In the all the realms, when a mythical mana core is forged, the individual who bears it is momentarily elevated—touched by mana itself. For a brief time—mere minutes—they are favored. The world bends to their will unnaturally. Magic flows not like a river, but like a flood. Their very physiques and minds are elevated, leaving them in a state of clear focus. Like they're high on mana.
Aster Hunt and Astra Noctis had ascended.
They were both deemed worthy of a mythical core by the mana of the realms, meaning their achievements, talents and will was so extraordinary mana deems it worthy of a myth, the quality and essence of such mana makes it pure, more potent, more powerful.
Not many beings forge mythical cores. To even be worthy of a legendary core would mean one is a genius among geniuses a talent among talents.
Thus for the next three minutes, the battlefield would become sacred—not because of who they were, but because of what they were becoming.
....
Above a massive coliseum, a blackstar loomed—its presence heavy, eternal. It pulsed with raw astral power, casting an eerie midnight hue over the arena. The skies above usually a twilight, faded, showing the magnificent Star lit skies as they welcomed reveled in their heirs ascension.
Beneath it stretched a forest born from an unholy union, a white jungle with leaves the color of blood, grown from a towering World Tree of Ruin. The canopy twisted skyward as if to cage the heavens themselves, shrubbery all around the desert scape of Duskfall grew rapidly, the rotting trash, animals or bodies all decayed faster responding to the entropy.
The ground below was a surreal mix of black sand and golden shimmer, as if a golden galaxy had crashed into a desert. Hundreds of thousands watched in breathless awe from the coliseum's outer walls, their hearts synchronized with each clash.
And at the center—two champions. Two storms.
Astra of House Night, shadow incarnate, eyes aglow with starlight. Aster of House Hunt, reborn, cloaked in ruin and rebirth, her mana overflowing ever paradoxically.
...
Astra stood across aster a smile illuminating his face, Aster smiled the same
There were no words. Not now.
Only motion.
Astra struck first, his blade a streak of black steel and shadows. The Sword of the Stars style he had studied and trained shimmered with constellation threads, each swing trailing a comet's tail. He flowed like gravity, precise and poetic.
Aster met him. Twin short swords danced in her hands—silver gleaming with corruption and bloom. She twirled mid-parry, unleashing a mana arrow at point-blank range, aiming for his heart.
Astra twisted sideways—his shadow rippled, catching the arrow midair and snapping it like twine.
Above, their domains began to pulse.
Astra's domain called little tiny stars down—falling meteors of shadow-wrapped light tore from the sky.
Aster's domain answered with petals of rot, red leaves that burst like mines midair, canceling out the meteors and re-seeding the battlefield.
Roots tore through the black sand. Vines tried to wrap around Astra's legs.
Slice. Flash. Dash.
Astra cut through them in a flurry of precision strikes, body spinning like a celestial gear.
Astra darted forward again, shadows curling around his limbs like sentient smoke. His armor, once black as the void, shimmered now with starlight—each plate reflecting constellations that weren't in the sky, as if pulled from a forgotten corner of the cosmos. His presence blurred, gravity lurching around him with every movement. He wasn't just fast—he was inevitable.
Aster met him, swords drawn low. Her armor, once a forest-etched steel, was beginning to dissolve—not from damage, but from the sheer overflow of mana bursting from her. Each step she took left behind petals and spores, and the ground beneath her feet cracked with both new growth and inevitable decay. She pulsed like a second heartbeat to the World Tree behind her.
Their weapons met—steel kissed steel—and shockwaves bent the air.
No words still. Just fire in their eyes.
Asters twin swords and her brutal style clashed against Astras, Astra was disadvantaged, he hadn't fully mastered shadow sword or sword of the stars, and he was flowing between the two Aster was pressuring him.
Astra inbued starlight into his sword as he enhanced it, shadow and stars combined, forming an ethereal dark brilliant glow. mana around him twinkled as if it were the distant stars in the skies, as Aster closed in, his sword meeting her two as an explosion of starlight met an explosion of rot and growth.
