Every person in this world was born with a shard of power—a Fractum. No one knew where it came from. Perhaps it was a gift from the gods, or maybe a curse woven into the very fabric of life.
A Fractum awakened a few years after birth. For some, it was simple, almost useless, like the ability to speed up the growth of grass. For others, it was devastating, capable of plunging cities into chaos.
In the Empire of Vordain, a Fractum determined everything: who you would become, what you could achieve, and how long you might live. Those with great power rose to the highest castes and became aristocrats, wielders of fate. Those whose Fractums were weak or useless remained at the bottom of society—artisans, peasants, simple laborers.
And then there were those whose Fractums frightened even the Empire itself. They were called outcasts.
The Elstain Family
Nait Elstain couldn't remember the day his Fractum awakened. It happened when he was just a year old. It was the only recorded case in history of a
Fractum manifesting so early.
That was the day his mother died.
The story had been passed down in their family like a legend. A baby whose cry filled the forge with a sound like the trembling of metal, and a woman who left this world, as though her strength had poured into the child.
From that day onward, Nait was left with his father.
Felix Elstain was a renowned blacksmith on the outskirts of Vordain's capital. His Fractum, known as "Forge Master," granted him incredible talent: he could create weapons and armor that seemed eternal. Even aristocrats traveled to his small forge to commission swords, spears, and cuirasses that neither rusted nor broke.
It seemed as if his work consumed all his time. But Felix always found a moment to speak with his son.
A Quiet Morning
Mornings at the forge always began in silence. Nait sat on the worn porch, watching as the city slowly stirred from its slumber. The familiar scent of coal and metal hung in the air—his father had already lit the forge.
At twelve years old, Nait tried to appear older than he really was.
The first rays of sunlight painted the sky in soft shades of pink and gold. A cool morning mist clung to the cobblestone road that led toward the city center, where the school was located.
"Nait!" a familiar voice called from the forge.
Felix appeared in the doorway. His face, marked by small burns from stray sparks and wrinkles from constant smiles, radiated warmth despite the weariness in his eyes.
"Up with the roosters again?" he asked, sitting beside his son and wiping his hands with a worn towel.
"I like watching the city wake up," Nait replied quietly.
Felix gave a soft smile.
"A romantic, are we?" He ruffled his son's hair. "Though I'm glad you didn't try sneaking into the forge again. Last time, you looked like a chimney sweep."
"Dad, I'm not a kid anymore," Nait said, trying to sound serious, but it only made his father chuckle.
"Of course, of course," Felix laughed warmly. "Heading to school?"
Nait nodded, though a flicker of unease crossed his face.
"Just try to get through today without... incidents," his father said cautiously.
"I'm not looking for trouble," Nait muttered. "But if someone—"
Felix placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder.
"Listen to me carefully: true strength isn't about what you can show. It's about what you can hold back."
He stood, gave Nait's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and returned to the forge, leaving his son alone with the morning sun and his thoughts about the day ahead.
The School on the Outskirts
The school Nait attended sat on the very edge of the Empire's capital. It was a massive building of gray stone, its walls seeming to absorb the cold and weariness of countless rains. Above the main gate loomed the crest of an old aristocratic family, a reminder to every student that even knowledge here bowed to the caste system.
Inside, everything was sharply divided. Aristocratic students, clad in uniforms adorned with gold or silver embroidery, occupied the best seats in class and only interacted with their own. Those from lower standings, like artisans and laborers, stayed in the shadows, careful not to draw unnecessary attention.
This wasn't an elite academy—the true aristocratic institutions were closer to the city's center. But even here on the outskirts, order was strictly maintained. Teachers rarely intervened in conflicts between students, especially if someone from a lower caste dared to defy an aristocrat.
For Nait, it was a daily game of survival.
The Schoolyard
The morning hours were usually quiet. Students gathered in the schoolyard before lessons began—some chatting about recent festivals, others showing off new belongings, while a few tried to blend into conversations with older students.
Nait, as always, stayed on the sidelines. He sat on a bench near one of the side entrances, observing the crowd. He knew that if he drew too much attention to himself, he'd become a target for those looking to amuse themselves.
But staying out of sight didn't save him.
"Elstain!"
The voice rang out like a bell, cutting through the hum of the schoolyard. The crowd fell silent for a moment, turning to locate the source.
It was Randolph.
Randolph—son of a powerful aristocrat whose family owned half the land on the outskirts of the capital. He was always surrounded by a group of sycophantic students who laughed at his jokes and echoed his every word. Taller than most of his peers, with short blond hair and a perpetual smug grin plastered across his face, Randolph radiated entitlement.
"I'm talking to you, blacksmith!" he continued, his voice loud and demanding as he strode toward Nait.
Nait looked up at him calmly.
"What do you want, Randolph?"
Randolph smirked, extending a hand to examine his nails as though the conversation bored him already.
"You're sitting a little too comfortably for someone who doesn't belong here. Nobody invited you. I thought I'd remind you of that."
