The morning sun filtered through the narrow window of Kaito's dorm room, casting long bars of golden light across the stone floor. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, and somewhere in the distance, the academy bells rang to signal the start of a new day.
Kaito sat upright on the edge of his bed, sweat clinging to his brow despite the morning chill.
He had dreamed again—flashes of battles fought in desperation and resolve. Darius's hammer crashing down like a mountain. The howling roar of the Thunder Behemoth splitting the sky. The searing strain of the Echo of Arcanum channeling magic beyond his understanding.
But it wasn't just the fights that haunted him—it was Kain's words.
"It is not just a weapon, Kaito. The Echo remembers. It resonates with power long buried… and with those who dare to awaken it."
Kaito's hand drifted to the sword resting beside his bed, now dormant and still. The blade no longer looked ordinary. Its edge shimmered faintly in the light, as if it pulsed with something alive beneath the metal.
He clenched his jaw.
If someone was using that ripple to hunt me, to test me… I won't be caught off guard again.
He stood, dressed quickly, and fastened the Echo of Arcanum to his back.
Aetherion Academy – The Obsidian Hall
Professor Malric Veilshadow's classroom was nothing like the others.
While most classes were held in bright, rune-lined chambers or open-air pavilions, Malric's domain was dim, shrouded in half-light. Aetherion's students called it The Obsidian Hall—a room of obsidian mirrors, ever-shifting shadows, and disorienting reflections.
Kaito stepped inside, instantly feeling the temperature drop. Candles burned with violet flames, casting long, dancing shadows across the floor. The other students murmured among themselves, their voices hushed.
Then the room fell silent.
From one of the tall mirrors, a figure emerged.
Professor Malric Veilshadow flowed out of the darkness like a phantom, his robe trailing behind him like mist. His silver eyes shimmered as they landed on Kaito for a moment longer than anyone else.
"Welcome," he said, his voice like silk over steel. "Today, we explore what is not there."
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
Instantly, the room plunged into darkness.
No sound. No light. No movement.
Kaito's breath caught. He couldn't even hear the other students.
Then a whisper echoed around him, circling his ears.
"Brute strength can carve a path… but illusions decide what path you see."
Suddenly, light flared. The classroom was as it was before—except now Kaito stood alone in the center, and the other students were standing against the walls, watching. Somehow, he had been moved. Or thought he had.
Professor Veilshadow stood behind him, smiling faintly.
"Lesson one: reality is a story you are told. Magic can rewrite it."
Kaito blinked, heart still racing.
He didn't know it yet, but this class—this strange, quiet man—would change how he understood magic forever.
Malric circled the room with gliding steps, his silver eyes scanning each student with the calm scrutiny of a predator in thought.
"Shadow is not merely absence," he said, his voice curling through the room. "It is memory. Echo. Reflection. It reveals more than it hides, if you know how to listen."
With a wave of his hand, the center of the room darkened again—only this time, it was not empty.
A shadowy figure formed in the middle of the circle. Humanoid in shape, but shifting, like smoke coalescing into form. No face, no sound—just presence.
"Your task is simple," Malric said, turning to the class. "Approach your shadow. Dispel it. Or be devoured by what you fear most."
The other students hesitated, looking at one another nervously.
Kaito stepped forward.
Malric nodded. "Ah. The sword that echoes. Let's see what your shadow says about you."
Kaito faced the figure. It mirrored his stance almost perfectly, like a twisted, flickering version of himself. As he reached for the Echo of Arcanum, the shadow raised a phantom blade of its own—identical, but darker, unstable.
He lunged.
So did the shadow.
Their blades clashed—not with steel, but with sound. A resonant boom vibrated through the chamber, and for a second, Kaito's vision blurred. The figure vanished, reappearing behind him.
It's copying me, Kaito realized, ducking just in time to avoid a phantom slash.
Malric's voice echoed from the edge of the circle, calm and amused. "It only uses what you give it, Kaito. Stop feeding it your fear. Feed it your will."
Kaito gritted his teeth and slowed his breath. He reached inward—not just for strength, but for clarity.
Echo's Command: Wind.
Mana surged into his blade, and with a spin, he unleashed a burst of slicing air. The shadow staggered, its form fraying at the edges.
He pressed the advantage. Temporal Shift.
Time bent slightly—enough to make him faster than the shadow's reaction. In that blink, he slid behind the phantom and plunged his blade through it. Mana surged from the Echo in a resonant hum.
The shadow let out a wail—his own voice, distorted—and vanished into smoke.
Silence.
Then, slow, deliberate clapping from the back of the room.