Astra saw through Asters style easily sure, yet she was so talented, so strong and gifted that it didnt even matter if he did. just because you know something is coming doesn't mean you'd be able to dodge it. Her little traps made it to where he had to take a hit or face damage worse if he had dodged.
"She's truly a huntress" he thought as he closed after blocking her strike his sword gleaming against hers as mana and steel sparkled, she moved her head as he cut her cheek, before an explosion of rot and healing pushed him back.
Astra's sword danced in shadows and glints of ethereal light, carving arcs of starlight mid-swing. He slashed upward, and from the trail, a river of focused light surged forward—a concentrated current of astral mana, radiant and unstoppable.
Aster responded not with a shield, but a barrier of intertwined vines, surging from the ground. They writhed—half-rotten, half-blossoming—and absorbed the river's fury even as parts of them disintegrated. Where the river met the rot, a steam hissed up, dark and luminous all at once.
The crowd watched, entranced.
Aster leapt again, flipping through her own falling red leaves. As she spun, she fired an arrow infused with rebirth and ruin, its trajectory curving unnaturally. It wasn't aimed at Astra—it was aimed at the shadow he stood on.
His shadow rebelled, suddenly surging up as a tendril to intercept the arrow—but the spell had already infected it.
"Smart," Astra murmured for the first time, voice almost reverent. "So, she can heal, enhance and overload mana flesh and plants. she can rot, ruin corrupt and even destroy the same. how terrifying."
He burned it. Instantly. The corrupted shadow flared with starlight, consumed in a burst of flame-less light, and he launched himself forward—straight through the clearing mana.
He struck. She blocked.
Twin swords met the blade of the stars again. Sparks flew—not metallic, but magical: embers of galaxies and spores of ruin. Her left blade jabbed for his ribs—he parried and riposted with a downward arc, forcing her into a dodge that sundered the dark sand.
She was grinning.
So was he.
Aster extended her hand mid-motion, dozens of arrows manifesting around her in a spinning halo, each glowing with dual mana—green life and grey decay. They fired not as projectiles, but like a storm of thorns chasing a shadow.
Astra responded by slipping into the folds of light. Literally. His body broke apart for a heartbeat, dissolved into a silhouette of twinkling stars—and reformed behind her, something he didn't even know he could do, only possible due to his new ascension, and domain.
But Aster had already turned, swords ready.
Steel clanged. Sparks again.
From the heavens, the blackstar pulsed harder, shadows deepening. In its light, Astra flared, his sword now pure starlight. The shadows around him thickened and lifted, forming half a cloak, half a wing—a celestial silhouette that shifted and pulsed with power.
He raised his free hand.
The sky answered.
Meteor-like droplets of condensed starlight began falling from the dome above, each the size of a fist, crashing into the arena around them.
Aster stood her ground.
"Grow," she whispered.
And the World Tree did.
From its roots, massive vines erupted, spiraling upward and coiling like serpents to meet the descending astral fire. Where they met, explosions of rot and rebirth created fireworks of paradox—life blooming from impact, only to wither, and bloom again.
Their battlefield was a paradox. A dreamscape.
Astra's cloak whipped behind him. He dashed again.
This time, both of Aster's swords glowed. One burned like a holy pyre, the other wept black ichor. She met his swing with both, sparks of pure mana screaming from the impact.
They fought like this for minutes—spell after spell, slash after parry, twinned with divine footwork and battle intuition sharpened to mythical edge.
Every exchange was a conversation written in fire and decay.
A celestial knight met the fury of a blooming apocalypse paladin.
And both of them were drunk on power, lost in clarity, as they loved every single second of it.
Time was almost up.
And neither had won Astra knew the end was near. "I need to end this now. Im falling behind, unlike aster I haven't practiced my star magic as much. crap." he ducked rot vines, the way aster used her mana, if he touched it, hed have to burn it...and it hurt a lot. He retreated through the clearing of the withered forest Stars and Shadows covering as they met vines, wooden roots, branches and leaves.