Nait stood up from the bench. He was slightly shorter than Randolph, but his gaze was unwavering, devoid of fear.
"If you're done, go find someone else to bother so you can feel important."
The crowd around them murmured, some students whispering to one another. No one had ever spoken to Randolph like that.
"What did you just say?" Randolph's smirk vanished, his voice now carrying an edge of menace.
"You heard me."
Randolph stepped closer, his face just inches from Nait's.
"You think you can talk to me like that? You're nothing. You're the son of a blacksmith. You don't even know who you are."
The crowd began to form a circle around them, eager to witness the confrontation. A few stifled nervous laughs, but no one intervened.
"And you," Nait replied, locking eyes with Randolph, "only know what your ancestors told you. You're nothing on your own."
That was the final blow.
"You…" Randolph snarled, shoving Nait hard in the chest with both hands.
The Awakening of Darkness
Nait stumbled back, but in that moment, something shifted.
The air around them grew heavier. The shadows cast by the school's tall walls suddenly began to stir. They slithered toward Nait's feet, pooling together like dark liquid, writhing as though alive.
The crowd fell silent instantly.
"What the…" Randolph began, but he didn't finish.
From the shadows, tendrils emerged—long, dark, snaking lines that wrapped around Randolph's legs like chains, pulling him downward.
"What is this?!" Randolph yelled, struggling to free himself, but his feet seemed glued to the ground.
The crowd recoiled in shock. No one understood what was happening.
The tendrils climbed higher, curling around his knees. Panic filled Randolph's face.
"Elstain, stop this!" he screamed.
But Nait didn't move. His eyes had turned cold, his expression eerily blank. He wasn't in control of what was happening. This was something beyond him, something primal, awakening without his consent.
The black tendrils continued to rise, as though intent on consuming Randolph entirely.
"Hey! That's enough!" one of Randolph's friends stepped forward but quickly retreated when the shadows reached out toward him.
"Help me!" Randolph shouted, his voice breaking, but no one moved.
The dark tendrils began to tighten around his body, coiling like snakes, squeezing as if to crush him.
The Arrival of Zein
"Well, well, what kind of show do we have here?"
The voice came from the crowd. It was light, almost mocking, as though the speaker couldn't care less about the chaos unfolding before him.
The crowd began to part. From its center emerged Zein.
He looked like he'd just come back from a celebration where his sole purpose was to leave an impression. His white hair fell in messy strands across his face, and his bright red eyes gleamed like molten metal, despite the easy smirk on his lips. His school uniform was slightly unbuttoned, his tie hung crookedly, and his black blazer was draped over his shoulders more for appearance than out of respect for the dress code.
He was strikingly handsome, but his demeanor was carefree, almost insolent.
Zein glanced at Randolph, who was still screaming, his legs trapped in thick, writhing shadows, his face twisted in terror. Then, he turned to Nait.
"You know, Nait, I get that this is probably fun for you, but could you at least give us a warning next time before summoning some dark gods for a mass ritual?"
Nait looked at Zein. His gaze was still cold, but something clicked inside him. He exhaled slightly, as if his mind had finally returned to the present.
"I didn't…" he started, but Zein raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Yeah, yeah, you didn't mean to. It just happened. Classic Nait Elstain. Your power does its thing, and you're just an extra in its story."
Zein stepped up beside Nait, slipping his hands into his pockets. His eyes flicked back to Randolph, who was thrashing and gasping, unable to free himself.
"Alright, buddy, let him go before he ruins my day with his hysterics."
The shadows trembled. As though resisting, they tightened once more around Randolph before finally beginning to retreat.
The black, viscous energy slithered back into the ground, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Randolph collapsed onto the dirt, gasping for air like a man who had nearly drowned. His eyes were wide, his face pale, and his legs shook as he struggled to stand.
Zein looked down at him, unimpressed, then turned back to Nait.
"Honestly, you could at least do it with a bit of flair. Add some drama, you know? It's a show, after all!"
"Are you even serious right now?" Nait said quietly, frowning.
"I'm always serious when it comes to a spectacle," Zein replied, flashing a sharp grin.
He clapped Nait on the shoulder as if congratulating him for some grand victory.
"Alright, let's go. Pizza's waiting. And this," he nodded toward Randolph, who was still sitting on the ground, trembling, "can stay as a souvenir. I hope he learned a valuable lesson: never mess with a shard that's bigger than you."
The Crowd's Reaction
Randolph managed to get to his feet. The crowd hadn't yet dispersed, but now their gazes toward Nait were entirely different. Fear and distrust lingered in their eyes.
"You…" Randolph croaked, pointing a trembling finger at Nait. "You're a monster."
Nait opened his mouth to reply, but Zein cut in once again.
"A monster? Oh, come on. What you just saw was a masterpiece."
His voice carried a mocking edge, but it was enough to break the tension. The crowd began to murmur, and slowly, people started to drift away, eager to avoid getting involved in the strange incident.
