The air crackled with a malevolent energy as the obsidian crow, Adrian's spirit, detached from his shoulder and ascended, its form a stark silhouette against the bruised twilight. It cut through roiling darkness like a spearhead, leading the other crows into the churning vortex overhead. Below, the scene unfolded in a chilling ballet of power and demise.
One by one, the majestic dragon spirits that had dominated the sky suddenly lost their coherence. They weren't merely disappearing; they were being dismantled, their ethereal forms dissolving into sparks of light as the crows dispatched them with brutal efficiency. The falling spirits created an eerie, tragic cascade around Adrian, who stood in the epicenter of this sudden slaughter.
On the high podium, Principal Kaelen and Professer Hadrian could only stare, their faces pale with shock. They had been glancing toward the dark, dense woods where the initial summoning power had erupted, but now their attention was fixed on the cataclysmic events above the arena. "Good heavens...the dragon spirits are falling!" Principal Kaelen breathed, his voice tight with disbelief.
Professer Hadrian, usually stoic, merely shook his head, a primal unease settling his gut. "How...? The sheer dark affinity required for this is immense. This is beyond any student."
A distance away, in the thick, silent gloom of the forest realm, Valerius's eyes were wide with a disbelief that quickly morphed into a furious resolve. He saw the dragon spirits, his supposed competition, falling like broken kites. "Unbelievable! Who dares to challenge my supremacy? I cannot see the summoner through this accused darkness and vortex!" he snarled to himself, his aristocratic features twisting in the murky light. He quickly mounted his spectral lion, the creature's form glowing with an indignant azure light. "No one takes my place. I am great Archon's son! I will find whoever this and crush them!" He spurred his lion forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Back in the arena, with the last dragon spirit dissolved into nothingness, the immense power began to take its toll. The dark energy that had sustained the vortex and animated the crows receded, leaving a sudden vacuum. Adrian, the architect of his brutal display, suddenly gasped, a thin stream of crimson blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as if the immense dark power had through his own vitality. His maniacal satisfaction vanished in an instant, replaced by the pale mask of exhaustion. He swayed, then collapsed onto the ground.
Around him, the students and some classmates stood frozen in a mixture of shock and disdainful disbelief. Whispers erupted immediately, a cruel murmur of judgment. "He's so weak...he just collapsed." "He must have cheated! There's no way that weak boy and his scrawny crow spirit could surpass us legitimately!" The words stung, a chorus of dismissal that refused to acknowledge the incredible power they had just witnessed, determined to believe that a weak boy like Adrian could never surpass them.
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Adrian's world faded in and out, a disorienting haze punctuated by a voice that felt as if it originated not from anyone, but from the recesses of his own memory. It was soft yet broken, a girl's voice whispering, "I am sorry," in the back of his mind. Why these words, now, when he was vulnerable? The question had no answer before a deafening thud followed, vibrating through his very core and making his heart constrict in a sharp pang of pain.
Adrian bolted upright in the bed, gasping. Cold sweat slicked his skin, and unconcious tears streamed from his eyes. His breathing was shallow and fast, almost hyperventilating. A soft, concerned voice cut through the panic, pulling Adrian back to reality.
"Adrian? Adrian, can you hear me?"
He blinked, vision clearing. It was the academy's doctor, a kind-faced woman introduced earlier in the first task as Dr. Aris Thorne. Adrian looked around wildly, recognizing the sterile white walls of the infirmary.
Dr. Throne placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Easy now, you're safe. You gave us quite a scare."
Adrian swallowed, his throat dry. His memories of the first task of the academy flooded back like a cruel reality. The task...did it get over? He remembered standing frozen in debilitating fear when he saw the giant spirits which he was expected to dispatch. The memory of his maniac side- the cold, efficient warrior who knew no fear- was gone, as if it wasn't even him at that moment.
"My spirit...my crow spirit, hilt," Adrian whispered, looking frantically for his weapon. "Where is hilt?"
"It's safe, and stored under lock and key," Dr. Thorne assured him. "You did well, Adrian. Surprisingly well. You dispatched dragon spirits, although you then pushed yourself far past your limit. Your dark energy from the crow spirit nearly consumed you, taking your vitality with it. You've been unconcious for two days."
Adrian stared at her, the reality of what he had done settling in. He had succeeded, but at a cost. The voice...the thud...was it a memory of the incident, or something older, darker? The infirmary suddenly felt much colder.
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