The battlefield fell silent.
An eerie silence.
Not empty...
Peaceful.
The seven ancient panthers remained where they stood.
None of them spoke.
They simply watched me.
No...
They were observing.
Studying.
As though trying to understand something even they had never witnessed before.
The leader slowly stepped forward.
His hands once again came together before his chest.
The gesture was slower this time.
More solemn.
"We owe you a debt."
His calm voice echoed across the empty battlefield.
"A debt that can never truly be repaid."
I shook my head.
"I merely corrected my own mistake."
The lingering Authority had been mine.
Their soldiers had suffered because of me.
Calling it kindness felt inappropriate.
The leader smiled.
"That answer..."
"...is precisely why we chose correctly."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Chose?"
"The seven of us."
He glanced toward his companions.
"...have decided to personally oversee your training."
Before I could reply—
A soft sound interrupted us.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Someone was walking.
Nyxaroth.
Every step he took caused invisible ripples to spread beneath his feet.
Unlike before...
I could now perceive them.
Not with perfect clarity.
Only faintly.
But enough.
Enough to understand.
He wasn't walking through ordinary space.
He was stepping across folds hidden within the Realm itself.
My eyes unconsciously followed every movement.
Interesting...
Even after Seraphim had ended...
Its enlightenment still lingered.
Not the vision.
Not the overwhelming perception.
But the understanding.
Like someone who had once climbed a mountain.
Even after descending...
He could never again believe the world was flat.
Nyxaroth stopped beside us.
His ancient gaze rested on the leader.
A faint nod.
Permission.
The leader bowed respectfully.
Then Nyxaroth slowly turned toward my father.
"You've watched long enough."
His calm voice carried absolute certainty.
"If you delay any longer..."
A faint smile appeared.
"...your son will leave you behind."
Silence.
Father blinked.
Then—
"Hahaha..."
A hearty laugh escaped him.
"So that's your way of provoking me?"
Nyxaroth said nothing.
His smile answered everything.
Father looked at me.
There wasn't a trace of jealousy.
Only pride.
Pure, unmistakable pride.
His blue eyes shone brightly.
"My son..."
He muttered quietly.
"...you really don't know how to slow down."
He shook his head before laughing again.
"If I don't start training now..."
"...I'll lose the right to call myself your father."
BOOM!!
Nyxaroth vanished.
No—
He entered the Shadow Dimension.
A streak of darkness shot across the ground faster than sound.
Yet...
This time...
I could follow it.
Not with my eyes.
With my understanding.
The shadow wasn't moving.
It was slipping between layers of reality.
Father smiled one last time.
"Train well."
His figure exploded into motion.
BOOM!!
Unlike Nyxaroth...
He tore through the sky.
A streak of crimson lightning chased the retreating shadow below.
One above.
One below.
Shadow.
Lightning.
They disappeared into the distance.
Watching them leave...
A small smile unknowingly appeared on my face.
Then I turned around.
The seven ancient warriors were waiting.
Their leader took one final step forward.
His expression became completely serious.
"The Patriarch has entrusted you to us."
"So from this moment onward..."
"You are no longer our guest."
A brief pause.
"You are our disciple."
The remaining six stepped forward together.
For the first time...
All seven released a fraction of their presence.
BOOM!!
The entire Realm trembled.
The atmosphere became unimaginably heavy.
Not hostile.
Not oppressive.
Simply...
Ancient.
The leader looked directly into my eyes.
"What awaits you..."
"...is not combat."
"...not cultivation."
"...not survival."
Another pause.
"It is the complete rebirth of everything you think you know about shadows."
He slowly extended one hand toward me.
"Are you prepared..."
"...to step into darkness?"