The school gates creaked open, and a young boy stepped through—Darling Shadowsong. A glimmer of curiosity lit his eyes as he entered a classroom that buzzed with absolute chaos.
Kids were everywhere—shouting, laughing, throwing paper, some even climbing on desks. But as soon as the teacher stood from his seat, silence dropped like a curtain. The students froze, then gradually settled back into their seats.
Darling stepped forward, smiling brightly.
"Hello! My name is Darling Shadowsong, and I'd like to be an astronaut one day!"
Some kids exchanged glances, others shrugged—then the room exploded back into madness.
The teacher motioned toward an empty seat near the window. Darling nodded and made his way over.
Seated beside the window was a boy—motionless, staring out at nothing. He wore a classic black school uniform, and his hair was an unruly afro with sharp spikes jutting from the sides like claws.
Darling gave a friendly wave.
"Hey, I'm Darling. What's your name?"
The boy turned slowly, his glare cutting like glass, then turned back to the window without a word.
Darling leaned in a bit and noticed the name tag pinned to his blazer:
GRIF
He chuckled.
"Oh, Grif?"
Grif turned, scowling.
"What do you want?" he growled.
Darling held up both hands.
"Nothing, I just want to be friends with someone. You seem like the only sane person here."
Grif blinked. That wasn't what he expected. He turned away, annoyed.
"Well, leave me alone."
Darling, smiling, scooted his desk closer. A little too close.
Grif turned—and Darling's face was inches from his.
Grif shoved him back hard.
"I said leave me alone!"
THUD.
Darling hit the floor.
The classroom went dead silent. All eyes were on them. Whispers started—quiet, poisonous.
"Freak…"
"Why's he dress like that?"
"What's wrong with his hair?"
"His family's all messed up…"
Grif heard them all.
He clenched his fists, his chest rising and falling like a ticking bomb. Darling sat up, rubbing his shoulder, confused.
Their eyes met.
Grif stared.
"You…" he muttered.
Darling stood, brushing dust from his shirt.
"Hey, are you okay?"
He asked, innocent. Oblivious.
Grif didn't answer. His eyes burned.
"You got the whole class looking at us. At me. You happy now!?"
Darling backed up, uneasy.
"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you."
The teacher approached cautiously, reaching for Grif's shoulder.
"That's enough, Grif—"
SNAP.
A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the room.
The teacher crumpled, clutching the ragged stump where his hand had just been.
Blood splattered across the whiteboard.
Panic.
Kids screamed and stampeded out of the room.
Grif didn't wait.
He lunged at Darling with a roar, leapt into the air, and kicked him clean across the classroom.
CRASH!
Darling slammed through the back wall and flew down the hallway, tumbling across the tiled floor.
He gasped for air, hand clutching his chest. Blood trickled from his mouth.
From the ruined classroom, Grif emerged, sprinting unnaturally fast, feet pounding like thunder.
Darling staggered up, stumbling into a run.
"DON'T RUN, SHADOWSONG!"
Grif's voice boomed behind him.
"FIGHT BACK!"
His foot charged with fury, his body launching forward—
another kick incoming.
Darling turned—just in time.
Grif's foot was already in front of him, coming in like a missile.
Darling raised his arms instinctively—too late to think, only to react.
CRACK!
His forearms shattered like glass under pressure.
"AAAAAAAGH!! IT HURTS!!!"
Darling screamed, pain exploding through his nerves like wildfire.
But something else erupted with the pain.
A blast of unseen force surged outward from him—a shockwave of pure power.
BOOM!
Grif was launched back, crashing through concrete and desks, vanishing into a cloud of rubble.
The hallway collapsed. Half the school was now a mangled ruin of twisted metal and broken brick.
From the debris, Grif rose, blood dripping from his forehead, his eyes wide—furious.
"You… You're gonna get me caught again…"
Darling stood trembling, tears mixing with dust on his face.
His arms hung useless, fractured and limp.
Still, he tried to wipe the tears away with his broken wrists, wincing.
"You did this to yourself!"
His voice cracked as he shouted.
Grif stomped through the rubble like a beast, each step heavier than the last.
"I'LL STILL FIGHT YOU!"
he roared.
But then—
DUN.
A massive needle-like weapon slammed down between them, the earth shaking beneath it.
Both boys froze.
Up on the rooftop, a figure leaned forward dramatically, perched with effortless arrogance.
He wore a sleek black suit, sharp as his smirk. His stance—zesty, theatrical.
"Mhmhahahah!"
He laughed like a man who loved chaos.
"You little idiots, tearing down buildings and ruining our whole reputation!"
The man dropped down from the rooftop with a cocky grin, landing effortlessly between the chaos like it was a casual visit.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shimmering key, flipping it between his fingers.
"So… you must be the new Shadowsong, huh?"
Before he could say more, he noticed Grif still charging forward like a rabid beast.
The man sighed.
With no urgency, he snatched Darling by the collar and floated up, levitating above the crumbling street.
"Kid, you gotta learn to fight back."
He looked at Darling's limp arms, dangling like broken marionette strings.
"Tanking hits is impressive—but surviving ain't the same as living."
He reached over, examining one of Darling's arms with casual curiosity.
"Yeesh. That's rough."
Darling groaned, his eyes darting down—Grif was leaping at them again.
"Persistent little freak, isn't he?"
The man glanced down, deadpan.
Then something caught his eye.
