When the morning mist had not yet dissipated, Blackie had already arrived at the magic locomotive station. Today was the day when magical academies across the land would be receiving their new students.
Though since the day of "Destiny," she had received no news at all — not even an acceptance letter or an academy crest, let alone a proper report.
Yet a sliver of hope still lingered in her heart. Those who had submerged themselves in despair for too long would, when the dawn of life reappeared, grasp even the faintest light with all their might.
Blackie found a long bench in the corner and leaned against it at an angle. This position, wedged between the lampshade and the trash can, allowed her to clearly see every train door opening, while the tattered advertising banners conveniently concealed half of her body.
The morning mist had not yet lifted, but the bronze gears of the first magic locomotive had already shattered through the fog. The moment the brass gate slid open, the copper whistle of the registrar pierced the air —
"Student number A-12!"
"Here!"
The girl with a beret smiled as she responded, her braid sweeping past Blackie's cheek. Watching the girl's bright smile, Blackie instinctively shrank back into the shadows. When she came to her senses, she pulled out a bitter smile.
[This habit needs to be changed, too.]
After an indeterminate period of time, the tracks continued to transmit regular tremors as train after train departed with students. Blackie stared at her shoe tips, watching a half-leaf of ginkgo tree stuck in the cracks of the platform tiles.
Only she remained waiting for a long time, listening to the commotion, watching the chaos, from dawn until dusk. Only when the crowd had dispersed did she finally emerge from the shadows, finally sitting on the bench, her body slightly curled as if trying to hide herself within the remaining light of dusk.
At this moment, the last batch of magic locomotives was exhaling steam as they headed toward the distance. Blackie leaned against the faded wrought-iron bench, watching the magic crests on the uniforms of her classmates flash past her eyes — fire wax red, starlight silver, arcane blue. The energetic students looked like a swarm of shimmering butterflies flying away.
By the way, she had always wanted to own her own academy crest. As a child, she had pinned small flowers and doodles together on her chest, and that self-made crest she never brought herself to throw it away
"The man at the testing field was definitely lying." She laughed softly at the air, exhaled deeply, and slowly stood up, patting the dust off her bottom, preparing to leave.
Blackie left the station, heading home with a pang of sorrow in her heart. The dusk was like a layer of un-dried oil painting, stretching her shadow long and thin, as if it could be swallowed by the night at any moment. She kept her head down, her steps unsteady, like an injured tawny owl, eager only to return to the narrow yet warm rented room.
As the sky darkened, the dusk turned to ink. She walked through the familiar alley, everything seeming the same yet somehow different. Her brow furrowed slightly, her heart churning with emotions too complex to name — a riddle unsolved, a dream long forgotten. Instinctively, she turned a corner, and suddenly a pitch-black curtain unfolded in the air, like nightfall descending, swallowing everything around her. Blackie's vision was consumed by the darkness.
[An oppressive silence]
When she opened her eyes again, the world had changed. She stood in a deep, ancient forest, where towering trees with interwoven branches whispered forgotten secrets. A damp, mysterious air filled the atmosphere, as though she had crossed through time into another world.
"What... what's happening?" she murmured, her voice echoing through the forest, met only by silence. Her heart quickened, her mind flooded with questions — how could this be? She had remembered being on that familiar street, not here in this strange forest?
As she pondered, she suddenly heard soft yet rhythmic footsteps, like snow falling on stone, like moonlight shattering in the night wind — gentle yet mysterious. She froze, her heartbeat skipping a beat, instinctively stepping back as her eyes narrowed toward the source.
The forest was deathly still, save for the footsteps. She held her breath, trying to track their path, only to hear them drawing closer — like an invisible shadow advancing step by step.
"In this shadow, you see nothing... and nowhere to escape."
A deep, magnetic male voice echoed through the forest, like the whisper of night wind through dry leaves, like an echo from a forgotten dream, carrying an irresistible allure.
The approaching shadow wore a pitch-black cloak, its hem rippling in the night wind like a phantom in the darkness. Half his face was concealed by a finely crafted owl mask, while the other side revealed a young man's features — pale skin, sharp cheekbones, long silver hair dancing in the night wind like threads of moonlight, gleaming with cold brilliance.
