The Shadow Games

Idris stood rooted, wide-eyed, as he watched Kael surge forward. In his hand, a gleaming hammer materialized, catching the fractured light of the demon's lair. The demon, turned its grotesque visage towards Kael, its eyes burning with an animalistic intent.

With a guttural roar, the demon unleashed a blast of dark energy, a wave of destruction aimed squarely at Kael. But Kael was no ordinary warrior; he twisted his body like a dancer, evading the lethal strike with a grace that belied his formidable stature. He landed low, crouched and poised, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to unleash its power.

In a heartbeat, Kael surged forward, hammer gripped tightly in both hands, and unleashed a ferocious strike aimed at the demon's lower jaw. The impact echoed like thunder as the hammer met flesh, the force causing the demon's head to snap back violently. Blood erupted from the wound, a dark spray that painted the ground beneath them.

He followed through with a swift twist of his torso, bringing the hammer down once more, this time striking the demon's temple with brutal precision. The creature howled in agony, but Kael wasn't finished. He hammered down again and again, a flurry of strikes that sent blood splattering across the cobblestones, each blow resonating with the raw power of his fury.

"What's going on?" Idris mumbled looking again at the driver. His eyes were blank, almost as if he was used to being attacked in the middle of nowhere. With a sigh, he mumbled beneath his breath, "Powerful magic is at play."

"Should it be powerful or forbidden magic?" Elianore interrupted, her presence hard to ignore, crouched just at their side. The heat from the earlier onslaught could still be felt.

"Your main duty is to protect the bride." The man said dryly.

"We weren't paid to protect any bride." Dorian said firmly.

"Does it matter?" The man cocked a brow. "If she dies, then you're all in deep shit. Do you think Lord Lawrence will buy it? He'll have all of you slaughtered."

"The old man is nothing but money and fame..." Ember snapped. "We can easily kill him if we wanted to."

"But that'd make you have a bounty on your head." The man said again, his tone dryly. "It's just like what I said, I'm too old for this."

Through a corner, Idris peaked back at where Kael was — his movements a quick succession as he drove his hammer through the demon. But there was something that caught his attention. The hammer landed aggressively against the demon's limbs, shattering them, but the skin knitted together, weaving afresh the limbs like they were never smashed. It's as evident the demon used healing magic, it was part of its system. He gritted his teeth, until his eyes met with Kael, who wore a terrible grin on his bruised face. Was he enjoying this?

"I don't have much to say." The old man said softly, his tone gentle now. "You have to protect the princess with all your life. Make sure you take her to Lord Lawrence, no matter what!"

"What can we do? I think we signed up for this." Idris said.

Dorian's eyes were staring at Elianore, his gaze lingering on her slowly, almost as if he was captivated with something about her. "These two are the guards for the bride..."

The man cocked a brow. "And what are you?"

"Their guards!" He replied bitterly, disdain staining his tone. Elianore smirked, unable to stop staring at him for a moment.

Idris sighed. "We can't protect the bride, not with that demon out there."

"I can take care of it." The man said softly again, a notable smirk visible on his face.

"Take care of it?" Ember asked. "How? I can barely feel any Mana from you."

The man grinned, erecting himself.

Idris peered cautiously at the man, dusting off his suit, the remnants of battle swirling around them. "Don't you know that magic can be suppressed?" he said, his voice carrying an air of confidence, despite the chaos outside. Idris's gaze flickered back to the fight, where Kael was locked in a desperate struggle against the demon.

His heart sank as he noticed Kael lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, the demon's claws poised dangerously close to piercing his flesh. Panic surged through Idris. "Kael is dying!" he exclaimed, glancing quickly at Ember. "We need to help him!"

Dorian let out a laugh, a sound that was both mocking and unsettling. But then, without warning, his expression changed, his face contorting into a mask of sinister intent. "What do you take us for?" he sneered, eyes glinting with something dark.

