.
They reached the crest of a ridge overlooking a shallow valley. Below them, the Blackwood camp was a cluster of canvas tents arranged around a central fire. Five heavily laden wagons, filled with bags of grain and crates of salted meat, were parked near the edge of the clearing. Two sentries stood at the entrance, their polished black armor gleaming under the pale moonlight.
[Akashic Scholar: Analyzing Target Defenses.]
[Detection: Alarm Wards located at the perimeter. Frequency: 400Hz.]
[Vulnerability: A 2 second gap in the ward's resonance occurs every 15 seconds.]
"Wait for the pulse," Cian signaled through the link.
The ten guards crouched in the shadows, their bodies as still as stone. Jaxon, the youngest of the group, felt his adrenaline spiking, but the Sovereign Link immediately stabilized his heart rate, drawing the excess nervous energy into Cian's secondary core to be processed and recycled.
"Now. Move."
They blurred down the slope. The two sentries didn't even have time to gasp. Two of Cian's guards appeared behind them like shadows manifesting from the mist. With a synchronized movement, they drove their daggers into the gaps of the sentries' helmets. The bodies were caught before they could hit the ground, dragged silently into the darkness.
Cian stepped into the center of the camp. His eyes were glowing with a fierce, violet-silver light. He tapped into his Monster Class core, allowing a sliver of the "Monstrous" mana to leak into the shared link.
"The captain is in the central tent," Cian commanded. "Kael, take three men and secure the wagons. Jaxon, take the rest and clear the sleeping quarters. I will handle the Ascended."
The camp erupted in a silent, surgical slaughter. The Blackwood guards were experienced warriors, but they were used to fighting enemies they could see and hear. The Sentinels of the Void moved like phantoms. When a Blackwood guard tried to raise an alarm, a silver blade was already through his throat. When a mage tried to cast a flare spell, his mana was disrupted by a precise strike to his pressure points, a technique Cian had "downloaded" into his guards' minds.
Cian reached the central tent just as the captain, a broad shouldered man named Garreth, burst out. Garreth was an Ascended warrior of the second level. His mana flared, a dark orange aura that signaled his Master-rank talent. He swung a massive claymore, the blade whistling through the air with enough force to cleave a horse in two.
"Who are you?" Garreth roared, his eyes wide with fury. "Show yourselves, you cowards!"
Cian stepped out of the shadows. He didn't use a flashy skill. He simply stood there, his hands at his sides.
[Analysis: Garreth's Claymore Swing.]
[Logic: Over-extended follow-through. The recovery time is 0.8 seconds.]
Garreth swung again, a horizontal slash designed to decapitate Cian. Cian didn't duck. He stepped forward, inside the arc of the massive blade. He was so close that he could smell the stale ale on Garreth's breath.
Cian struck with his open palm, hitting the center of Garreth's chest.
CRACK.
It was the same move he had used on the Imperial Assassin. The Monster Class mana, compressed by the Akashic Scholar talent, acted like a physical explosion. Garreth's breastplate shattered, the steel fragments driven into his lungs. The Ascended captain was sent flying backward, his claymore spinning away into the mud.
He landed with a wet thud, coughing up dark blood. He looked up, his vision blurring, and saw a figure standing over him. Behind the figure, ten warriors were efficiently finishing the last of his men. They moved with a terrifying, hive mind precision, their blades flashing silver in the firelight.
"Who... what are you?" Garreth gasped, his life force fading.
Cian leaned down, his face a mask of cold, academic indifference. "We are the shadows you ignored, Captain. We are the interest on the debt your house owes to mine."
Cian didn't wait for a response. He signaled Kael, who stepped forward and ended the captain's life with a quick, mercy strike.
[Quest Complete: The First Raid.]
[Experience Gained: 2000 Units.]
[Rank Progression: Awakened (Level 5) $\rightarrow$ (Level 7).]
[Secondary Core Saturation: 25%.]
The raid had taken less than five minutes. The Blackwood camp was a graveyard. Not a single Valerius guard had been injured. They stood in the center of the clearing, their chests heaving, looking at the devastation they had caused. They looked at Cian with a gaze that was no longer just loyalty; it was religious awe.
"Burn the tents," Cian commanded. "Leave the wagons. Kael, you and your men will drive them through the secret mountain pass. By dawn, this grain must be in our hidden cellar. If anyone asks, the camp was raided by 'Abyssal Horrors'."
"But my Lord," Jaxon said, looking at the way the bodies were positioned. "We didn't fight like monsters. We fought like... like phantoms."
Cian looked at the grey mist that was once again swallowing the valley. "Then that is what we are. The Grey Phantoms of the Ironwood."
As the fires began to consume the Blackwood tents, Cian sensed a movement at the edge of the woods. A single Blackwood scout, who had been out on a perimeter patrol, was staring at the scene in absolute terror. The scout didn't stay to fight. He turned and fled into the darkness, his screams of "Phantoms! Grey Phantoms!" echoing through the trees.
Good, Cian thought. Let the legend grow. The more they fear the shadows, the less they will look at the scholar in the library.
They moved out, the five wagons disappearing into the secret mountain trails. Cian walked at the rear, his eyes scanning the horizon. He could feel the Teacher's Tax flowing into him, his mana density tightening and becoming even more potent.
By the time they reached the secret tunnel back to the Bastion, the sky was beginning to turn a pale, bruised purple. Cian slipped back into his chambers, changed into his scholar's robes, and sat down at his desk just as the first bell of the morning guard shift rang.
A knock came at his door.
"Young Master?" It was the Imperial Overseer, looking flustered and holding a fresh scroll. "Baron Vane is calling an emergency meeting in the Great Hall. It seems... it seems there has been a disaster. A Blackwood supply camp was wiped out last night by a mysterious force."
Cian stood up, rubbing his eyes as if he had just woken up. He picked up his inkwell with a steady hand.
"A disaster, Overseer? How tragic," Cian said, his voice soft and unassuming. "I hope it doesn't interrupt the Baron's audit. I still have so many reports to file."
As he walked toward the Great Hall, Cian felt the Sovereign's Link hum one last time before he suppressed it. The First Ten were back at their posts, looking like the same tired, mediocre guards the Baron had mocked the day before.
The audit was on its fourth day. The Baron was angry. The Blackwoods were terrified. And in the shadows of the Ironwood Fringe, the Grey Phantoms had claimed their first victory.