Astra now stood tall in the center of the coliseum, in the middle of the withered forest, like a fallen star in the place it had impacted.The once-breathing canopy lay in ruins around him—crimson leaves turned to ash, white bark splintered and cracked, black sand marbled with golden dust underfoot. The echo of distant cheers faded into his mind.
He took in the moment as he felt the shadows, the stars, his new core, new power, his breaths were shallow as he raised his eyes to the heavens above.
Then—he spoke, his voice, low and reverent, as it cut through the tension thick with mana:
"Oh stars… feel me."
The sky of his domain spell answered.
The stars didn't shimmer—they moved. Slowly at first, then faster. One by one, they began to spiral inward, forming a celestial vortex above the coliseum, all converging toward the looming Blackstar.
That cursed celestial body pulsed—once, twice—and then roared to life, overflowing with raw, blinding mana. Its surface fractured like obsidian glass filled with liquid light. Even the free shadows—from the stands, from the deepest cracks of the world—were ripped free, flowing upward like smoke in reverse, devoured by the star.
Astra's form glowed, silhouette merging with starlight and darkness. He poured every reserve into the spell—breaking Rank Three's limits by sheer will, desperation, and the last blessings of mana still clinging to his new mythical core.
He looked to her. Smiling softly.
"You're amazing."
Aster stood right at the heart of her domain smiling brightly, the World Tree of Ruin behind her—once proud, now twisted into something new. The remaining jungle had died, withered instantly, but its essence remained—channeled, condensed, recycled.
Her heterochromic eyes gleamed—one rebirth, one rot.
And the tree responded.
White unholy roots sifted the coliseums black sands gold shimmering, drawing on every last drop of mana she gave. Vines twisted and merged, feeding the tree until it bloomed once more—this time bleached bone-white, its leaves a crimson so dark they were nearly black.
It was no longer forest.
It was faith made flesh, pulsing as it broke rank three limits mana surging.
Two Rank three domains turned ultimate spells.
The coliseum roared to life
The blackstar in the sky collapsed inward as it began its evolution, shrinking and shrinking, and for a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
Then— Astras voice was heard.
"Fall"
-chaos
A silence so absolute it crushed thought—followed by the implosion of the sky.
The Blackstar fell—not like a meteor, but like a sun being born in reverse. The spiral of stars collapsed into it, and then burst outward in a corona of pure astral light.
Aster smiled as she said one command
"Rise"
The World Tree met it head on—its branches twisted into a cage, its roots into armor, its heart pulsing with the paradox of life and death. When the two forces collided, the world screamed.
The coliseum's barriers cracked, flickering with desperate runes trying to hold.
From the impact zone, a column of light rose miles high, fracturing into a million threads of silver and red—each a combination of their mana.
Where it touched the ground, golden-black sand turned to glass. Trees bloomed then disintegrated in seconds. The very air was sliced, time distorting at the outer edges of the shockwave.
The crowd gasped, shielding their eyes as the entire sky turned white for a breath.
When the light faded—
The battlefield was ruins. Pieces of glass. Charred roots. Whispers of leaves that didn't exist anymore.
And standing in the center…
Astra. Knees buckling. Body smoking. Armor severely damaged. Sword tip buried in the glassed earth as he barely held himself upright, panting.
Still alive.
Barely.
"...Did I win?"
he heard a rustle.
A flicker of movement.
And suddenly—a knife pressed gently to his throat, her breath warm on his ear, her presence a whisper of mischief and power.
"You really are pretty," Aster whispered, grinning as she leaned in, the ruins glowing around her like a divine aftermath. "
She seemed to have used her last remaining mana to heal herself." Astra sighed
Then—she vanished, dissipating in the remnants of her tree, like a blossom caught on the wind.
The bishop stood, mouth open in disbelief.
"Victory… Aster Hunt!!"
The crowd erupted—not in cheers, not at first, but in a stunned, sacred awe.
