ShadowBound: The Need For Power

A few moments after Liam delivered the final blow to Biant, the manor around them began to shatter—not in debris, but into millions of glass-like fragments, dissolving into the air. In their place, the familiar sight of the training hall returned, the illusion fading completely.

Charlotte stirred first, flexing her fingers as sensation returned to her limbs. With a grunt, she pushed herself to her feet, now free of the numbing paralysis. Beside her, Liam rotated his right arm experimentally—no stiffness, no pain. Whatever enchantment had affected them was gone.

Across the room, the rest of their eight classmates reappeared as well, scattered and disheveled. Each looked exhausted—sweaty, bruised, and barely upright. Liam and Charlotte exchanged a glance, both silently wondering what kind of mess the others had stumbled into after they'd split.

'They probably got ambushed by those masked figures and weren't ready for it,' Liam guessed, reaching into his pocket to sheathe his dagger—only to return it into the depths of his Void Storage with a flick of thought.

The sudden sound of slow clapping pulled everyone's attention upward. Seraphina stood perched elegantly on a raised platform, her arms folded and a delighted smirk on her face. Kaine stood beside her, still as a shadow.

"My, my," Seraphina purred, voice echoing across the hall, "you lot are certainly more fun to watch than I expected. Especially you two cuties." Her eyes twinkled as they landed on Liam and Charlotte.

"The way you worked together—seamless coordination, such graceful timing. It reminded me of myself, actually… and someone else I used to dance with in blood and fire." She cupped her face in mock reminiscence, a small, dreamy sigh escaping her lips.

Then her tone shifted, playful but sharp. "As for the rest of you…" She waved a hand dismissively toward the other eight. "You're egotistical, spoiled brats. Each of you thought you could coast on individual strength, and look where that got you. If this had been a real mission, you'd be nothing more than corpses in a ditch."

She gestured toward Liam and Charlotte again. "Meanwhile, these two would've not only survived—but walked out with the mission done and dusted."

A hum escaped her lips as she tilted her head. "Of course, there were failures. Group-wide."

"Kaine," she said without looking, and Kaine stepped forward.

He uncrossed his arms and clasped them behind his back, his tone firm and measured. "First lesson: never accept a mission with insufficient intel. That is the mark of desperation, not professionalism. You all walked into an objective blind—and it showed."

His gaze swept across the group.

"Second: operate as a unit. Whether one of you can handle the task alone or not is irrelevant. A mission assigned to a group is expected to be approached as one. Coordination. Planning. Strategy."

His attention shifted specifically to Liam and Charlotte.

"You two executed the mission. Efficiently. But you disregarded your squad. And that oversight costs you full points." He paused, daring either of them to argue.

Liam and Charlotte didn't react. No protest, no frustration. Just quiet indifference, as if the scores didn't matter to them at all.

Kaine's eyes narrowed slightly, then relaxed.

"That is all. Any questions?" he asked, scanning the room.

Everyone kept their eyes down—silent, ashamed.

Except one.

Liam raised his hand.

"Speak," Kaine said.

"Biant Hue," Liam said calmly. "Who was he really? And if he's dead… how did you recreate his persona so perfectly? Everything—his mannerisms, his madness—it felt real."

Kaine stared at him for a moment, then side-eyed Seraphina, a silent question hanging in the air.

She smirked. "Don't look at me. He asked you."

Kaine's jaw tightened slightly before he turned back to Liam.

"I'll answer," he said, voice low and steady. "But what you hear may unsettle you."

Liam didn't flinch.

"Honestly, I couldn't careless about how absurd it."

Kaine stood still for a moment, as though carefully measuring the weight of the truth he was about to deliver. The atmosphere in the training hall shifted—became heavier. More serious.

"Biant Hue," he finally said, his voice calm. "Wasn't always a monster. He started as a medical prodigy—graduated from one of the finest alchemical academies in the Kingdom by age sixteen. A surgeon, an alchemist, a theorist. Obsessed with the inner mechanics of the human body. Nervous systems. Muscle reaction. Internal mystic flow."

He paused, letting the silence sit before continuing.

"But that obsession festered. His desire to understand turned into something… darker. His patients became test subjects. He would paralyze them mid-procedure—just enough so they couldn't move, but could feel everything. He wanted to record reactions. Pain thresholds. Nerve failures. Muscle spasms. There was no line he wasn't willing to cross for what he called 'perfect anatomical mastery.'"

A wave of sickened murmurs swept across the group. One of the girls gagged and covered her mouth, while another student turned away completely, looking pale. Charlotte's face tightened with revulsion.

But Liam… didn't even blink. His expression remained unreadable. Cold.

Kaine noticed, and continued.

"Biant was never a trained warrior. His hand-to-hand skill was mediocre at best. But he made up for it with two things—his mind… and his tools." He reached into his coat and pulled out a thin, steel rod, about the length of a finger. It looked ordinary—until Kaine twisted it slightly, and the metal needle split into razor-thin segments and pulsed faintly with mystic light.

"His best creation—what nearly earned him legendary status in the underworld—were these." Kaine held the needle between two fingers. "Medical-grade assassin's tools. Forged from a rare blend of myststeel and stitched alch-thread. Infused with binding runes, pressure-calibrated enchantments, and something else only he knew how to control."

He looked directly at Liam.

"You felt it. The moment one of them pierced your skin, the others responded. Their movements weren't random. They were connected to your heartbeat. Your breathing. Your body's electrical signals. They reacted like living extensions of his will. But they weren't autonomous—they were mathematical. Designed to read you."

He returned the needle to his coat.

"That's the kind of mind we were dealing with. It took us three years to find him. Not because he was hiding—but because he was always prepared. He moved between warzones, harvested bodies, bought influence in the medical community. Even had a hand in forging battlefield recovery gear that still circulates today."

Kaine's voice grew quieter, harder.

"When we finally caught up to him, five years ago, he'd set up a 'research clinic' in an abandoned fortress. Thirty-four bodies were found inside. Most weren't dead yet. But they died later on."

More students recoiled, some covering their ears, others shaking visibly.

"That thirty-four was just a fraction was how many people died by his hands. 300 and more."

The shock was visible on the students faces.

"He didn't go down easy," Kaine said. "Despite everything, he fought. Not with strength—but with cruelty. Every trap, every tool he'd ever created was waiting for us. But in the end, we killed him. Burned the clinic to ash."

A long silence followed.

Then Seraphina gave a wistful sigh. "Such a beautifully twisted mind. If he weren't such a monster, I would've loved to pick it apart."

Kaine ignored her.

"We replicated him," he continued, "using a deep persona construct—built from interviews, records, fragments of his myst, and even a few relics he left behind. What you faced wasn't an illusion. It was a perfect mental profile, down to the madness."

He let the words settle. Everyone stood stiff, unsettled—most trying to keep their stomachs in place.

But Liam?

Still motionless. Unshaken. Eyes forward. Expression empty, yet somehow aware.

Kaine looked at him longer than the others.

"And yet," he muttered to himself more than anyone else, "you didn't even twitch…"

He stepped back, folding his arms again.

"Class dismissed."