The gates of Virelune Academy loomed over him, grand and imposing, carved from ancient stone that gleamed under the afternoon sun. Kurozane Ryūma adjusted the strap of his bag, his amber eyes scanning the courtyard. Students bustled around him—magicians, hybrids, and warriors in training—each radiating power that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
A part of him wanted to run, to vanish into the void he could call home. But another part, the stubborn core of him that refused to be nothing, pushed him forward. Today was the start of something new—a place where he could belong, or at least try.
Being a Void Dragon hybrid was no small matter. His heritage marked him as different, feared even. Even now, shadows flickered along his arms, tendrils of black energy that moved almost as if they had a mind of their own. Most students glanced away quickly, unease clear in their eyes. Whispers followed him as he passed.
"Heartless."
"Dangerous hybrid."
"Better stay away from him."
Ryūma ignored them. He had long since learned that the world feared what it could not control.
His first day in class went smoothly enough. Teachers were polite but cautious, and students kept their distance. Everything seemed almost normal—almost. That normalcy shattered during the afternoon lesson when a scream echoed through the academy halls.
Ryūma's instincts flared. Without thinking, he leapt into the corridor, void energy curling around him like living armor. What he saw froze his blood: one of his classmates lay lifeless on the floor, blood pooling like ink. Panic erupted around him, screams and accusations ricocheting off the walls.
Before he could react, a group of students pressed around him, pointing and shouting.
"It's him! He did this!"
"The heartless hybrid killed her!"
"Everyone stay back—don't let him escape!"
Ryūma's claws flexed. His voice, cold and controlled, cut through the chaos. "I didn't—"
But no one listened. Even his closest friend, the one he had laughed with, shared glances with the others.
"Heartless," they sneered in unison. Even she, the girl he had trusted with his feelings, let her lips curl in a cruel smile. "I always knew there was something wrong with you, Ryūma. You're not one of us… never were."
Ryūma's fists clenched, his claws leaving faint marks on the stone beneath him. Every word, every laugh, stabbed deeper than any blade. The evidence proving his innocence had vanished; no one would listen, and the betrayal of those he loved burned hotter than the fire in his veins.
Yet, in the midst of their mockery, something inside him stirred—a slow, undeniable flame. He could not change the past, nor could he force them to see the truth now. But he could forge his own path.
A faint aura shimmered around him, black as the void, stretching outward like tendrils of night. His dragon heritage pulsed in his blood, awakening from years of restraint. The whispers of the void caressed his mind, promising power beyond fear, beyond betrayal, beyond humanity itself.
The evidence against him had already been "cleared." No one would look deeper. No one would question. The world had decided: he was guilty.
"I don't need your approval," he murmured, his voice cold but steady. "I'll become more than you can ever comprehend. One day… the truth will claw its way out, and when it does… you'll see me for what I truly am."
By the evening, he was expelled. A single word branded on his name: Heartless. No trial, no chance to explain, just whispers and pointed fingers as the academy turned its back on him.
With that, Kurozane turned his back on the academy gates, on the laughter, on the world that had branded him a heartless monster. Each step took him further into exile, deeper into the shadows of the void, and closer to the mastery that would make him untouchable.
In that moment, the betrayal became fuel, the mockery became sharpening stone, and Ryūma embraced the path of the Void Dragon, a journey of vengeance, power, and eventual vindication.
Alone outside the gates, Ryūma let the void surge through him, tendrils of darkness bending the air around him. Rage and betrayal churned inside like a storm, but beneath it, a spark of resolve ignited.
And with that Ryūma left,
The forest beyond the academy gates was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves and the distant roar of a beast in the night. Kurozane Ryūma's claws dug into the earth as he tested the limits of his void powers, letting the shadows writhe around him like living tendrils. He was alone—but not for long.
A sudden flash of golden light cut through the darkness. A figure stood there, her golden hair catching the moonlight, eyes sharp and calculating. She radiated power—destructive, raw, and controlled. Seraphine Noctris.
"You're the one they call the heartless," she said, her voice smooth, almost teasing. "Funny… I've been looking for someone interesting to challenge me. You… might work."
Ryūma's eyes narrowed, instinctively flaring the void around him. "And you are?" His voice was low, carrying the weight of his anger and exile.
"Seraphine. Witch of Destruction," she replied, a smirk forming. "I hear you've caused quite the stir… expelled for murder, mocked, left with nothing. A shame… but it makes you all the more tempting as a test."
She moved with fluid grace, and in an instant, the ground around them cracked, molten energy slicing the air. Ryūma responded in kind, void tendrils lashing out, twisting the terrain, forcing her to adjust. The forest became their battlefield, shadows and light colliding in a deadly dance.
Minutes passed, then hours—it could have been days. Both tested the other's limits, neither yielding. Then, just as her attack was about to strike true, Ryūma's void flared in a burst that pushed her back.
Seraphine laughed—cold, sharp, but not cruel. "Interesting," she said, brushing dust from her robes. "You're stronger than I expected… and yet, there's something about you. That fire, that… refusal to break. You're not like the others."
Ryūma, still cautious, lowered his void just slightly. "What do you want?"
"Nothing… yet," she said, her golden eyes glinting. "But survive, and you might just earn my respect. I don't forgive easily… but I do recognize strength. You might live yet, fox."
With that, she vanished into the night, leaving Ryūma alone—but no longer entirely without hope. In her presence, he felt the first stirrings of recognition, of a kindred spirit who could understand power without fear.
And somewhere deep in the shadows of the forest, a pact began to form—silent, unspoken, but stronger than any words: if he survived, Seraphine Noctris would follow him… and the world would tremble.
The ruins of an abandoned battlefield stretched before them, scorched earth and shattered trees bearing witness to countless fights. Ryūma's void tendrils writhed like black serpents, the air thick with tension. Across from him, Seraphine Noctris hovered with a predatory grace, golden hair flowing, her destructive aura crackling like a storm ready to break.
"You've survived long enough, fox," she said, voice smooth but edged with challenge. "Let's see if you're worth the legend they made of you."
Ryūma's amber eyes glinted. "I'm not here to play your games. Leave if you value your life."
She laughed, and in an instant, the air split with explosive force. She unleashed a torrent of destruction—fire, shards of energy, and magical force converging like a hurricane aimed at him. Ryūma's void instincts kicked in; shadows twisted and swallowed the attacks, bending the storm around him, countering with precision-born strikes of his own.
For what felt like hours, they clashed—shadow against destruction, instinct against skill. Each strike pushed them to their limits, neither yielding. But Ryūma noticed something: every time she landed a strike, her attacks carried restraint, an unspoken measure of curiosity… almost respect.
Finally, with a surge of void energy, Ryūma overpowered her, pinning her with tendrils that could crush stone. The forest fell silent except for the wind in their hair. Seraphine's golden eyes met his, unflinching, unafraid.
"You… you could kill me," she said, a note of admiration in her voice. "Why don't you?"
Ryūma loosened his grip, letting the shadows dissipate. "Because strength without control is meaningless," he said. "And because I decide who lives… not my anger."
A slow smile curved her lips. "Interesting. You're not like the others," she murmured. "I've met few who could have done what you just did… and fewer who would have spared me. From this moment… I swear my loyalty to you. Fox of the void, you've earned it."
With a graceful bow of her head, Seraphine stepped back, her destructive aura settling into a calm shimmer.Ryuma hesitated, still wary, felt a spark of something rare: trust born not from fear, but from respect.
From that moment, their fates intertwined. The Witch of Destruction became more than a comrade—she became a force bound to him, a shield and sword in the battles yet to come, and a reminder that loyalty could exist even in a world built on betrayal.