Because what they had just witnessed was not a duel.
It was the collision of myths.
A mythical final match—and the world would never forget it.
.....
Astras vision began to fade as he saw, darkness. Then stars.
His body fell to the coliseum floor like a puppet with cut strings as he collapsed, shadow and starlight leaking from the fractures of his being. The roar of the crowd faded, replaced by silence. Not peace. Silence.
He dreamed—not of rest—but of the battle. Of his Blackstar crashing, of the tree of ruin and rebirth twisting skyward like roots into heaven, of her smile—
Then something shifted.
Time slowed.
The dream, his dream... unraveled.
He saw threads.
Thousands—no—millions. Woven across his vision like the veins of a god's corpse, stretching across the void. Each thread was a color he couldn't name, a sound he couldn't hear, a feeling he couldn't process. They pulsed, beckoning. Astra tried to move, to breathe, to understand—
And then he woke.
or did he?
But it wasn't his room.
He stood in a lair, vast and unfathomable. Velvet shadows draped every surface, thick as blood, heavy as guilt. The walls pulsed like a heartbeat. Mirrors framed in bones reflected truths that hadn't yet happened. Candles burned with flame that screamed, casting no light. The ceiling was a dome of void, and in its center, suspended like a hung star, was a tooth—divine, ancient, still dripping celestial ichor.
And sitting beneath it...
A certain devil.
The Harbinger of Twisted Truths.
He sat lazily atop a throne of stitched silk and obsidian. Cup of molten stars lazily swirled in his hand. He looked like a man sculpted by contradictions: elegant robes of noble cut but torn by madness, skin too perfect to be real, eyes that changed with every blink—gold, then crimson, then a yawning void where color died. He completely different from the last time Astra had seen him.
The unfiltered presence nearly broke Astra.
It pressed against him like a thousand sins given form. The air thickened into poison, into confessions, into hunger. Every dark thought, every selfish dream, every buried desire rose up and whispered in his ears—
He nearly fell.
But he refused to kneel.
His knees trembled. His teeth grit. He raised his eyes and stared into the harbinger of twisted truths.
The devil smiled, manic and delighted as he eased his prescense.
"My oh my... how despicable. How tenacious!. How bold!"
His voice echoed, not with sound, but with meaning.
"Astra Noctis of House Night. We meet again oh heir of the stars!."
The devil smiled as he tilted his head
"It took you a week to realize your fate, your power. A week to beat the top prospects of royal houses! How hilarious! Only to lose in never seen before double mythical core ascension match...against the Huntress of Ruin at that!"
He leaned forward, hands steepled as he narrowed his gaze, his eyes swirling in colors.
"hmmmm. What happens next, I wonder?"
Astra met his gaze without flinching.
His curiosity surging.
He didn't know how he got here. Didn't know what this place was. But he could feel it in his bones:
This wasn't a exactly dream.
"War," Astra said quietly. "House Shadow used me. An excuse to insult and instigate Dusk, Dawn, and Hunt. House Dune will play cleanup to make war… elegant no doubt other houses are involved. And me? I don't know where I fit in if I do at all, my lineage cannot stand apparently."
He raised his chin.
"But I do know one thing's for sure, oh harbinger of twisted truths"
a small grin appeared on the Devils face
"Oh?....and what's that?"
"I won't be used."
The Devils grin split wider.
"This...this is why I blessed you. So young, so tenacious yet so apt. My oh my..."
In a blink, he vanished.
And reappeared behind Astra, walking slow, like a predator circling prey.
Astra flinched
"But Astra... that's not all that's going to happen. You see... this war? It's been brewing for centuries. And it all started with your oh-so-desperate House Night."
Astra's curiosity surged.
"How?"
The devil sighed with dramatic flair.
"Your despicable house got too ambitious. Forgot what lurks in the darkness. Dusk met with Dawn—two rivals of Night. They've clashed since the first eclipse, annoying little gnats... always dragging me into their mess."
He waved his hand, bored.
