Chapter 28: Obsidian Eyes
Night fell over the outskirts of Starcrest City with the kind of stillness that made even the wind hesitate.
Shadows stretched unnaturally along the rooftops, weaving into one another until the cityscape became a pattern of dark silhouettes.
From the ruins beyond the city walls, a figure emerged, tall, composed, and hidden beneath a flowing black cloak. One by one, other shapes followed, their movements synchronized, each step careful and precise.
"The new System user has appeared," said a voice, low and deliberate, cutting through the silence like a dagger. Every member of the Obsidian Order froze, heads tilting slightly, acknowledging the gravity of the statement.
"We cannot allow him to grow," another voice answered, calm yet cold, carrying the weight of authority. The leader stepped forward, hands clasped behind the back, eyes scanning the city below. A thin, cruel smile curved their lips. "He represents what we cannot tolerate: adaptability, evolution, power unchecked."
The night air seemed to bend around them as the members of the Obsidian Order prepared. A faint ripple of energy moved among them, dark and thick, palpable even from a distance. One operative extended a hand, and a shadowy wolf slithered out of the darkness, its eyes glowing faintly red, sniffing the air. Another waved a hand, and a spectral serpent coiled through the air, invisible to those who did not know where to look.
"The first target," the leader continued, "is unaware of the eyes that already watch him. That is to our advantage."
In a hidden alcove, a cultivator with pale hair and icy eyes observed, voice barely audible. "Leader, do we strike immediately or wait for him to draw attention?" Their tone carried caution; they had seen what System users could do when provoked.
"Patience," the leader said. "He will reveal himself in time. And when he does, the Order will act. No mistakes. No hesitation."
Other members whispered among themselves, discussing strategy. One, a tall woman with flames flickering along her fingertips, suggested, "We could infiltrate the academy and extract information about his abilities." Another, shorter but with a lithe, predatory grace, shook their head. "Too risky. Academy wards are strong. We might alert the entire city."
A third voice spoke, calm and measured, though edged with sharpness. "We cannot underestimate him. If the reports are correct, this boy's System is unlike any we've encountered. Adaptive, evolving. He could surpass all expectations before we even make our move."
The leader's gaze sharpened. "Which is why we do nothing for now. We observe, we learn, and when the time comes, we strike. Failure is not an option."
A few members nodded, others merely inclined their heads, the tension palpable. Each of them understood the stakes: a System user like this could destabilize more than just one academy—it could alter the balance of power across the continent.
Meanwhile, back in Starcrest Academy, life seemed deceptively normal. Students trained, instructors barked orders, and the hum of cultivation energy filled the air. But subtle disturbances passed unnoticed by most: seals etched into the walls pulsed faintly, wards flickered for a heartbeat, and a breeze moved where no windows were open.
Kayden, Rayden, and Liora walked toward the training grounds, feeling a subtle weight in the air. "Do you guys feel that?" Rayden asked, brushing a strand of hair from his face. His lightning aura was faintly crackling, alerting him more than usual. "Something's off."
Liora's sharp eyes scanned the perimeter. "It's like… someone's watching. But I don't see anyone."
Kayden said nothing. He had learned to notice the whispers of energy and the faint disturbances that only his instincts, honed by the System, could detect. But this was different. No sound. No prompt. Just awareness. Something out there, moving, waiting.
At the edge of the grounds, Primyte stood silently, leaning against a wall, reading a small book. He made no move, said nothing, but his gaze swept over the horizon just enough to betray that he had noticed it too. Kayden caught the faintest flicker of recognition in his eyes—Primyte was aware of the lurking presence but did not find it alarming. At least, not yet.
Back in the ruins outside the city, a young operative of the Obsidian Order crouched low, observing the academy's walls. "Leader, the energy fluctuations are subtle but real. He's here. He's reacting, even if he doesn't know it."
"Good," the leader replied. "Continue to monitor. Do not approach. Not yet. Let him become familiar with his surroundings. We will not force the hand; we will let him expose himself naturally."
