Year 30 before the Ascension of the Celestial Monarch
The Shadow Branch Sect was likely the oldest sect in the entire southern continent. Although the influence of the Mortal Monarch was not as absolute here as in the northern or southern continents, the proliferation of Dharma was a priority for him; thus, in recent millennia, sects and schools following the Dharma had been founded in secret or openly.
The founder of the Shadow Branch Sect and the current director were mysterious figures in that regard, as if they had foreseen the success of the Great Monarch's conquest over the entire mortal realm.
The sect's headquarters was an impregnable fortress, designed to protect its members and secrets. The Castle of Darkland was an imposing structure; rising from the white earth of the dark lands, the castle featured dozens of forts, covered bridges, thick green ivy, and white towers surrounding the black center of the sect.
Four circular arches bordered the enormous complex while an invisible barrier covered the place against any threat, protecting their home from intrusion and danger.
"What do you think?" Alana asked.
"Nothing," Ducanor replied, trying to ignore her teasing tone.
What does this woman want? he couldn't help but think to himself with some annoyance.
"Seriously, I didn't think you were worried about it. Based on how you faced Talos, you're really quite a bit more impetuous than I thought," she said, getting closer and closer while clasping her hands behind her back. "If you want to visit Ducanor, you have to stop by the office..." she teased with nonsensical bureaucracy before getting to the point.
"It's not like I lost," Ducanor muttered with some annoyance.
"But you didn't win either. If you want to recover... keep your eyes open for the rest of your life," she mocked, trying to laugh, but stopped upon sensing that he didn't find it funny in the slightest.
"Next time, then, I'll be careful to slice his cornea," he growled as he walked away, annoyed.
Left alone for a moment, a stupefied Alana looked at the ground, perhaps realizing she had pushed too hard.
...
"So, have you heard the rumors?"
The classroom was bustling with the whispers of the students.
Talos, unlike when he faced him in the combat arena, now wore a silver-colored coat and dark glasses that barely hid the scar crossing his eye in a line.
Ducanor glanced at him, checking that he wasn't fuming or posturing; he seemed calmer.
"Have you heard?" a student whispered nearby. "He is from an ancient family of Tara. They say a true princess from one of the great clans is going to marry Talos."
Fiancée, Ducanor thought deeply. In this case, he couldn't help but pity Talos at the fact that they were tying a noose around his neck at such a young age.
"Good morning, please settle down. Today's schedule will be different from other times," Alana's voice cut through the murmurs. "We will discuss the upcoming test."
She stood before the blackboard, her demeanor shifting to that of a lecturer.
"Spiritual energy is the entry spirit into the rank of Noble. Spiritual energy, as the source of vitality for most living beings, sustains all forms of life, just as it sustains the laws of nature themselves. It is the fuel for the forces of creation and destruction."
I suppose I always have to stand out everywhere, Ducanor thought bitterly, though deep down he enjoyed the sensation, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.
"Most of you are Feysir or Feynir, there are even some of even older sub-races, but usually, we can all innately manipulate spiritual energy to warp the laws of nature through will," Alana explained, her voice echoing in the silent atmosphere.
"Spiritual energy is the catalyst, but the Will is the trigger. In the case of the Feysir, if you are a voluntarist, you do not need to connect to escape energies. In the case of the Feynir, it is the spiritual roots that allow them to transform spiritual energy with a thought into a form of nature, like fire or lightning..."
Alana continued her lecture, explaining the intricacies of their power systems, ensuring everyone understood the gravity of the path they were walking.
"And that would be the essential for now. We have received many reviews, so we will have to wait and see when we have exams," she concluded. "If you have conflicts with other people, save it for the arena. Talos, Ducanor, behave yourselves."
As the class began to disperse, she called out.
"Ducanor, wait for me before you leave, we have to talk about your test; after all, you are the next candidate," Alana said with a wide smile.
...
"How are you, Ducanor? What are your goals for the future, eh, Arreus?" a voice teased him in the hallway.
"Not as many as I would like, sure," he said, letting out a small, dry laugh.
"I know, I know. How many years has Jagger wasted her life on you?" the voice mocked loudly enough for the rest of the group to hear, and they began to laugh.
"Sure. You should stop thinking such nonsense or else your mother and I are going to be disappointed," he retorted, thinking how stupid the banter was, though he couldn't help but feel some apprehension at it.
"Yeah, right, my mother wouldn't mess with you even if you paid her."
Walking calmly through the corridors of the sect, Ducanor planned to head quickly to the academy's hunting ground when he suddenly tripped over something.
Stupefied, he looked down and realized that what he had tripped over was the unconscious body of none other than Teacher Alana.