"Blackie of Crowsight, isn't it?"
His voice was deep and magnetic, like the whisper of night wind. Blackie's breath hitched, instinctively stepping back.
"Y-You... who are you?"
She asked cautiously, her voice weak as flickering candlelight.
"That doesn't matter."
The man's lips curled slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He slowly raised his hand, a dark blade forming in the air like Death's scythe, carrying a suffocating chill.
"The protagonist now... is you."
No sooner had he spoken than the dark blade shot forward like a venomous snake, aimed straight at her throat!
Blackie almost instinctively rolled away, her body tracing an arc through the night like a shadow. However, the blade's shockwave followed, tearing through the air like Death's sigh, rushing toward her. The shockwave struck a nearby locust tree, splitting it in two, branches and splinters raining down like a storm.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, the sounds of her heartbeat, the wind, and the sonic boom weaving into a suffocating symphony. The man's attacks came one after another, his movements as light as a shadow, each strike like a dance — elegant yet deadly.
"Who the hell are you?!"
She shouted, her voice trembling.
"Ask who I am... when you don't even understand yourself, isn't it?"
The man's lips curved into a meaningful smile, as though he had already seen through her.
Blackie's forehead was drenched in cold sweat, tears sliding down her face, dripping onto her tense shoulders, icy like frost. She had no time to breathe, only dodging, rolling, evading, as if playing a cruel game with Death.
Her body was already exhausted, her muscles like torn fabric, every nerve stretched to its limit. Yet she had no choice but to keep running, dodging, responding. Her legs trembled, her heartbeat almost bursting from her chest.
Then came another dark blade, slicing through the air toward her face. Instinctively, she sidestepped, but the attack still grazed her cheek, pulling a strand of hair.
Blackie's pupils contracted sharply. At the moment of death, memories surged like a tidal wave. She saw her childhood loneliness, the eyes of misunderstanding, the people and events that left scars in her heart.
"Every time... it's always me who gets these bad luck..." Her voice was low and raspy, as if she had swallowed glass shards, filled with an indescribable exhaustion and anger.
Her vision blurred, emotions roared like a storm. In that instant, a black energy rose from her chest like ink, wrapping her in a shadowy mist.
Her heartbeat was almost inaudible, her voice almost swallowed by the shadows. Yet the dark blade flying toward her suddenly shattered like falling into an abyss — disintegrating, vanishing.
A black aura surrounded Blackie, her hairpin falling during the battle. Her long hair, black as crows' feathers, floated slightly in the night. She moved slowly, expressionless, as if her consciousness had sunk into the darkness, becoming part of it.
"Every time..." Her voice became hollow, yet carried an unsettling authority, not her own, but an echo from another world.
"Not only magic... can it also swallow consciousness?" The man's eyes flickered with surprise and interest, "Fascinating... this is quite rare." A meaningful smile curled at his lips.
Blackie's figure moved like a ghost in the night, her movements no longer controlled by herself but by a deeper force. She threw a punch, her fist radiating distorted black light, not a physical entity but carrying an eerie pressure, tearing tiny space cracks in the air.
The man did not evade. Instead, he extended his hand and gently pushed forward, a dark orb of light forming in his palm. The contorted sphere seemed to contain countless tiny shadowy figures writhing within, expanding as it advanced.
The black sphere collided violently with the invisible shockwave in midair, emitting a screeching explosion that felt as if the heavens and earth had been torn apart. Light radiated in all directions, completely shattering the night in this confrontation.
Blackie's pupils remained pitch-black, like an eternal abyss that never closed, as if her soul had already fused with some unknown power. Suddenly, she surged forward, no longer fearing, struggling, or hesitating. Each movement seemed to pull at the cracks in the sky, black aura swirling around her like living entities — both an externalization of her emotions and an extension of her soul.
The man suddenly pressed his hands to the ground. A deep, heart-shattering tremor erupted from beneath. Where his palms touched, the soil writhed like a living creature, collapsing downward to form a deep, swirling black vortex.