"They commissioned Hunt. And Hunt, unlike other Sahara houses, holds the unified throne of Alfheim. Peaceful. Sinister. Bah. The six realms are caught too, Apu, Wai, Dunya and Snaer. War is looming, as for why? well I am not a history teacher and it wont even matter if you knew the full story as war has already started you know!."
Astra's voice was calm.
"Then what do you want from me, why exactly bless me?"
His violet eyes narrowed, sharp and searching.
The devil laughed again, teeth gleaming like knives.
"What do I want...? Nothing in particuar, you can just say I snagged a talent."
"Your house did have safeguards—oaths, bindings. I am also compelled to help you. That's all you should know."
He sat again, twirling the divine tooth.
His voice went low as he chuckled.
"If I told you the truth... you'd die."
Something deep inside Astra screamed at that sentence. A primal warning. His soul bristled.
"Very well," Astra replied.
The Devils voice softened, almost fond.
"I mean you no harm, boy. I'm simply chasing the same thing you are."
"And what's that?" Astra asked.
The devil turned, eyes glinting like black suns.
"Power."
The word echoed, soaked in madness.
Astra's hair stood on end. The mana in his cores stirred.
Power.
"Anyway," the devil said lightly, "I just came to say hi. And to congratulate you."
He raised a hand lazily.
"You formed a second core… and a mythical one at that a truly wondrous feat. not just anyone is capable especially at your age.. Delightful. I am to assume you know how blessings work?"
Astra nodded
"Good. Keep burning, little star. Who knows... maybe one day, you'll light up the skies."
He winked as his hand fell.
And Astra saw strings again as he woke up.
.....
Astra woke in a panic shirtless, shadows curling and thrashing around him like living things. His breath came sharp, wild, until he forced it down—inhale, exhale, focus.
"Gods" he murmeredThe room was unfamiliar—vast, draped in black silks and gold accents carved in darkstone—but the banner of House Shadow hung proudly on the far wall, stitched in thread so dark it almost seemed to drink in the torchlight. He wasn't a prisoner or dead. At least, not in the traditional sense.
As Astra sat up, he immediately felt it.
Stronger. Heavier. Brighter.
His mana pulsed within him like a second heartbeat, vast and deep and untamed. Two cores now—two!—both glimmering with myth, overflowing with a potency that hummed against his skin.Gone was the hollow ache of longing for distant stars; now they answered him, sang to him. He could feel the night sky in his veins. He had embraced his birthright, no longer needing to hide behind fear or careful masks.And yet...
"I'm no doubt a major target now," Astra muttered to himself, voice low, edged with grim acceptance. "Every House... they'll either want me in chains or dead. Probably dead."He flexed his hand, mana flowing easily through his fingertips like ribbons of starlight and shadow.
Strength. I need strength—and fast.
On instinct, Astra summoned his coin.
It materialized in his palm with a flash of starfire, spinning lazily. But he blinked—startled—as it shifted in front of him.
The once imperial pawn, once a dark, ethereal green, now gleamed with a silvery-blue radiance engraved with the image of a long sword and shield the dagger that used to be engraved gone. Its shape refined itself, edges sharper, more intricate.It was no longer an imperial pawn but an Imperial Squire.
A step higher on the path of divinity.
"Huh. Neat." Astra said aloud, a small smile breaking across his face despite everything.
The coin pulsed warmly, almost approvingly, and he realized—for the first time in what felt like forever—he was no longer just chasing destiny.
He really was forging it.
Astra, still sitting on the edge of the dark stone bed, took a breath. I need information.Without hesitation, he flicked his hand, weaving a simple thread of mana into the room's network glyph embedded into the wall.The mana crystal embedded there flared to life, connecting him instantly to the ManaNetwork—the world's pulse.
And what he saw made his breath still.
Hundreds of articles.Live shows flashing across the screen like lightning.Guild of News anchors frantically trying to stay ahead of the chaos, their magic-infused screens pulsing with urgent overlays.The world had exploded.