Ember leaned in, a grin creeping across her face. "Have you heard of anyone who goes by the name, Black Wind?" she asked, her voice laced with intrigue.

Elianore nodded slowly, her tone contemplative. "I've heard a lot about him. He was the one who created the Black Massacre in the Royal Capital..."

Idris felt a ripple of confusion wash over him. The mention of the Royal Capital and the Black Massacre was foreign to him, and he found himself inexplicably fascinated. "What's the Black Massacre?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Ember's eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to him. "The Black Wind is Kael," she revealed, as if unveiling a thrilling secret. "He's not just some warrior; he's a legend."

Idris's mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of this newfound knowledge. The weight of Kael's identity sank in alongside the gravity of their situation. "But if he's the Black Wind, then why is he out there fighting alone?" he questioned, desperation creeping into his voice.

"Because that's what legends do," Dorian replied, his tone now almost reverent. "They face their demons—literally and figuratively."

As the tension in the air thickened, Idris felt the urgency surge within him. They couldn't leave Kael to fend for himself, not when every second mattered. "We have to go now!" he insisted, rallying the others. "We can't let him die."

As they reached the opening of the clearing, the man raised a hand, halting their progress with an air of authority. "Stop wanting to be heroes," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "You should just sit back and watch while I take care of this."

With a deliberate stride, he began to walk toward the demon, his presence commanding and assured. Idris felt a mix of disbelief and curiosity as he watched the man stretch his hand forth, mumbling under his breath. "How much I hate magic…" he muttered, his voice laced with resignation, "and yet here I am, forced to use it at a time like this." A chuckle escaped his lips, almost as if he found the irony amusing.

Suddenly, a radiant orb flickered to life in his palm, glowing like flames caught in a gentle breeze. The man grinned, waving the orb through the air, and as he did, the flames began to twist and turn, forming into a serpentine shape that danced with life.

Idris found himself momentarily captivated by the display, but just as he was beginning to appreciate the spectacle, a whistling sound sliced through the air, sharp and foreboding. His heart sank as beams of light—sharp and deadly—pierced through the man's form, blood gushing from the wounds. The man staggered, unable to maintain his composure, and Idris's instincts kicked in. "No!" he screamed, his voice raw with urgency as he instinctively rushed forward to aid him.

But before he could reach the man, a strong grip seized him from behind, pulling him back just in time to avoid yet another beam that shot through the air, missing him by mere inches. He looked up, his heart racing, and met Elianore's steady gaze.

"Stay back!" she commanded, her grip firm but not unkind.

Idris's eyes darted to where the beams had emerged from and to his surprise, there was a man. Now, he was perched atop a nearby shop, laughing—a wild, carefree sound that sent shivers down Idris's spine. The man wore nothing on his upper body, showcasing a sculpted chest and an array of necklaces that glimmered in the dim light. His baggy pants hung loosely, and his attractive face bore a casual expression, as if he were merely observing a performance rather than partaking in a battle.

"Never expected there to be such company," he called down to them, his tone teasing, almost mocking.

Ember's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "I'm tired of all this killing!" she screamed, fury igniting her words.

Elianore loosened her grip on Idris, drawing her blades with a fluid motion, her focus narrowing on the arrogant figure above them.

"Surrender," Dorian warned, his voice low and threatening, "or else."

The man chuckled, a sound laced with menace, before he snapped his fingers. An explosion of light erupted, tearing through the air like a comet, bright and blinding. Idris quickly turned his head, his heart dropping as he realized the space where Kael had been fighting the demon was now empty—swallowed by the chaos.

"Kael!!!" Ember screamed, her voice filled with desperation and disbelief.

In that moment, an explosion of energy radiated from Ember, her aura igniting around her like a blazing flame of purple. Idris's eyes widened as she thrust her hand forward, chanting a spell that summoned bolts of lightning crackling with energy.