That vortex seemed to connect to the netherworld, thick as ink, radiating a bone-chilling cold. Soon after, several distorted "shadows" silently emerged from it.
They had no clear facial features, their forms flickering between reality and illusion, like grotesque silhouettes forcibly stretched. They moved without footsteps, only the faintest friction against the air, carrying an inhuman sense of horror. These shadows, like sharks sensing blood, instantly accelerated, transforming into dark arrows that tore through the moonlight, directly charging at Blackie!
Cold air struck first, almost freezing human marrow. The two leading shadows extended claw-like fingers, tendrils of black mist swirling around their tips. They were about to reach Blackie's throat and chest! At that critical moment!
Blackie moved, not retreating, not blocking, but unexpectedly - turning! Her figure was like lightning, twisting her waist and hips, her right leg slicing through the air with a piercing scream, delivering a powerful kick to a nearby ancient tree!
"Boom!" A muffled sound echoed, the tree shuddered violently, leaves falling like rain. A massive counterforce surged through her, Blackie used the momentum to leap into the air, completing a perfect double jump! For a brief moment, she hovered in mid-air, her black hoodie billowing, like a nimble night owl.
[The moonlight outlined the taut lines of her legs]
First kick! Her left leg lashed out like a whip, precisely striking the neck of the first shadow that had approached directly beneath her! No scream, only a grating "crack!" as the shadow's head twisted grotesquely, its entire form instantly disintegrating into a few wisps of black smoke.
Second kick! Blackie's right leg didn't stop, using the downward momentum and the explosive power from her waist and core, drawing a sharp half-arc in the air. Her heel struck the same spot on the second shadow, a clear sound "kaboom!" echoed, the second shadow followed the first, disintegrating silently.
Blackie landed lightly, her feet sinking into the soft soil with almost no dust raised. However, the attack didn't stop! A third shadow seized the moment she landed, carried by a cold wind, rushing to her side, its clawed hands reaching for her ribs!
Blackie's eyes remained as black as ink, the darkness within her seemed to have devoured her soul, leaving only a wild, instinctive shell. As she landed, her foot tip spun cleverly, her entire body as if pulled by an invisible rope, suddenly spinning on the spot! Her right leg, fueled by the enormous centrifugal force from the spin, transformed into a black blade, slicing outward!
"Woo—"! The wind howled!
This fierce spinning kick struck the third shadow's waist! No flying flesh, but the shadow's waist was torn apart by an invisible force, its upper half and lower half twisted and separated at the moment of contact, immediately disintegrating into a swirling black mist.
[The wind didn't subside, sweeping up the fallen leaves, scattering them in a vortex.]
Blackie's momentum from the spinning kick hadn't yet dissipated—her hem still fluttering in the wind. Yet the abyssal vortex, as if fueled by endless malice and patience, erupted with two more shadows! They flanked her from left and right, their skeletal fingers glinting with ghostly light, piercing directly at her exposed back and neck. The timing was diabolically precise—striking at the most vulnerable blind spots of the human body.
The icy intent pierced her spine like needles of solidified cold. The freezing chill from behind and the faint whistling of the air became the clearest death omen.
Blackie forcibly twisted her center of gravity, her left foot slamming into the ground to anchor her stance. Her body leaned forward with the force of inertia.
Just as the forward momentum began to wane—her waist and abdomen surged with explosive power, twisting violently! Using her left heel as an axis, her entire body spun like a tornado, a whirlwind of motion!
As she rotated, her right leg, still airborne, seized the momentum and lashed out in a blur of black silhouette, slicing through the air with savage precision and sweeping from behind toward the ground!
"Boom!" A muffled, thunderous sound like a heavy hammer striking rotting wood erupted!
The two stealthy shadows, having closed the distance to within three paces of Blackie's back, were instantly struck by this savage spinning kick. Their "legs" shattered like fragile glass in an instant, their forms violently thrown into the air as they twisted and disintegrated, emitting silent screams before dissolving into two dense plumes of black smoke that rapidly vanished into the oppressive night.
