Three months had passed. Seren moved like a phantom through the ordinary world, his every step no longer burdened by hesitation. He had reached the realm of the Shadow Wraith—a being whispered about in old forgotten texts, where the shadow becomes more than an extension. It breathes. It whispers. It chooses.
Seren was now in complete control of his abilities. Each breath synchronized with his power, each movement calculated with predatory calm. The world, still blind to the deeper layers beneath its surface, kept spinning in ignorance. But he could see now. Layers peeled. Truths unveiled.
Yet today, his attention shifted.
A nameless orphan had entered his peripheral. A boy who lived in the cracks of society, silent, almost invisible. Seren had watched him before—always quiet, always alone, enduring the cruelty of the world with the discipline of a soldier and the expression of a ghost.
He had no name. No family. No record. A ghost among mortals.
But Seren had sensed something in him—the faint echo of awakening. It had been a month since the signs began to emerge. The boy didn't speak of it. He didn't understand it yet, but Seren did.
Abyssborn.
Even if the boy didn't know what that meant, Seren did. He saw it in the boy's eyes—the storm hidden behind passive silence. A path as dark and heavy as the stars that died screaming.
---
Today was different.
The boy stood in the school yard, cornered by twelve others. Bigger, louder, crueler. These weren't just taunts. They were fists. Kicks. Laughter that echoed too loud. No one stopped them. No one ever did.
He was being beaten again.
He didn't scream. He didn't cry. Blood trickled from his nose, his lips split open. He fell to the ground and curled slightly, not in defense, but in containment. As if he was keeping something in.
Seren watched from the rooftop.
His shadow flickered beneath him like a living entity. It was calm.
"He endures," Shadow murmured within his mind.
"He bleeds but doesn't call. A storm in chains."
Seren moved.
Not fast. Not furious. Just... calm.
The bullies hadn't noticed him yet. They were too focused. One of them lifted a broken wooden stick and raised it above the boy's exposed ribs.
Too far.
Seren landed between them with silence sharper than a scream. His shoes touched the ground like a bell tolling death.
The boy looked up, blood veiling one eye. What he saw was not a student. Not a savior.
An angel carved in dusk.
The leader of the bullies turned, annoyed. "Who the hell are y—"
His sentence never finished.
A fist met his jaw, dislocating it mid-word. His body flew backward like a puppet cut from strings. The others backed up, confusion crashing into panic.
"You want to play gods in a world you don't understand," Seren said, voice cold, empty.
They rushed him all at once.
Seren smiled faintly.
What followed wasn't a fight. It was an unraveling.
Fists shattered ribs. Elbows cracked spines. A knee shattered someone's nose with such force they spun midair.
Blood sprayed like ink across pavement.
Yet Seren didn't lose composure. Not once.
He fought like wind and shadow, flowing through them with graceful cruelty. Each strike was surgical. Every dodge an insult.
The orphan boy watched, eyes wide. His heart thudded wildly in his chest. He had seen violence. Lived it.
But this... this was something else.
Seren moved like he belonged to the chaos. As if he hadn't stepped in to help, but to deliver. There was no hesitation. No anger. No joy. Only cold, deliberate motion.
A quiet dominance that silenced the air.
Within seconds, bodies lay scattered. Some groaned. Some didn't move.
Seren stood amidst the wreckage, barely a scratch on him.
He turned.
Their eyes met.
The orphan still didn't speak. Not even a thank you. But in that silence, Seren heard everything. The boy's blood-soaked fingers clenched tightly. His breathing was uneven.
Fear. Hope. Recognition.
Seren walked up to him, knelt, and held out a hand.
"You don't have to be alone in this."
The orphan stared.
"I know what you are," Seren whispered. "Even if you don't yet."
He didn't take the hand. He didn't need to. The connection was already made. Seren stood again.
Shadow spoke softly in Seren's mind.
"The stars that drown burn the brightest beneath the tide."
Seren walked away.
Behind him, a boy sat in silence.
Alive.
And changing.