But the man was ready. With an effortless flip, he evaded the attack, landing gracefully on his feet, his gaze sweeping across the group as if calculating their next move. Just then, a powerful blast of wind surged from him, sweeping through the clearing and knocking them off their feet, sending them sprawling to the ground.

Idris gasped for breath, his heart pounding as he scrambled to regain his footing. The battle was escalating, and they were caught in the eye of the storm. The stakes had never felt higher. Was this still about retrieving the bride or it was something much deeper?

The man stood tall, a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face as he surveyed the chaos around him. "You see," he began, his voice dripping with mockery, "what you're witnessing is no ordinary magic. I wield a rare type known as King's Gate." He paused, letting the name hang in the air like a challenge. "This magic allows me to manipulate the very fabric of reality ." He chuckled, the sound echoing ominously in the clearing. "You should be grateful, really. You've been chosen to participate in the Shadow Games." The words rolled off his tongue as if he were announcing a grand spectacle, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Idris furrowed his brow, his mind racing to comprehend what the man was saying. "What are you talking about?" he questioned, confusion clouding his thoughts.

The man threw his head back and laughed aloud, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Idris's spine. "Stupid little heroes," he taunted, his amusement palpable. "I hope you survive. It would be a shame for such potential to go to waste."

With a flourish, the man snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the atmosphere around them shifted. Idris felt a jolt of energy ripple through the air, and suddenly, everything began to swirl. Darkness engulfed his vision, tendrils of shadow creeping in from the edges until they consumed him entirely.

He struggled to maintain his footing, the world around him twisting and distorting as if reality itself were unraveling. The laughter of the man faded into the void, leaving Idris with a growing sense of dread. Panic clawed at his chest as he felt himself being pulled into the depths of the unknown, his heart pounding in rhythm with the chaos swirling around him.

"Ember! Elianore! Dorian!" he shouted, his voice barely rising above the cacophony of swirling darkness. But his cries were swallowed, lost within the shadows that devoured all light and hope.

As the shadows closed in, Idris fought to hold onto the fragments of his consciousness, desperate to escape the nightmare that had ensnared him.

*

Idris's vision blurred, consumed by swirling shadows that seemed to suffocate him. His mind reeled, struggling to maintain coherence as fragments of memories flashed before his eyes: Kael's battered face, Ember's desperate cry, and the mysterious man's laughter echoing through the chaos.

As the darkness receded, Idris's eyes flickered with glitches – distorted pixels dancing across his field of vision like fireflies on a summer night. The disorienting sensation left him nauseous and lightheaded.

Suddenly, the faint chirping of birds pierced the silence, a melodic counterpoint to the turmoil within him. The sweet scent of dew wafted through his nostrils, carrying the damp earthy smell of the forest floor. The gentle caress of grass against his skin jarred him back to reality.

Idris gasped, his eyes fluttering wide open. He lay in a lush forest, surrounded by towering trees that filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Disoriented and panicked, he sprang to his feet, his heart racing with anticipation.

"What...where am I?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Memories of the battle flooded his mind: the man's sneer, the flash of light, and the sensation of being pulled apart. Idris's thoughts swirled with questions. How did he get here? Was this some sort of prison? A game?

As he scanned his surroundings, digits began to materialize before his eyes:

« System Initialization »

"Welcome, Idris"

Current Location: Unknown

Status: Alive

Class : Mage

HP: 100/100

Mana: 130/200

Skills:

- Celestial Magic (Level 2)

- Swordsmanship (Level 1)

- Archery (Level 1)

Quests:

- Retrieve the Bride (Incomplete)

- Survive the Shadow Games (New)

Idris's eyes widened in horror as he stared at the floating digits. What was this? A game? A reality? A nightmare?

"No, no, no...this can't be," he muttered, stumbling backward.

The memories of the man's laughter and the feeling of being manipulated sent a chill down his spine. Idris recalled the man's words: "You've been chosen to participate in the Shadow Games."

