Chapter One
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The persistent alarm echoed through the dimly lit room, growing louder with each passing second. But the man it was meant to wake—Agent Conner Steele—remained fast asleep, face buried in his pillow, utterly undisturbed.
Seconds passed.
Then—BANG!
A thunderous crash shattered the silence, followed by the unmistakable sound of something breaking. Conner bolted upright, adrenaline slamming through his veins. His hand shot into the shadows beside his bed, pulling out a sleek obsidian firearm. The weapon glowed faintly as he fired a shadowy blast toward the source of the noise—the door.
But the figure in the doorway didn't flinch.
With a single graceful motion, the intruder raised a hand and caught the blast mid-air, crushing it into wisps of smoke between her fingers. A woman's voice followed—cool, sharp, and unnervingly calm.
"What do you think you're doing, Agent Steele?" she asked. "Sleeping on duty?"
Conner paled instantly.
"N-No! Of course not!" he stammered, sitting bolt upright, his smile forced and far too wide. "I was just… meditating! Deep reflection and all that. Sleep? Me? Never."
He chuckled nervously, desperately selling the lie. On anyone else, his boyish charm and radiant grin might've worked—but not on her.
The woman stepped forward, her expression unreadable, violet eyes cold as ice. She said nothing as she pulled a handheld mirror from her coat and held it in front of his face.
Conner's grin faltered as he saw the damage—hair tousled, shirt wrinkled, and worst of all: deep pillow lines etched across his cheek.
His face went ghostly pale.
"You know what this means," the woman said flatly.
Conner gave a dry laugh and mumbled, "Hell yeah… I'm screwed."
_ _ _ _
Minutes later, Conner followed the woman through a vast obsidian training compound, its polished floors reflecting their black uniforms. Around them, other agents in dark attire greeted Conner with nods and smirks. To his escort, however, they offered respectful bows. No surprise there—she wasn't just any agent.
She was Charlotte the Wrath.
Fourth Rank Shadow Agent. A living legend. The one who'd single-handedly taken down hundreds across multiple regions.
Conner trailed behind her, eyes fixed on her graceful stride.
I wonder if I'll ever reach her level…
"You really don't mind losing your eyesight, do you?" Charlotte asked casually, not even glancing his way.
Conner froze, a cold sweat breaking over his back. He hadn't looked at her directly—just sideways. Barely a glance. But of course… with her Shadow Sense, she saw everything.
Not daring to test whether the beautiful demoness would truly follow through with her threat, Conner reluctantly closed his eyes and followed her lead. They walked in silence until they stepped into what he first assumed was a large hall—only to realize that "large" didn't quite capture its scope. It was colossal, vast enough to make palaces look like storage rooms.
The ceiling stretched high above, its surface lost in shadows. Lining the great corridor were statues—towering effigies of the Verse's greatest defenders. Each one was a former member of the Shadow Legion, immortalized in stone for deeds that sounded like myth but were terrifyingly real. Conner knew better than to doubt the legends. Every member of the Legion possessed a mastery over shadow—an ability so strange and versatile that it defied logic. At a glance, it didn't appear extraordinary. But the deeper one delved into its nature, the more unfathomable and dangerous it became.
"We're here," Charlotte said, her calm voice snapping him from his thoughts.
Conner blinked and stared at the massive double doors ahead. Confusion crept across his face. When Charlotte punished someone, it usually involved a death mission—suicidal tasks that almost guaranteed a bloody end. But this door… this wasn't the one used for those assignments.
"What are you waiting for? Step inside," Charlotte said, her tone as serene as ever, though her eyes carried that same quiet, terrifying authority. Conner shivered. Then obeyed.
The moment he stepped through the doors, he froze.
The chamber beyond was illuminated by eerie, beast-bulbs—glowing orbs forged from the cores of fallen monsters. Seated on elevated thrones at the far end of the room were five figures. All wore the traditional black suits of the Legion, but their uniforms bore purple sun emblems—symbols of rank and power. Four of them had five suns emblazoned across their chests—far more than Charlotte, who only bore three.
They were Shadow Knights—elite warriors of the Legion. Only a hundred or so existed in the entire known universe. Conner's knees nearly gave out. These were beings that operated on a level far beyond his comprehension.
Then he saw the one seated at the center.
Long, raven-black hair flowed down past his shoulders. His skin was a deep, almost glimmering blue, and his gaze was sharp—calculating, cold. On his forehead rested a black tattoo that pulsed with a faint, oppressive glow. It radiated danger. Raw, unfiltered danger.
But what truly turned Conner's blood to ice wasn't the tattoo. It was the insignia.
Five purple suns.
This man wasn't just a Shadow Knight.
He was a Shade Ruler.
The Shade Rulers—five mythical figures who founded the Legion itself—were said to wield power capable of annihilating entire planets in under an hour, should they wish it. And standing before him was one of them. Vitraz—the Fifth Shade Ruler.
The blue-skinned man stood and offered a smile, which somehow only made everything worse.
"Don't be afraid," he said in a smooth, disarmingly calm voice. "I am Vitraz, the Fifth Shade Ruler."
It was meant to soothe. It didn't.
Conner's fear bloomed into raw terror.
Because he wasn't just standing before any Shade Ruler. He was standing before Vitraz himself—the one whispered about in the darkest corners of the Legion. The one known for grand executions and unthinkable torture. There was a saying that had circulated among the ranks for years:
"To meet Vitraz... is a fate worse than death."
And now Conner was staring him in the eyes.
Feeling utterly betrayed, Conner turned to Charlotte with a look that screamed treason. He'd always known the demoness was ruthless—strict, unpredictable, and borderline insane—but never in his wildest nightmares did he imagine she'd actually send him to his untimely grave. And maybe, if he was unlucky, through a bit of vile torture beforehand—all because he'd fallen asleep?
She met his glare with her usual cold, unreadable expression. No guilt. No hesitation. Just that serene, chilling stillness.
She didn't even flinch.
Does she feel nothing? Conner thought bitterly, his pale face tight with frustration.
Sensing the tension, Vitraz let out a low chuckle that echoed through the grand chamber. He cleared his throat, drawing Conner's attention back to him.
"You misunderstand, Agent Steele," Vitraz said, voice smooth and almost amused. "I'm not as wicked and dangerous as the universe makes me out to be."
Conner's expression didn't budge. If anything, his eyes narrowed.
Yeah, right. Half the Verse called him a monster, and the other half just prayed not to end up on his bad side. That wasn't just rumor—that was trillions of voices echoing the same fear.
Vitraz sighed, clearly aware that his reputation was doing him no favors.
"Very well," he said, "let's skip the performance. I didn't summon you here for punishment—or execution. I brought you here with an offer. One that comes with two rather... generous rewards."
Conner blinked, curiosity momentarily overpowering his suspicion.
Vitraz smiled faintly. "Complete this mission," he said, "and you will be allowed to return to Earth. Not just for a brief visit, but for a few full years—to be with your people again, to remember who you were before the shadows claimed you."
Conner's heart skipped. Earth. It had been so long that he'd nearly forgotten what sunlight felt like there—what life had once been before all of this.
But Vitraz wasn't finished.
"And when you return," he continued, eyes gleaming, "you'll be promoted to the next rank. Your Shadow ability will ascend—refined, evolved. You'll be reborn as something stronger. Something greater."
He paused, then leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into something almost reverent.
"How would you like to become… a Shadow Walker, Agent Steele?"
TO BE CONTINUED...
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