"Or else… what?"
Every head snapped up, eyes darting toward the balcony.
There sat Alaric Kael Drakonis.
Vesper's gaze locked onto Alaric's. He had never met Alaric in person, but he knew exactly who he was.
"Oh my…" Vesper's voice was smooth, almost lazy, yet dripping with amusement. "Isn't this the crazy dog of House Drakonis?"
A single sentence was all it took to send ripple of dread passed through the ground like a sudden chill.
Crazy Dog.
The title alone sent a shudder through out the ground. They all had heard the stories—the rumors, the whispers that painted Alaric as something beyond human. A beast clothed in noble silk. The youngest scion of House Drakonis, a house already feared for its brutality, yet somehow, Alaric had become a legend even among them.
He wasn't just cruel; he was cruel without reason. Madness without method. A tyrant with no kingdom but the suffering he inflicted.
They said he tortured his own shadow when there was nothing else to break.
They said he once drowned a servant for spilling his tea, then laughed as he ordered another to clean the mess.
They said he had no regard for life—not his own, not anyone else's.
And now…
That very same monster was watching them from above.
Alaric's gaze flickered across the combat ring, cold and unfeeling, before settling on Vesper.
Their eyes met.
Then, without a word, Alaric's gaze moved past him.
As if he wasn't even worth looking at.
Vesper's jaw clenched.
'The audacity. Did that little bastard just ignore me?'
A spark of irritation flared in his chest, but before he could act on it, Alaric's focus shifted again.
A slow, deliberate glance.
This time, his eyes settled on Nyx.
But only for a moment before his attention drifted again, this time to the mage restraining Nyx with magic.
Then—
A low, guttural growl rumbled from Alaric's throat. It was an eerie, primal sound, thick with unspoken threat.
"You lowly sack of shit," Alaric said, his voice almost lazy, yet carrying the weight of absolute authority.
"How dare you touch my plaything?"
The mage body stiffened, and he quickly withdrew his magic, and his head dipped in a quick, shallow bow.
"This servant greets the young master."
Alaric's eyes narrowed. The mage hadn't bowed properly.
His fingers twitched.
"Disrespectful filth."
Then—
Alaric moved.
He stood on the balcony railing, balancing with effortless ease.
And then—he leapt.
His body twisted midair as he landed on the branch of a nearby tree, his movements quick and precise.
Aster's voice hummed in Alaric's mind, dry as ever.
[Oh, brilliant move. If you were trying to keep a low profile, congratulations—you've failed spectacularly.]
Alaric scoffed, stepping onto the next branch.
'Shut up, you scrap heap.'
Aster sighed, exaggerated and theatrical.
[That'll definitely raise your IQ. Now tell me, what's your plan, when your enemies start wondering why the 'crazy dog' of Drakonis suddenly grew a conscience?]
Alaric's fingers curled around the bark as he moved down another branch. He descended swiftly, his boots landing lightly on each limb.
'Just wait and watch.'
Aster's tone sharpened.
[What are you up to?]
Alaric jumped down to the final branch, gripping it tightly before swinging himself off. He landed in a low crouch, dirt kicking up around his boots before he straightened, rolling his shoulders. His sharp gaze locked onto the ring where Nyx still stood, stiff and waiting. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
'Just playing crazy as usual.'
The rumors alone were enough to unnerve the crowd when Alaric stepped into the ring, and they knew—
The crazy dog was about to bite.
Vesper's sharp eyes locked onto Alaric. But before he could speak, Alaric brushed past him without a glance, stopping in front of the mage. His voice was a low, dangerous growl.
"Kneel."
The mage swallowed hard, darting glances on the ground.
Alaric growled again.
"You lowly insect. Kneel."
The mage stiffened. His gaze darted around, searching for an escape, but there was none. He swallowed hard, taking two small steps back before bowing deeply.
"Forgive me, young master… but I can't do that."