The man did not retreat. Instead, he slightly lifted his lips, as if expecting something. He softly chanted, his voice like a whisper from a distant dream: "Come... let's see who's shadow you really are."
Blackie gave no response. Her footsteps halted five paces from the man, and in the next instant, she materialized like a phantom behind him.
She extended her left hand, her fingers curling like claws, the tips glowing with black light as they lunged for the man's neck. The man reacted almost instantly, twisting his body with the grace of a leaf in the wind to evade the strike. But Blackie was faster—her right leg swept outward, tearing through the air with a screech aimed directly at his waist.
The man crossed his palms in front of him, absorbing the impact with a grunt. Though he was forced back half a step, a thread of blood trickled from his mouth. "Hmph… astonishing," he wiped the blood from his lips, his voice laced with excitement, "to be able to subdue me with mere strength?"
Before his words could settle, Blackie's form reappeared like a phantom. Her right fist coiled with pitch-black magic, as if the night sky had split open, pouring forth death and fury. The air twisted and screamed as the punch passed through it.
But the man's form suddenly became unstable within the interplay of moonlight and shadows. He was like a drop of ink falling into water, his edges instantly blurring and dissolving into countless tiny, writhing black particles! These particles didn't disperse—instead, they surged into the ground beneath his feet like living things.
Gurg…!
Where he had stood, the abyssal vortex surged with violent life, boiling and expanding! It hungrily devoured everything around it—soil, stones, moonlight, even the air itself seemed to be dragged downward.
Its expansion was terrifyingly rapid. In an instant, the ground where Blackie stood, along with several feet around it, was entirely consumed by this viscous, bottomless darkness!
Countless arms formed from shadow erupted from the viscous abyss. Their forms were contorted, unnaturally rigid and eerie, like decayed tree roots emerging from a swamp, carrying the bone-chilling cold and swiftly entwining upward.
The first layer of arms, like black serpents, seized her ankles! The icy, slick, suction-cup-like grip pierced through her canvas shoes, directly attacking her marrow! Then the second layer climbed up, locking tightly around her knees and thighs!
Third, fourth… countless arms like hellish vines layered upon each other, wildly entwining and tightening! They gripped her waist, constricted her arms, even some thick, spiky shadow arms coiled around her neck like nooses!
Tremendous forces from all directions threatened to snap her bones! The bone-chilling cold mercilessly eroded her body temperature and will, making every breath an agonizing struggle. She was like a moth trapped in a spiderweb, instantly ensnared within the ever-morphing horror of shadow arms, suspended above the abyss.
Right when she was struggling desperately, trying to gather strength to break free from this disgusting restraint…
A dense darkness coalesced behind her, rapidly shaping! The man's form, like a silent emergence from hell's ink pool, clearly outlined, carrying even more oppressive presence, standing firmly atop the rising shadow arms.
He looked down from above, gazing at the bound Blackie, who was suspended above the abyss like an offering. His icy fingers, even with a hint of appreciation, lightly brushed Blackie's forehead, where sweat had already formed from suffocation and pain, leaving a trail of bone-chilling cold.
"You're indeed… quite interesting, little girl." His voice was low and smooth, carrying a feline amusement, but the smile on his lips was cold with no warmth, "Unfortunately… still not enough."
As his words fell, the hand hovering above Blackie's head made a graceful, careless sweep through the air. A blade purely composed of "lightlessness" materialized silently above Blackie's head, floating like the sword of Damocles hanging over a fate's balance, its tip directly pointing at her forehead. A pure, annihilating aura spread from it, making the shadow arms entwining Blackie tremble slightly in fear, tightening their grip even more.
The man seemed to relish this absolute sense of control, tilting his head slightly as if admiring a nearly completed artwork. The blade moved, not with violent slashing but with a slow, heavy, judgment-like motion, silently pressing downward toward Blackie's forehead, inch by inch!
The air groaned under the oppressive darkness, the shadow of death, cold and clear, descending. Time stretched into eternity.
[A silent dead silence]
[Silent dead silence]
[Dead silence]
...