Malric stepped forward, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
"Well done. You didn't fight it with strength. You outthought it."
Kaito sheathed the Echo, breathing hard.
Another lesson carved into his journey—not by force, but by insight.
"Let that be a reminder," Malric said to the class. "Power is not always in how loud you strike. Sometimes, it's in how quiet you move."
The students took note. But Kaito… Kaito felt it. Something inside him had shifted—subtly, like the way shadows lengthen when no one is watching.
He didn't just feel stronger.
He felt sharper.
A Symphony of Shadows — Training Montage
Kaito's days passed in a blur of dusk and dim corridors, the whisper of footsteps barely echoing off the shadow-veiled walls of Professor Veilshadow's domain.
One moment, he was standing amid conjured illusions—faceless foes conjured by Malric's will, each more cunning than the last.
The next, he was submerged in pure darkness, where the only escape was listening—feeling—for the smallest movement.
Malric never raised his voice. He didn't need to.
"See without seeing."
"Strike without sound."
"Fear not the unknown—become it."
Kaito learned to move between shadows, bending light just enough to mislead the eye. He trained to fight mirages that distorted space and voice alike. Each failed attempt left him gasping, drenched in sweat, pushing himself to the edge.
And each small success sharpened him.
By the second week's end, Kaito could summon a double of himself from shadow, vanish in flickering pulses of light, and weave illusions that confused even his classmates.
The final test came in silence—Malric releasing a barrage of blinding lights and echoing phantasms all around. Kaito didn't flinch. He focused, stepped sideways through a veil of flickering dusk, and reappeared behind the final illusion.
Slash.
The spell shattered.
Malric, from the shadows, simply said, "You are beginning to listen."
That Night — A Flicker Before the Storm
Exhausted and aching, Kaito left the darkened training halls. The moon was just rising above the academy's tallest spires, casting silver light over the cobbled walkways. His steps were heavy, the Echo of Arcanum slung across his back like a silent partner in exhaustion.
He turned the corner toward his dorm—
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the nearby stone wall—sending rubble flying and a gout of red energy flaring out into the courtyard.
Kaito spun and leapt back, drawing his sword instinctively.
From the smoke stepped Liora Venn, a crooked grin splitting his face, twin daggers glowing with crackling crimson arcs.
"You're getting way too comfortable," Liora sneered, tossing a stone up and down in one hand. "Thought I'd remind you who still owns this academy's dueling ground."
"You're insane," Kaito growled. "What if students were nearby?"
"Then maybe they'd learn something."
Liora blurred forward.
Kaito met him halfway, the Echo singing to life in his hand. Sparks flew—metal and mana clashing with brutal intensity. Liora's speed was frightening—his twin daggers danced like twin fangs, and every strike came with a shockwave of mana-enhanced force.
Kaito countered with Arcane Shield, catching a dagger strike—but the second blade raked across his shoulder before he could retreat.
He gritted his teeth, leapt back, and fired a gust of wind to push Liora away.
The courtyard became a battlefield—flashsteps, magical streaks, sparks of energy.
Temporal Shift gave Kaito a brief edge—dodging a slash and landing a blow to Liora's ribs—but Liora laughed, spinning low and sweeping Kaito's legs.
"You've improved, Echo-boy," Liora said, standing over him, panting. "But it's not enough."
And then—
He drew something from beneath his coat.
A crystalline orb, black at the core but pulsing with swirling light and galaxies within.
The VeilHeart.
Kaito's eyes widened. "Where did you get that—?"
Liora gripped it tightly, pressing it against his chest. The artifact merged into his skin, and instantly, his body was surrounded by radiant pulses of arcane force.
His eyes lit up—too brightly. Unnatural.
"Let's see what happens when I stop holding back," Liora said, his voice distorted—twisting with something beyond him.
He moved again—faster, impossibly fast—and struck with such force that Kaito's shield cracked instantly. The second blow hurled him across the courtyard.
Kaito rolled to his feet, bleeding, gasping.
The aura around Liora now churned like a storm. Cracks of red energy sparked across the ground beneath him.
But his grin had faded.
"Why... does it hurt... to breathe?" he whispered, stumbling slightly. His pupils dilated. "I... I feel everything."
Kaito watched, horrified, as Liora's body trembled with barely contained energy.
"You're losing control," Kaito said.
"I—I'm winning!" Liora roared, lunging again. "This is my power! I—!"
CRACK.
The ground split beneath his feet, arcs of dark lightning erupting outward. His scream echoed into the sky.
Kaito raised the Echo of Arcanum again.
The real battle was only just beginning.