Another operative, their voice muffled under a hood, added, "The academy's wards have shifted again. They've noticed something—or perhaps someone has passed through their barriers."
The leader nodded, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows of his hood. "Then our timing is perfect. We will wait, but not too long. Every System user has their breaking point, and he will eventually make a choice. When he does, we will know everything we need."
The night air thickened, almost vibrating with anticipation. The Obsidian Order dispersed into smaller teams, each taking a position around the city. They were ghosts, invisible to most, yet everywhere. Their cloaks merged with the darkness, their movements silent but precise. One by one, they melded into the night, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Meanwhile, within the academy, Kayden adjusted his stance, feeling the air shift around him. The subtle disturbance, the faint pulse of unseen energy—it was almost imperceptible, but his System sensed it. Not calling, not guiding—just acknowledging. And then, nothing.
Rayden shook his head. "I swear, I feel like we're in a trap. Something's here."
Liora crossed her arms. "You're paranoid. Maybe the wind's just weird today."
Kayden, though, didn't move. He sensed the faintest presence—watching, measuring. Not a student, not an instructor. Something else.
Primyte's eyes flicked to him once, then back to his book. Silence. Observation. Teaching without speaking. Kayden understood the message: stay calm, stay aware, and above all—don't show anything.
Outside the city, a sudden ripple of shadow swept across a rooftop. One operative tilted their head, sensing a flicker of energy from within the academy walls. "He's stronger than the last report suggested," the operative whispered. "Adaptive… dangerous."
The leader's eyes narrowed. "Good. He will test himself soon. Let him. We will be ready."
Back in Starcrest, the day continued deceptively normal. Classes, training, and casual interactions masked the growing tension. Kayden, Rayden, and Liora moved through their routines with subtle caution. Each step, each glance, was measured. No one spoke of the disturbance, but all three felt it.
Rayden broke the silence first. "Okay, seriously, Kayden, are you feeling that too? Because I am not losing my mind here."
Kayden shrugged slightly. "Just… alert. That's all."
Liora tilted her head. "Alert or… sensed something dangerous?"
Kayden's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Let's just focus on the drills. That's all we can control right now."
At the edge of the field, Primyte finally closed his book, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Good. Keep your focus. Awareness is more important than reaction right now."
Rayden huffed. "You sound like you're talking to a statue, Primyte. Are you even paying attention to us?"
Primyte didn't answer. He only observed the horizon, as if waiting for something he already knew would appear.
And somewhere in the shadows surrounding Starcrest, eyes glinted, movement whispered. The Obsidian Order had chosen their night. They watched, calculated, and prepared. Every decision, every blink of light, every faint ripple of energy—they cataloged. They were patient. They were meticulous. And they were deadly.
The city slept, oblivious. The academy thrummed with quiet energy, unaware of the forces converging in silence. And for Kayden, the System remained silent, waiting. Not guiding. Not intervening. Just observing with him, as if testing whether he could recognize the unseen.
As night deepened, Kayden returned to his dorm, closing the door quietly behind him. The room was dark, the city lights casting a pale glow through the windows. He sank onto his bed, eyes staring at the ceiling. Primyte's words from the previous night echoed faintly in his mind: adaptive System users don't retire. They disappear—or are erased.
Kayden exhaled slowly, heart still steady but mind racing. And then the thought struck him, sudden and sharp: his parents. He had never known exactly how they disappeared. Only that they were gone, that the details were missing, erased from memory, from accounts, from whispers.
A chill ran through him. Were his parents… System users too? And if so, what had happened to them? What path had they taken? The silence of the room pressed down on him as he stared at the faint city glow beyond the window. The System remained still, unresponsive, yet the weight of its presence lingered. Something was stirring. Something unseen.
For the first time, Kayden realized the depth of the danger not just outside, but around him. The watchers, the shadows, the Order—they were patient. Calculating. And he had no idea when the first move would come.
He tightened his fists, breathing slowly. The night was quiet, too quiet, but his mind was far from at peace. And in that silence, the question burned: what had become of his parents? And what legacy—or danger—had they left for him to inherit?