BREAKING: ASTRA OF SHADOW, TRUE IDENTITY REVEALED?? HEIR OF HOUSE NIGHT??!
ASTER HUNT: MYTHICAL ASCENSION CONFIRMED!
ASTRA NOCTIS: MYTHICAL ASCENSION CONFIRMED!
HOUSE DAWN MOBILIZES! WAR PREPARATIONS BEGIN!
HOUSE HUNT MOBILIZES!
THE TRUTH BEHIND HOUSE NIGHTS… FALL?
HOUSE SHADOW MOBILIZES!
HOUSE DUNE MOVES TO "SUPPORT STABILIZATION!"
TENSIONS RISE ACROSS ALL REALMS!
Each headline smashed into him harder than the last.
The feeds switched again—live footage showed the Realm of Apu, mountains ablaze, volcanoes stirring as vast armies clashed and champions were forged, the feed struggling to keep up.
BREAKING: THE REALM OF APU IS AT WAR!
Next, golden-lit halls filled the screen:The Guild of War—that legendary, ancient organization—was throwing banquets, celebrating the "glorious age of conflict" like wolves scenting blood on the wind.
All while anchors shouted over each other, spellcasters sending live bulletins every second.The air itself through the screen felt like it was buzzing, thrumming, with madness.
Astra just watched it all, silent.The realms weren't just changing.
they were fracturing.
He leaned back slightly, the edges of his vision swimming with the immensity of it all.A Mythical core was already enough to shift the whole mana network and start an age of competitive ascensions.But now
He- the last heir of the forgotten House Night—had risen.She—Aster Hunt, Hunt's hidden blade—had awakened fully.And the ancient Houses were moving their pieces.Everything was unraveling at a pace no one could control anymore.
The shadows on the wall seemed to flicker with anticipation, and Astra whispered to himself,"I woke up in a new world.""I need to move. not in the shadows but under the stars."
....
Elsewhere
Across the Realms, the ancient and the damned stirred.
In the endless jungles of Alfheim, within a living palace carved from an eternal world-tree, seven figures cloaked in vibrant yet rotting greenery sat at a round table.Their eyes were glassy, their smiles hollow. The vines twisted around their throats like nooses.A woman, wearing a crown woven of thorned roses, leaned forward as she smiled."The peace has ended. Let the Hunt begin again."
...
Beneath the oceans of Wai, in an abyssal cathedral lined with whale bones and drowned relics, shadowy forms glided between the currents.Glowing sigils etched into their skin.A man with coral horns whispered, "The land will bleed. The sea will rise."An army of leviathans stirred in the blackness below.
....
Atop the volcanoes of Apu, in a castle of obsidian and gold that hovered over molten rivers, demonic-looking lords and angelic archons dined together.Their laughter was cruel and hollow, echoing through the calderas.A giant wrapped in chains rose from his throne, slamming a chalice of lava onto the stone floor, grinning with burning teeth."Let the Realms remember fear."
...
On the great plains of Dunya, inside a vast palace woven of living gold and screaming winds, merchant-kings and prophet-queens unfurled maps written in blood.Their armies, unseen yet inevitable, began to move under the endless sky.A masked figure in white silk muttered,"All things are bought. All debts are due."
....
In the frozen wastes of Snaer, in a palace of frost and shattered stars, ancient things that had once been called gods opened their eyes for the first time in eons.The ice cracked with every breath they took.One of them, a being draped in mourning veils, scrawled a single word into the permafrost:"War."
....
And in the highest spires of Duskfall, hidden even from the moons, among the broken remnants of House Night, something darker still... stirred.A blade forgotten by history.A will older than kings.
And it smiled.
.....
Across every Realm — the Houses—ancient, noble, or ruined—the angels and devils—high and low—the kings and killers—silent and waiting—all lifted their goblets, their blades, their prayers, or their curses—
and declared:
The Age of Peace is dead. The Age of War has begun
[END OF VOLUME ONE]
[Of The Shadows]