Alaric blinked once. Then, he smiled—a slow, eerie stretch of lips that sent a chill down the mage's spine.
Then—he laughed.
A sharp, jagged laugh that sent the air rippling with unease.
"Oh? You can't?" He tilted his head, mock curiosity in his voice. "Did something happen to your legs? Should I break them so you have no choice?"
The mage flinched.
"This filth…" Alaric's tone darkened, his fingers flexing. "I should just kill you."
He took a step forward, but before he could close the distance, Vesper stepped between them, his posture firm.
"You little—why should my shadow kneel before you?"
His gaze snapped to Vesper. "Shut up, you lowly shit. I wasn't talking to you."
Vesper's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching. "You—"
Alaric ignored him, turning back to the mage. "You better kneel or else—."
The mage hesitated, then bowed his head. "Forgive me, young master but a shadow only bows to their master."
Alaric chuckled lowly.
"I see." A pause. Then—his gaze flicked to Nyx.
And he moved.
Fast.
A sharp crack rang through the air as his palm met Nyx's cheek.
The force snapped Nyx's head to the side. A bright red imprint bloomed on his skin.
But he didn't flinch. Didn't move.
Alaric's eyes were ice-cold, his voice smooth yet laced with mockery.
"Then tell me—why were you kneeling before another?"
Silence.
Then—another slap. Harder.
"You are my shadow, my plaything, then why were you kneeling to him?"
The sound echoed through the ring, sharp as a whip.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some flinched. Others stiffened, their breaths caught in their throats.
The trainers exchanged uneasy glances, their shock evident.
The boy they had trained with every morning and evening for three years—the one who had claimed to be nothing more than a loyal servant of House Dracknois—wasn't just a servant.
He was a shadow.
A shadow was not a mere servant; they were an extension of their master's will. Their sword in battle. Their shield is in danger. Their very existence was bound to one person, a loyalty so absolute it became their purpose.
For another to command them—no, even to touch them—was an unforgivable sin.
To harm a shadow was to strike at their master.
To force a shadow to kneel was to humiliate them.
And to kill or hurt a shadow… was to declare war.
Vesper stood frozen, his mind racing.
He had just made a foolish mistake. No—before that, he had broken a rule.
The succession fight wasn't supposed to begin until they entered the academy.
Until then, harming a successor—or causing a fight—was strictly forbidden.
Breaking that rule meant consequences. Severe ones. The kind that not even House Dracknois could ignore.
And yet—
Vesper had just hurt a shadow.
Even if it wasn't intentional.
He'd broken the rules.
Then, suddenly something caught his attention.
His gaze flicked back to Nyx, who stood silently, enduring Alaric's curses.
'Why hadn't he said anything?'
'Why hadn't he revealed that he was Alaric's shadow?'
Vesper's jaw tightened.
'I was about to cripple him. Break his hand. Yet, he never spoke.'
'If he had just opened his mouth and said he was a shadow—I would have stopped. I wouldn't have—'
Vesper's eyes rested on Nyx, who was writhing under Alaric's curse—yet, despite the pain, a glint of satisfaction flickered in his gaze.
And in that moment, realization struck—he was being trapped.
Nyx had hidden his status on purpose.
Vesper's breath hitched as the truth settled in.
'That bastard had set a trap.'
If Vesper had gone through with it—if he had crippled Nyx—he would've paid a heavy price. A price worse than just a slap on the wrist.
He could've been stripped of his rights.
His claim to the succession.
All because of one silent, unassuming shadow.
Four years ago, everyone mocked Alaric for choosing an orphan—a weak, skill-less child—as his shadow.
But?
That shadow wasn't just strong. He was dangerous and calculative.
Vesper chuckled, shaking his head.
'Now, I want him.'
Nyx was too talented to remain in the shadows for long. Sooner or later, someone would recognize his worth.
Before any of his elder cousins caught wind of Nyx's potential—they had the chance to lay their greedy eyes on him—Vesper had to take him for himself.