Coker stood there... still. The wind wasn't blowing, but everything inside him felt like a storm. His shadow didn't stay behind him anymore. It moved. It stretched. It twitched.
The others had summoned their beasts under the sacred ceremony at the Grand Spiral Altar, with chants, guidance stones, priest-warlocks, and glowing divine marks. But Coker... he never had that chance. The world never wanted to give him one.
He had to steal his.
And now, the price for stealing power—it was starting to show.
Earlier that morning, when he opened his eyes, he didn't even know where he was. The stone chamber around him looked carved by ancient hands, glowing faintly with blue lines on the wall. The summoning had not been normal. There was no beast egg. There was no gate. There was no light.
There was only the voice.
"You took what wasn't given… now you pay with more than just soul."
He didn't know if it came from within him or around him, but his bones shook when it spoke.
Now, walking through the ruined canyon path alone, Coker started noticing it again.
His feet didn't make sounds anymore. No matter the rock, dust, or broken sticks—there was silence. Not like the silence of calm… but the silence of a hunting predator.
The other students, back at the academy, were celebrating their Beast Awakening Week. Laughing. Sharing drinks. Showing off the neon glows of their tamed wolves, armored serpents, and storm dragons.
Coker had no such thing to show.
But something was following him. Or maybe, it was inside him.
When night fell, he camped beneath the Hollow Root Tree, using dead leaves to hide the crackling of cursed energy leaking from his hands. His body wasn't fully his anymore. When he blinked too fast, he could see two reflections in puddles. One him… and one behind him. A darker version. Always smiling. Always waiting.
That night, the dreams returned.
Except they weren't dreams.
He saw a mirror. But the mirror was not glass—it was smoke. Inside it, a beast with no shape. It didn't walk. It moved. Like shadow wrapped in shadow. No legs. Just form. No face. Just glowing marks—ancient marks. One pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. And then the words carved themselves into the smoke:
"You are no master yet. You are the door."
Coker woke up screaming. But the world did not hear. Only the beast inside did.
The next day, he returned to the edge of the academy's southern wall. He wasn't allowed in anymore. They expelled him. Not because he did anything wrong—but because the summoning crystal cracked when he touched it. The elders whispered.
"Cursed."
"Possessed."
"Demon-born."
But they didn't know the truth.
They didn't know that Coker's beast wasn't summoned.
It chose him.
And it wasn't born from the Beast Realm like others. It was born from the Void Between Realms. A place forbidden to even mention.
The beast had no name. Because it devours names.
When Coker tried to name it... his voice disappeared for two days. He couldn't speak. Not a single word. He wrote instead.
"The name is not to be given. It must be earned."
So he started calling it "Nothing." Because even a shadow that devours names must be called something.
Now, sitting under the broken moonlight, Coker whispered to himself.
"They can laugh at me… they can call me monster… but when war comes… they'll beg me to be their savior."
And deep inside him, Nothing laughed.
The laugh of a beast that has waited too long.
But something new happened that night.
For the first time since the summoning, the beast responded without pain.
When Coker extended his hand to the shadows—something extended back.
A claw.
But not to hurt.
To hold.
Coker gritted his teeth, pulling energy from deep inside. His veins glowed dark violet, like cursed ink spreading through flesh. He screamed, and the shadows around him exploded into tendrils, wrapping trees, crushing rocks. Lightning flickered in the distance, but it wasn't storm-born.
It was shadow-born.
He collapsed.
And this time, when he fell asleep… he didn't dream.
He remembered.
A time before time. A war before life. A throne that was shattered. And a crown made of screaming shadows… placed on his head.
When he woke up, the mark had appeared on his chest.
A mark of the old world.
And every elder, every noble, every divine priest who saw it… would fall to their knees.
But that's a story for another chapter.
For now, Coker stood up again… a little more broken, a little more awakened.
And the beast inside smiled.
Because soon... the world would learn.
The shadow does not serve the master.
The shadow is the master.