The Black Border was not just a geographic line; it was a graveyard of sound. In the eternal twilight of the volcanic peaks, Leo walked through a canyon of obsidian needles. He was hunting a "Mana-Vampire," a creature born from the Shadow Council's discarded experiments.
But for the first time in months, Leo felt like he was the one being hunted.
The Stalker in the Void
The temperature began to drop—not the natural cold of the wind, but a parasitic, soul-deep chill. Leo's dragon-scale mantle flared a dull orange as it struggled to maintain his body heat.
"You're late for your kill, little knight," a voice drifted from the cracks in the stone.
Leo spun, his hand igniting with a controlled, concentrated spark of Hellfire. "Show yourself, Umbra."
From the shadows of an obsidian spire, the Right Hand emerged. Umbra didn't look like a man; he looked like a silhouette cut out of the world and filled with liquid midnight. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply hovered, his presence a void that seemed to swallow the light from Leo's hand.
"The King has trained you well," Umbra whispered. "You've learned to squeeze the sun into a thimble. But tell me... does the thimble feel like it's about to burst?"
The Psychological Blade
Leo launched a lash of blackened vines, but Umbra simply phased through them. "I'm not here to fight a weapon, Leo. I'm here to talk to the boy who once loved a girl with silver hair."
Leo flinched. The flame on his hand flickered wildly. "Don't speak about her."
"Why not? She thinks you're a pile of ash in a town square," Umbra circled him, his voice echoing from all directions. "While you sit here in this iron cage, protecting the 'peace' of a kingdom that finds you repulsive. Do you think Alaric loves you? He doesn't love a boy. He loves a fire extinguisher."
"I protect the people," Leo growled, his mana-levels spiking. The obsidian beneath his feet began to glow.
"What people? The ones who called you a monster? The ones who would scream if they saw your face today?" Umbra stopped directly in front of him. "The Shadow Council doesn't want to cage you, Leo. We want to let you be what you are. A force of nature. A storm that clears the rot."
The Crack in the Armor
Umbra reached out a hand made of shifting smoke. "Did the King tell you about the execution order? The one the Council signed the moment you entered that fortress? They call it the 'Final Quench.' Once the Shadow Council is gone, they'll turn those silver siphons of yours to maximum power. They won't just drain your magic, Leo. They'll drain your life. You are a bridge they intend to burn once they've crossed it."
Leo's breath hitched. He remembered the cold, distant eyes of the Magic King during their last meeting. He remembered how the mechanical bird never brought letters—only targets.
"Liar," Leo spat, but the word felt hollow.
The Glimpse of the Truth
With a flick of his wrist, Umbra tossed a small, crystalline shard onto the ground. It projected a memory—not his own, but a stolen fragment of a Council meeting.
Leo saw the high-ranking nobles, the same ones who mocked him at the exam. He saw them passing a scroll with his face on it. He heard the words: "The weapon is temporary. Its disposal must be absolute."
The Hellfire surged. Not as a concentrated spark, but as a violent, jagged ripple that shattered the obsidian needles for fifty feet. The heat was so intense that even Umbra had to retreat into the deeper shadows.
"The clock is ticking, Leo," Umbra's voice faded into the wind. "The King has made you cold. But we know how much you want to burn. When you're ready to stop being a 'contingency' and start being a King... come find us."
Leo stood alone in the wreckage, his hands shaking. He looked at his reflection in a piece of polished obsidian. He didn't recognize the person staring back.
Deep in his mind, the white-haired man laughed. "The shadow speaks the truth, boy. Even a cage made of gold is still a cage."