Chapter 1: The Humiliation of Kael Veyr
Rain streaked across the grand courtyard of Ardent Academy, turning the marble steps slick and shining under the dim afternoon light. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone and ink, and the distant murmur of students filled the corridors like a tide lapping at the shore. But Kael Veyr felt none of it. All he felt was the burn in his cheeks, the sting of humiliation, and the bitter laughter echoing around him.
"Pathetic," Eryk Morn sneered, stepping closer with the arrogance of someone who had never known struggle. "You actually thought you belonged here, Kael?" He spat, each word a dagger aimed straight at Kael's chest. "A scholar? A fool more like it. Look at you—wilted, useless, a disgrace to your family."
Kael's fingers clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening under the strain. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to lash out, to strike, to finally prove himself. But the Academy's rules, and more importantly, his own helplessness, held him in place. There was no strength in his limbs, no skill in his hands, just the hollow weight of impotence.
He could see it—the mocking faces of the nobles, their eyes sparkling with cruelty and superiority. They were poised on the steps like a chorus of vultures, ready to devour him piece by piece. His father's disgrace, his family's ruined name, and the cruel fate that had thrown him here all mingled together, a bitter storm in Kael's chest.
And then came the final blow.
A scroll, delivered by one of the so-called scholars of higher rank, unfurled in the courtyard, its words written in bold ink. The announcement of the academy's annual ranking was public—and Kael's name, for the first time in living memory, was at the very bottom. The sound of gasps and laughter erupted around him, ringing in his ears.
"Bottom. Again." Eryk's laughter was sharp, slicing through Kael's mind like ice. "How unsurprising. Even your shadows must be ashamed of you."
Kael's vision swam. Not from the rain, not from the cold, but from a fury that coiled in his chest like a living thing. His life, his efforts, everything he had clung to—mocked, trampled, destroyed. He wanted to scream. He wanted to vanish and never return.
But he didn't. He stayed, because in that moment, Kael realized something: his current self—the weak, ridiculed Kael—was finished. Dead. What remained was only the seed of something else, something that would grow and spread like shadows at dusk, devouring the arrogance of those who had spat on him.
The rain drew Kael out of the courtyard, down the winding streets of the city, away from the sneering students and gilded arrogance. He didn't know where he was heading, only that he needed to escape, to think, to be alone. His boots splashed through puddles, and the sound of water seemed to echo the rhythm of his heartbeat, fast and uneven, thrumming with something unfamiliar—anticipation.
Eventually, the cobbled streets opened into the outskirts of the city, where old ruins lay scattered like forgotten bones. A curious wind whispered through the broken stone arches, carrying a scent of damp earth and something older, something… alive. Kael's eyes caught a faint shimmer between the shadows, a light that danced and flickered unlike any torch or lantern.
Curiosity, sharp and burning, drove him forward. He entered the ruined structure. The interior was black, but not empty. Shadows clung to the walls as if they had weight, moving with a subtle life of their own. And in the very center of the chamber, a pool of black water reflected the dim light, rippling though there was no breeze.
Kael knelt by the edge, mesmerized. And then, the voice came.
"Kael Veyr."
He froze. The voice was not human, nor did it echo from anywhere. It came from inside him, vibrating through his chest, wrapping around his spine.
"I… I'm here," Kael said cautiously, though a part of him feared the answer.
"You want power." The shadows writhed in the pool, coiling like serpents. "You want strength, influence, revenge… but everything comes with a cost. Are you willing?"
Kael's chest heaved, mind racing. Power had never been offered to him, had never been a question—only a dream. Yet here it was, tangible, whispering in a way that made his blood thrum with need.
"Yes," he breathed. "I… I'll pay whatever it takes."
The shadows surged, licking his arms and legs like liquid night. Pain, sharp and searing, shot through him, and Kael cried out. But beneath the agony was a thrill unlike anything he had ever known. His senses sharpened; his mind raced with clarity and insight. The system—the voice, the shadows, the entity itself—had begun to teach him, to bind to him, to awaken something inside.
And as Kael fell to the wet stone, gasping for air, the shadows receded, leaving him trembling. He looked down at his hands. There, in the dim light, faint tendrils of darkness clung to his skin, twisting and writhing with a life of their own.
He had crossed a threshold.
No one would see him the same way again.
But far above, unseen, a figure watched from the Academy's highest tower. A cold smile crept across their lips. "Interesting… very interesting," they murmured.
And Kael knew nothing of the games that had already begun.