When the sun dipped below the horizon, something began to awaken within Lusian.It was not mere magic.
It was a pulse.A summons.
The darkness recognized him.
Garet Douglas walked at his side, leaning on his blackened iron staff. His eyes—deep as moonless wells—shone with quiet pride. Since he had begun teaching Lusian the secrets of darkness, the ancient legacy of the Douglas line, he had not been able to hide his astonishment. The shadows seemed to bow to the young heir, responding with a devotion that even Garet himself had never achieved in his prime—the old man who had once been the silent terror of the border wars. The nameless assassin. The master who trained Lawrence.
The guardian of the Douglases.
"My lord," Garet growled, without softness, "never in this duchy has there been an heir with epsilon affinity. Never.Not Lawrence.Not the former dukes."
He stopped before Lusian, resting his full weight on the dark staff.
"The darkness… feel it. Understand it. Join it," he said in a low voice. "Become the night itself. Do not waste this blessing. Use it."
Lusian swallowed and nodded.Not out of humility—
—but because he knew Garet was not exaggerating.
He could feel something within him—intangible, yet undeniable. It was not a voice nor an alien presence, but his own mana, rising from the deepest part of his being. A force that moved like another muscle, another limb, as natural as his arm or his leg… and it answered his will with perfect obedience.
The darkness vibrated around him like a living creature.
The old man snapped his fingers, reminding him of the spell.
And Lusian felt the pull.
His shadow stretched—lengthened—dissolved like ink spilled across water—
And then it happened.
The night's darkness wrapped around him, accepting him as one of its own. The spell—an ancient technique that can awaken only in the absence of light—activated with an almost organic smoothness.
In a blink, Lusian ceased to be a visible body.He did not hide within the shadows.
He became them.
Thanks to his affinity for dark magic, the night claimed him entirely, rendering him invisible to any gaze.
No sound.No trace of mana.
Not even Garet—the very man teaching him the spell—could sense him. The darkness had enveloped him completely.
In that state, Lusian simply did not exist.
To his enemies, there would be no warning. No whisper of movement. No tremor of mana betraying his presence.They would only feel the blade pierce them—
—and then nothing.
The guardian soldiers watching from a distance murmured among themselves with reverent unease.
"It's like Lawrence…"
But only Garet knew the truth.He knew it was far more than that.He knew the night did not merely conceal him—
—it claimed him as its own.
"It's as if the night wants him for itself," one veteran whispered, shuddering.
Garet allowed himself the faintest smile when Lusian reappeared at his side, restoring solid form to the place where only shadow had lingered moments before.
"That, my lord," he said with quiet pride, "is only the beginning."
That same night, a group of magical predators attempted to approach the training grounds.
They never took a second step.
Lusian raised his hand.
A dark circle opened beneath their feet, imperceptible in the night.
Spears of darkness.Completely invisible.Completely silent.
A violet flicker.A strangled breath.A body collapsing without understanding what had pierced it.
The monsters died without ever knowing they had been attacked.
Garet nodded, satisfied.
"That ability… will save your life one day.And take others."
Lusian walked back without a drop of blood on him, breathing steadily.
Thunder snorted proudly, lightning coursing through his mane.Umber bared his fangs, tail swaying like a wolf recognizing an alpha.In the distance, Adela watched in silence as the level 51 ice tiger kept its gaze fixed on Lusian with almost instinctive respect.
The young duke had mastered something even he did not fully understand—
To be invisible, undetectable, and lethal.A ghost in the night.An anomaly even among the Douglases.
And this…was only the first step of his growth.
On the tenth day of the journey, as the sky burned red, Lusian watched part of the caravan move ahead to clear the path. Among them were several dozen adventurers—hunters, mages, scouts… men and women who had chosen to join the duchy's massive migration.
The guild had issued an order: explore and report what was happening in the region.
Almost simultaneously, a request had come from the duchy. They needed a reconnaissance team.
The coincidence was a blessing.
Thanks to it, the scouts could accept both missions without exposing themselves to the extreme danger of traveling alone. Because wandering those lands in isolation was a death sentence.
But marching beside the Douglas heir and two thousand soldiers…
That meant survival.
One of those teams was Blue Current, five mid-to-high-ranked adventurers who had thus far kept their distance, performing their duties with discipline but without exchanging words with Lusian.
That day, however, something changed.
A tremor shook the earth ahead.
Shouts.Clashing magic.The wet sound of flesh being torn apart.
Albert raised a hand.
"Adventurers engaged… their unit is directly ahead."
Lusian spurred Thunder forward.
When they crested the hill, he saw them.
The five adventurers were fighting a Garrakom, a colossal reptile armored in bone plates. They were holding it at bay—but so focused on the front that none noticed the smaller predator slipping behind them, moving with lethal stealth.
In a single lapse, everything tilted toward disaster.
One Garrakom kept the five women occupied… but none saw the secondary predator emerging from the brush, silent, poised to strike from behind.
Lusian saw it.Thunder did as well.
"Thunder."
CRACK!
Lightning fell like a divine spear, obliterating the predator before it could touch the last adventurer.
The main monster staggered, stunned.
"Finish it," Lusian ordered, his voice firm yet calm.
The women reacted instantly—water, ice, and steel combining in a seamless assault.
The creature fell.
Silence followed.
The adventurers bowed at once, nearly kneeling.
Their leader stepped forward, head lowered.
"My lord… Lirianne Velmont. Delta-rank adventurer… at your service. Thank you for your intervention."
Her tone was respectful—careful.
Lusian dismounted.
"Your group fights well. There was only one lapse."
Lirianne swallowed without lifting her gaze.
"We take full responsibility, my lord. We are… ashamed to have endangered the march."
Lusian shook his head slightly.
"We travel together. If one falls, we all lose."
The adventurer's eyes widened just a fraction, surprised by his words. She did not show it, but her voice softened.
"That is… generous of you, my lord."
Lusian glanced back at the caravan—exhausted women, children asleep atop improvised wagons, elders walking with difficulty.
"The situation demands cooperation from all of us. Nobles, soldiers, adventurers… there are no differences in the midst of a crisis like this."
Lirianne lowered her head even further—this time in genuine respect.
"My lord… if I may say so… your way of acting… is worthy of admiration. Not many nobles—" she corrected herself quickly. "Forgive me. I only meant… we are not accustomed to seeing an heir concerned with common people."
Lusian did not comment.
He simply said, "When we reach Carter territory, we will need everything from you. Preparation. Precision. Courage."
Lirianne placed a hand over her chest and bowed deeply.
"Blue Current answers your call, my lord. We will fight wherever you command."
Thunder snorted.Umber showed his fangs in acknowledgment.Lirianne stepped back respectfully, though her eyes shone.
"Then," she said with a formal bow, "we will continue walking under your protection."
The invisible barrier between "adventurers" and "nobles" did not vanish—
—but that day, it grew thinner.