Randolph staggered off, his friends hurrying after him. But before he left, his eyes locked with Nait's.
"I'll remember this, Elstain," he hissed.
Zein, overhearing, chuckled.
"And I've already forgotten who you are."
Randolph said nothing, disappearing into the dispersing crowd.
After the Conflict
As the crowd began to disperse, Nait turned to Zein.
"You could've helped me earlier."
"Why? You handled it perfectly. Now the whole yard is terrified of you, and as your friend, I just got a little cooler by association."
Zein said it so nonchalantly that Nait couldn't help but let out a short chuckle.
"You're insane."
"Of course. But I'm your insane friend."
He clapped Nait on the shoulder.
"Come on, pizza's waiting. And you better not say no, or I'll be offended."
Nait smirked and nodded, following him.
The school cafeteria was filled with the warm aroma of fresh dough and melted cheese. Despite the usual noise of chattering students and clattering dishes, the atmosphere felt tense. Every time Nait and Zein passed a group of students, the conversations died down, as if everyone suddenly remembered they had something more important to do.
Nait, used to such stares, walked forward in silence. Zein, however, strolled along with exaggerated confidence, scanning the food counters with a look of utmost importance.
"Ah, behold! Pizza!" he announced loudly enough for the cafeteria worker to glance up in surprise. "I see mushrooms, I see meat… This is destiny."
"Just grab something," Nait muttered, heading to the nearest free table in the corner.
"Hey, you don't understand the importance of choice," Zein continued, unhurried. "You, for example, are obviously a meat person. But if I pick mushrooms, it'll create harmony. Balance your brooding energy, you know?"
"Get both. If that's your style, you won't even finish half."
Zein grinned, snatched up two boxes, and joined Nait.
They settled at a table by the window. Zein, barely sitting down, propped his feet on a nearby chair, while Nait leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. The adrenaline from the earlier conflict still buzzed faintly inside him, but he didn't let it show.
"Now ask yourself the big question, Nait," Zein said, opening a pizza box. "What's it like to become a local legend?"
"What are you talking about?" Nait replied lazily, grabbing a slice.
"You just wowed the whole yard. I bet they haven't even come up with a name for your new alter ego yet, but something like 'Master of Shadows' will probably stick."
"You're insane."
"Tell that to the guy who almost drowned in your black goo."
"He's alive."
"For now." Zein smirked, taking a huge bite. "But you're missing the bigger picture, Nait. That guy's not going to forget what you did. Neither will his dad in the Senate."
"Let them try something."
"I get your confidence, but here's the thing—they won't fight fair. People like that don't solve problems directly. They just get rid of what bothers them."
Nait looked up and met Zein's gaze.
"So, what do you suggest?"
"What do I suggest? Hm…" Zein pretended to think deeply, then with a straight face said, "Just live your life and remember, I'll always be around. Worst-case scenario, we run off to the edge of the world. Or the mountains. I hear they have some lovely quiet spots where no one will notice your creepy shadow tricks."
Nait smirked.
"You really are insane."
"Probably. But that's why you put up with me, isn't it?" Zein replied with a wink, grabbing another slice.
By the time they finished, the cafeteria had nearly emptied. Only a few students lingered at a distant table, and the warm scent of baked dough still lingered in the air.
"Alright," Zein said, stretching lazily. "I've got to head the other way, but try not to get into another incident before tomorrow, alright? Can you go one day without someone wanting to kill you?"
"The dark stuff finds me," Nait quipped.
"Fair enough," Zein shrugged, turning toward the door. "If something happens, you know where to find me."
He left with a light smile, disappearing into the gathering dusk.
Nait was alone again.
The sun had set by the time he made his way home. The streets were deserted, the houses silhouetted against the darkening sky. The streetlights cast long shadows that slithered across the cobblestones like living things.
The night felt quieter than usual.
Nait walked at an even pace, his mind lingering on Zein's words. On how Randolph and his father might go further than empty threats. On how his Fractum had become not only dangerous to others but to himself as well.
A faint unease stirred within him.
The shadow behind him seemed longer than it should have been.
He turned around. No one.
Maybe it was just his imagination.
A few more steps.
But something wasn't right. The air felt thicker, almost sticky. The sensation of being watched crept over him.
He turned again, his eyes scanning the empty street. This time, he saw it—a dark figure standing at the far corner, barely visible in the dim light.
"Who's there?" His voice came out sharper than he intended.
The figure didn't respond. It took one step forward, then another.
And then it vanished.
Nait froze. The air around him grew heavier, clinging to him like an invisible shroud.
He didn't even have time to react before something shot out from a side shadow. It moved fast, like a bullet. A dark hand grabbed his shoulder, yanking him forward with such force that he lost his balance.
Pain flared in his temple as he hit the cobblestones. Everything happened in an instant.
The dark figure loomed over him. Its face was covered by a mask, hiding all but a pair of glowing yellow eyes.
"You don't even know what you are," a low voice hissed.
And in the next moment, a sharp, cutting sound split the air..