The silence in the arena was suffocating. Not a single noble dared to breathe too loudly, not a servant dared to whisper. All eyes, hundreds of them, were locked on the youth standing at the center—the boy who had always worn the mask of mediocrity.
**Ryner Alostrio.**
For fourteen years he had been ridiculed, sneered at, and treated as nothing more than a stain upon the illustrious Alostrio name. A child of average talent, born into a family that demanded brilliance. He had been tolerated but never celebrated. Endured but never admired.
But now—things were different.
The test pillar still carried the mark of his **9,800 strike power**, a record none had ever expected from him. His comprehension of the *Flowing Moon Slash* had been flawless, faster than most geniuses. He had defeated Darian without breaking a sweat.
And now, he stood facing the man who cast the longest shadow in his life—**Patriarch Hannas Alostrio.**
---
### The Patriarch's Pressure
The patriarch stood tall, dressed in layered silver and black robes embroidered with the crescent of their clan. His aura pressed upon the arena like a stormy ocean threatening to drown everyone present. Even the elders, seasoned in cultivation, sat straighter under the suffocating weight.
"Ryner," Hannas said, his voice booming like thunder, "show me what you've gained. Do not disappoint me."
A simple command, yet its weight could crush lesser men.
Ryner, however, only lifted his blade. His breathing was steady, his expression calm. Beneath that exterior, shadows churned in silence. He remembered the *Flowing Moon Slash* he had displayed earlier. Elegant, flowing, predictable. The clan's treasured technique.
But Ryner was not content with elegance. Predictability was a weakness. Predictability was a leash.
*What if the moon doesn't simply flow?*
*What if it vanishes—swallowed by the dark?*
His lips curved faintly, a smile that no one noticed.
---
### The Birth of a New Slash
Ryner's aura surged. But unlike the wild displays of his cousins, it was controlled, harmonized. His **Crown Vessel body** was a furnace where mana, aura, and life force did not clash but merged, strengthening each other.
He recalled Lucas's lessons: *The body is not a container, but a bridge.*
He recalled Rune's words: *Every technique is a language. Change a single letter, and it becomes something new.*
And so, he changed the letters of the Flowing Moon.
Instead of letting his aura flow outward like a river, he compressed it—tighter, sharper, darker. Then, he laced in **2% of the Obsidian's Temporal Darkness.** Just 2%, but it was enough to bend the fabric of the moment.
The world stuttered. Time itself held its breath.
He moved.
The arc of his blade curved like the crescent moon—yet at the edges, the light vanished. It was not light that danced, but absence. A crescent carved of shadow, outlined only in a thin thread of silver.
The audience felt their hearts clench as if something unseen had passed through them.
The slash struck Hannas's aura barrier.
No booming crash. No thunderous explosion.
Just a soft, dreadful sound:
**CRACK.**
A fine fracture spread across the patriarch's shield, glimmering like a spiderweb under moonlight.
Gasps erupted from the stands.
"What technique was that?!"
"It looked like the Flowing Moon—but it wasn't!"
"It carried darkness… something foreign…"
"Impossible. That was no Alostrio technique!"
Even the elders leaned forward, eyes wide with disbelief.
---
### The Patriarch's Realization
For the first time in many years, Hannas Alostrio's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed, his breathing deepened. He stared at his son—not the mask of mediocrity he had dismissed, but the vessel of something… dangerous.
Ryner lowered his blade. His breathing remained steady. His face betrayed no pride, no arrogance. Only his eyes glimmered faintly with cold fire.
"Patriarch," Ryner said softly, voice carrying in the stunned silence, "that was my version. *The New Moon Slash.*"
The words rang like a declaration.
A technique of his own.
Not inherited, not copied, not borrowed—created.
That was the mark of a genius, no, a monster. To create something new from the clan's foundation at just fourteen years of age… it was unheard of.
Hannas felt something stir deep in his chest. Not paternal pride—never that. But something colder, sharper.
*This boy… is dangerous.*
---
### Whispers in the Crowd
The nobles erupted into whispers.
"He created his own technique?!"
"At his age? That's impossible!"
"He was supposed to be average… how could this happen?"
"Is this why he always hid? Was he planning this all along?"
Servants exchanged nervous glances. Some of Ryner's half-brothers clenched their fists until their knuckles turned white. Alia, watching from the side, covered her mouth to hide her smile.
The tide was shifting.
The mask of mediocrity was cracking—and behind it, a storm waited.
---
### A Clash of Intent
Hannas dismissed his aura barrier, the fracture fading as though it had never been. Yet his eyes were sharp, his voice heavier than before.
"You've hidden much, Ryner. Too much."
Ryner simply met his gaze. "A mask is useful. Until it isn't."
A ripple passed through the crowd. Bold words, almost insolent. Yet spoken so calmly that they could not be dismissed as childish arrogance.
Hannas's aura flared again, heavier than before. The ground itself trembled beneath the weight. "Show me again. Show me whether your shadow is true strength, or mere illusion."
Ryner exhaled slowly. Shadows stirred at his feet, weaving faintly into the air. "As you command, Patriarch."
---
### The Second Slash
He raised his blade once more. This time, he poured in slightly more—**3% of Temporal Darkness.**
The world dimmed. The air thickened. The audience felt their hearts skip, as though they were standing on the edge of a precipice.
Ryner swung.
The slash curved—not silver, not bright—but a void edged with faint glimmers. The **New Moon Slash** cleaved through the air, quieter than a whisper.
It struck Hannas's aura head-on.
**BOOM.**
The barrier shattered outward, shards of light scattering like broken glass. Dust billowed across the arena.
When it cleared, Hannas stood unharmed—but his barrier was gone.
The silence that followed was absolute.
---
### The Patriarch's Verdict
Hannas lifted his hand, signaling the end of the duel. His voice, calm once more, carried across the arena.
"The trial ends here."
Gasps followed. Some expected him to strike Ryner down, others to reprimand him, but Hannas only looked at his son with unreadable eyes.
"Remember this, Ryner," Hannas said, his tone heavy. "A shadow can hide you, but it also draws fear. Walk carefully. Or you will find the entire world arrayed against you."
Ryner lowered his sword, bowing faintly. "I will remember, Patriarch."
But within, his thoughts burned: *Fear is fine. Let them fear. Fear is the truest respect.*
---
### Aftermath
That night, the estate buzzed like a hive. Servants whispered, elders debated, and the younger generation burned with jealousy.
"Did you see his strike?!"
"He cracked the patriarch's shield!"
"No, he shattered it the second time! How is that possible?"
"He's not the same Ryner anymore…"
For the first time in years, the name Ryner Alostrio carried weight.
But Ryner himself sat alone in his chambers, blade resting across his knees. He traced a finger along the wood, eyes half-closed.
The New Moon Slash had only been the beginning. A mere glimpse of the abyss he carried.
"Average," he whispered to himself, lips curling into a faint smile. "Let them keep believing that. The mask isn't broken yet… just cracked."
His gaze drifted toward the moon outside his window. Tonight, it was a thin crescent, glowing faintly against the night sky.
Soon, that crescent would vanish.
Soon, the world would face not the *Flowing Moon,* not even the *New Moon,* but the void that followed when light was consumed entirely.
And when that day came—
the Alostrio clan would learn that their discarded son was not a shadow at all.
He was the darkness itself.
**(Chapter End)**