The village of Oakhaven was alive with celebration. Torches lined the narrow streets, casting long, dancing shadows against the ancient stone walls. The air was thick with the savory scent of roasted meat and the sweet, intoxicating aroma of jasmine wine. Tonight was the "Night of the Blessed"—a sacred festival for the youths who had returned from the Spirit Grove with their newfound stones of power.
In the center of the Great Plaza, a wooden stage had been erected. Standing tall and bathed in the flickering golden glow of the torches was Kael. His hand pulsed with a vibrant, rhythmic yellow light, radiating a sense of stability and strength. He had claimed a 'Topaz Earth Stone', a high Rank 4. In a small settlement like Oakhaven, he was no longer just a boy; he was a hero in the making.
"To Kael!" Marcus shouted, his voice booming as he raised a large wooden tankard. His own hand flickered with the erratic orange glow of a Rank 3 fire stone. "The man who will lead Oakhaven to glory!"
"It's a shame about Ashura," Zen whispered, leaning against a stone pillar with a cruel, satisfied smirk. "Who knew our 'star prodigy' was nothing but an empty shell? I heard he couldn't even handle the mana-pressure at the forest's edge. He's probably still out there, shivering in the mud like the pathetic failure he is."
Kael laughed, a cold sound devoid of any warmth or remorse. "Forget him. A Hollow is just a slave with a name. By tomorrow, Ashura will be scrubbing the floors of my father's manor. That is, if he even has the dignity to show his face again."
But as the laughter reached its peak, a sudden, unnatural chill swept through the plaza. It wasn't the chill of a night breeze; it was the icy breath of a tomb.
The warm orange glow of the torches didn't just flicker—it turned a sickly, pale white, then... it died. Every single torch, every lantern, and every fire pit in the village was extinguished at once.
Total, suffocating darkness swallowed Oakhaven.
"What's happening?" an elder shouted, his voice cracking with sudden panic. "Guards! Relight the fires!"
Kael tried to summon the light from his Topaz stone, but the yellow glow was instantly snuffed out by an invisible, crushing pressure. It felt as if the very air had turned into lead. A cold wind, smelling of ancient dust and ozone, swept through the trembling crowd.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of footsteps on the stone pavement echoed in the absolute silence. It wasn't the sound of leather boots, but something harder, sharper—like obsidian striking marble.
"Kael..." a voice whispered.
It didn't come from any one direction. It seemed to bleed out of the shadows themselves, a layered harmony of a thousand dark whispers speaking in perfect, terrifying unison.
"You were talking about... a Hollow?"
From the deepest shadow near the Great Hall, a figure emerged. The villagers gasped, some falling to their knees in instinctive terror. It was Ashura, but he was unrecognizable. His white tunic was shredded, stained by ink-like veins that crawled up his neck and across his jawline. His hair had grown into a wild mane of shadows, and his eyes... there was no white left. Only two pits of endless, swirling abyssal black.
"Ashura?" Kael stammered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "How... how are you standing? You missed the window! The Rite is over! You have no stone!"
Ashura stepped into a lone shaft of moonlight. Around his feet, the shadows of the villagers began to detach themselves from the ground, writhing and hissing like black serpents.
"I didn't need your forest, Kael," Ashura said, his voice dropping to a low, vibratory growl that made the nearby windows rattle. "The forest is for the weak who need permission to be strong. I... I have become the source."
Marcus, fueled by liquid courage and the arrogance of his Rank 3 fire stone, stepped forward. "I don't know what kind of dark trick you're playing, Ashura, but a Hollow stays a Hollow! Get back to the dirt where you belong!"
Marcus lunged, his right fist wreathed in Rank 3 flames. He aimed straight for Ashura's face, intending to burn away that terrifying expression once and for all.
Ashura didn't move. He didn't even raise his hand.
The moment Marcus's fire touched Ashura's chest, the black veins on Ashura's skin flared with a dull violet light. The fire wasn't extinguished—it was devoured. The flames were sucked into Ashura's skin as if his body were a bottomless void.
"Is that all?" Ashura whispered.
He reached out with lightning speed and gripped Marcus's throat. A spark of pure black lightning jumped between them. Marcus's eyes rolled back, turning a lifeless, stony gray. The Spirit Stone embedded in his hand began to crack, its orange light being drained into Ashura's palm until it shattered into useless dust.
Ashura tossed Marcus aside like a piece of broken furniture. The boy who was "blessed" only minutes ago was now a true Hollow—powerless, soul-drained, and broken.
"One down," Ashura smiled, showing teeth that looked like shards of obsidian. He turned his abyssal gaze toward Kael and Zen, who were now trembling so hard they could barely remain standing.
"Now... who else wants to celebrate?"