"Shadow Games?" he whispered, his voice trembling. This wasn't part of what he was expecting. Lord Lawrence had sent them for a mission unless it was a set-up? He gritted his teeth, his eyes still staring at the numbers that flashed in his eyes. Was this some kind of system? He thought, unable to ignore the frustration that burnt beneath his skin.

First, he lost his friends.

Second, he lost his wings.

Third, he was turned into a slave.

And now, he's being made to participate inside this game?

Idris's eyes remained fixed on the floating digits, his mind reeling with questions and fears. The forest around him seemed to fade into the background as he struggled to comprehend the reality of his situation.

Suddenly, The System flashed a message before his eyes, its font glowing with an ethereal light:

«Choose Your Starting Gift »

Option 1: Weapon

Option 2: Grimoire

Idris's gaze lingered on the options, his silence a testament to his turmoil. Memories of his past battles, his lost wings, and his enslaved existence flooded his mind. What would give him the edge he needed to survive this twisted game?

Finally, he muttered, "Grimoire."

« Choice Affirmed »

"Congratulations, Idris"

• You have chosen the Grimoire

« Grimoire : Dark Covenant »

Level: 5

Spells: 1

Spell Slots:

• Soulreaver Lv 5

Idris's eyes widened as he stared at the Grimoire's details. The Dark Covenant's dark, leather-bound cover seemed to materialize before him, adorned with ancient runes that pulsed with magic.

« Will You Seek Revenge or Walk the Path of Righteousness? »

Option 1: Revenge

Option 2: Righteousness

Idris's expression twisted, his thoughts consumed by the memories of his past. Lord Lawrence's betrayal, the agony of losing his wings, and the countless battle he endured as a slave. Revenge burned within him like a raging fire.

Yet, a glimmer of uncertainty flickered in his heart. Was revenge worth sacrificing his soul?

The System's silence was oppressive, waiting for his response.

When none came, The System flashed another pair of questions:

« Choose Your Ascension Path »

Option 1: Celestial Knight

Option 2: Devil Lord

Idris's gaze dropped, his voice barely above a whisper, "Devil Lord."

The words felt like a vow, sealing his fate.

« Choice Affirmed »

Idris's hand extended, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he reached for the floating Grimoire. The Dark Covenant's cover seemed to beckon him, its ancient runes pulsing with raw power.

The moment his skin made contact with the Grimoire, it began to dissolve, its pages shedding like autumn leaves. Idris's eyes widened as the Grimoire's fragments dispersed, revealing a figure behind.

A young girl materialized, her small horns jutting out from her forehead, contrasting with her innocent beauty. Her piercing emerald eyes sparkled as she genuflected before Idris, her lips drawn into a subtle smile.

"Who are you?" Idris asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I am Evie," she replied, her voice melodic. "I'm pleased to be your servant."

Idris took a step back, startled. "Servant?"

Evie's grin broadened, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "This is my true form. I am the Dark Covenant, and I wish to serve you, Master."

Idris shook his head sideways, muttering, "This is making me insane."

Evie's laughter was like a gentle breeze. "I can switch between forms as a manner of adaptation, Master. The Grimoire was just one of them."

Before Idris could respond, a notification flashed in his eyes:

«Get ready, something is approaching»

The rustling of bushes grew louder, and Ember emerged, her face bruised and blood-stained. Her white top was splattered with crimson, and her pants were torn. A battered blade hung at her side, its edge chipped and worn.

Idris's gaze locked onto Ember's injuries, concern etched on his face. "Ember, what happened?"

Ember's eyes darted between Idris and Evie, her expression guarded. She limped closer, her battered blade at the ready.

"Who is she?" Ember demanded, her voice laced with suspicion.

Evie's gaze shifted to Idris, her emerald eyes sparkling with an unsettling intensity. "Master, should we kill her?"

Idris's eyes widened, caught off guard by Evie's question.