Darling's wrist. The watch.
His smirk returned.
"Ah… so they've got a dampener on you, huh?"
He casually grabbed Darling's wrist—and with one squeeze—
CRACK.
The watch shattered into dust.
A pulse of energy burst from Darling's body—his broken arms snapped back into place like time reversing.
The man's expression lit up with theatrical excitement.
"A Feather user? Oh, now this is interesting!"
Without warning, he hurled Darling straight down at Grif.
FWOOSH!!!
The impact rocked the city block—a thunderous shockwave ripped through the air.
High above, the man floated again, now lounging midair on nothing, as if seated on an invisible chair. He gave Darling a casual thumbs-up.
But Darling barely had a second to look up before—
WHAM!
Grif's fist collided with his face.
Darling was launched across the street, barreling through parked cars like a pinball—metal folding around him in sparks and shrapnel.
He stumbled up, dazed—but this time, there was no pain.
His hand reached up to his face. Dried blood. But nothing hurt.
"Huh?"
He muttered, confused—and then saw Grif charging again.
Darling steadied his feet. A slow breath in.
He closed his eyes.
"I've seen this in a show."
He whispered.
"When he gets close… I'll just—"
Grif's left kick whipped toward his head—
But Darling dodged. Effortlessly.
Another kick. Dodged again.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
A blur of motion—until Darling snatched Grif's foot mid-swing.
In one smooth motion, he twisted—Grif cried out and crashed to the ground.
Darling didn't stop.
He gripped Grif by the leg, bent his knees—and leapt.
HIGH.
The city fell away below them. And then—
CRASH!!!
Darling slammed Grif into the ground, the force carving out a crater in the middle of the street.
Dust and debris shot skyward like a small explosion.
Darling landed a moment later, crashing directly on top of Grif, knocking the fight clean out of him.
Grif lay unconscious, breathing soft and slow.
The man from the sky floated down slowly, adjusting his tie like he'd just walked out of a boardroom—not a battlefield.
He smirked as his feet touched the cracked pavement, then extended a hand toward Darling.
"Name's Marshall, by the way. I already know yours, don't worry."
Darling, still catching his breath, hesitated before taking the hand. They shook briefly. Marshall's grip was firm—too firm.
Then Marshall turned his attention toward Grif, who lay unconscious in the crater.
He knelt beside him, extending a hand toward Grif's chest.
Darling's eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing…?"
His tone edged with unease.
Marshall glanced back with a dismissive shrug.
"Relax, kid. People like us? This is how we've survived. Thousands of years—we take what we need. It's how you get stronger."
Darling stood frozen, uneasiness growing in his chest.
Marshall's hand phased straight into Grif's torso—his fingers dissolving through flesh like smoke. Grif twitched violently, a grunt escaping his lips as his body began to glow.
A soft pulse of energy emerged—a glowing feather—tugged from Grif's heart like a soul.
Darling's expression twisted into panic.
"STOP!"
In a blur, he charged forward—slamming his head straight into Marshall's face.
BOOM!!!
Marshall was launched miles away, a flash streaking across the sky like a comet.
As the feather slipped from the air, it fluttered back into Grif's chest, his glow fading gently.
Darling dropped to his knees beside him, frantically checking for a pulse.
It was there—but faint.
"Please… please don't die."
His voice broke.
Tears welled in his eyes, dripping onto the rubble. And then—
From his wrists, golden wraps uncoiled—threaded in ancient texture, as if written with time itself.
They wrapped around Grif's body gently.
WHMMM!
A golden light bloomed—soft, warm, healing.
Grif stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He saw Darling above him, the wraps glowing as they sealed his wounds.
His breath was ragged, but he managed a weak grin.
"You idiot… You're supposed to hurt me, not heal me."
Darling chuckled through tears.
"I'm not like you guys."
He wiped his eyes.
"I thought I… I thought I killed you."
Grif scoffed, his voice hoarse.
"I can't be killed that easily."
Darling sat back, slowly unwrapping the golden bands from around his arms.
He looked down at them, still confused.
Grif sat up, brushing debris off his uniform.
"Where did those come from?"
Darling shrugged.
"I don't know. They just… showed up."
Grif paused.
"You're not as bad as I thought."
But before the moment could settle—
WHAM!!!
Darling's eyes widened—Marshall blurred back in, faster than a blink.
In an instant, Darling was face-to-face with him—then hurled back like a ragdoll.
CRUSH!
A sickening crack echoed through the street.
Darling's spine fractured. His hip dislocated.
"GAAHHHHH!!!"
The pain was blinding.
He gritted his teeth and summoned the wraps again, coiling them tightly around his body, glowing gold—but this time…
Nothing happened.
The pain stayed.
"What the…?"
The wraps pulsed again. Still—nothing.
Darling, shaking, tried to stand. His legs wobbled, but he rose—barely.
Before he could breathe, Grif's body was flung toward him, blood trailing in the air.
Darling dodged just in time.
SCHK!
A spike of steel—impaled clean through his chest.
He gasped, one hand reaching desperately toward Darling.
Then—in a blink—Marshall appeared again.
Now face-to-face. Uncomfortably close.
He grabbed Darling by the collar.
His smile was gone.
"I don't have to hold back, you know."
Marshall looked up and pinched his fingers at something. He winked with his left eye then a giant apartment building appeared on top of them.
~END OF CH 3