"SE is one of the several forms of latent energies, most other forms have been lost with time—" A slim woman droned on, her voice monotonous, lulling the class into a near-comatose state. Itekan, however, was struggling to keep his eyes open. His hands rested on his desk, supported by a shadow tentacle that also held his head in place, preventing him from dozing off completely.
This was their second History of Spiritual Energy class, and Itekan had already made up his mind: he was going to fail. The words flew right past him, his thoughts constantly drifting back to the conversation he'd had with Headmaster Kime a week ago.
The dungeon excursion event was just a week away, and Itekan couldn't help but feel the excitement bubbling up inside him. His mind wasn't on the class, but on the upcoming adventure, the possibility of discovering and hatching his spiritual beast. He couldn't afford to be distracted, but his anticipation gnawed at him relentlessly.
Beside him, Binturu had long since given up on pretending to pay attention. The boy was flat-out sleeping, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly ajar. He hadn't even bothered to sit up straight, his posture a perfect reflection of his disinterest. Even though they had all just begun this class, Binturu had already decided it wasn't worth his time. Itekan wasn't sure if he was more annoyed by Binturu's carefree attitude or envious of it.
When Itekan and Itoyea had woken him up the first time, Binturu had made his position clear. "History? Please, I was around long before most of the teachers in this academy. And now they want to teach me history?"
Itekan couldn't help but understand the sentiment. It wasn't that he wanted to skip the class, but the dry delivery of the material made it hard to keep his focus.
Itoyea, on the other hand, was hanging on every word that came out of the professor's mouth. His golden-yellow eyes glimmered with fascination, and Itekan couldn't help but wonder if his friend was here for the class—or if he was simply entranced by Professor Fernir's beauty. She may have lacked the charisma of a great lecturer, but she was undeniably striking. Her pale skin and flowing red hair made her a standout in any room. Itekan was sure most of the boys had signed up for the class just to catch a glimpse of her.
The hour dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, Itekan was one of the first to leave. The remaining students, mostly girls, lingered behind, eager to ask questions and get a moment alone with the professor.
Itekan had other plans. He wasn't interested in lunch at the cafeteria like the others. Instead, he headed straight for the training halls.
As he entered, he strapped on the arm and ankle weights that Elder Ye had prescribed for them, then made his way to one of the training grounds. The sound of combat met his ears as he approached, and he peered into the sparring area. There, a girl with short black hair was training. Her movements were graceful and effortless, despite the weights still strapped to her body. Itekan watched her for a few seconds before she sensed his gaze. Without missing a beat, she turned toward him.
Itekan offered a brief nod in her direction but didn't stop. Instead, he continued upstairs to the second floor.
There, the massive library spread out before him, filled with scrolls and books on various fighting techniques and battle strategies. He scanned the shelves until something caught his eye. Tucked away at the end of the row, covered with dust, was a book that seemed deliberately hidden. Most people would have overlooked it, but Itekan's shadow abilities gave him the advantage of seeing in the dark, and he had noticed it instantly.
He grabbed the book and made his way to a nearby table at the edge of the floor, overlooking the first level. As he flipped it open, a strange sensation washed over him—a sense of familiarity, like he had seen this book before.
The first page was blank, but as soon as Itekan infused a bit of his SE into the pages, the book sprang to life. Words began to appear, forming a spell. Itekan's breath caught. The energy from the book felt like a reflection of his own. In fact, he was certain this book had been written by the same person who had written the Shadow King's diary. Perhaps it was a copy—or perhaps the diary had been copied from this original. Either way, the connection was undeniable.
The spell was a shadow technique. Itekan felt a surge of excitement as he studied the words, a sense of purpose driving him to test it out. He stood up, ready to cast the spell.
"Funten tei paino wa juraei; Calogaja!!" he intoned, his SE condensing around him. Shadows spiraled into the air, materializing into daggers resembling the shadow weapons he was familiar with.
He knew, as soon as he spoke the incantation, that something was off. The spell worked—but it wasn't the real thing. This was a mere imitation, crafted by someone who had only a basic understanding of shadow magic.
"En ru Calogaja!" Itekan shouted, his eyes now voids of black, pulling in the light from around him. The air cracked as the condensed black lightning shot forward, and within moments, over a hundred shadow daggers appeared. Each one was etched with runes that sucked in the air itself. It felt like a living extension of his will.
The fake Shadow King's diary erupted into black flames, its pages disintegrating into ash. The power was overwhelming. As the spell's effects continued, Itekan suddenly felt his body grow heavy, his energy depleting faster than his shadow spirit could replenish it.
Before he knew it, he had passed out.
When Itekan woke, his head was throbbing, and his memory of the previous events was fragmented. But the flood of information that rushed into his mind told him all he needed to know. He now understood the Calogaja technique. The shadow daggers, the way they were controlled—they were his now.
Itekan felt lighter somehow, even with the weights still on him. He could tell his shadow energy had been used up faster than normal, but his body felt strangely more agile.
Without wasting another second, he jumped down to the first floor, landing gracefully. "Calogaja!" he shouted once again, summoning the daggers around him.
He could feel the shadow tendrils connecting each dagger to his body, as if they were his extra limbs. Itekan wasn't sure how, but he instinctively controlled them with perfect precision.
With a grin, he turned toward the training dummies and began to bombard them with shadow daggers, each strike swift and deadly, as if they were extensions of his very soul.
Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signatures (SST)