CHAPTER 33: DEVOUR

The door to the private training hall shut with a low thud. Noah turned the heavy brass lock, sliding the bolt into place. A soft click echoed across the stone walls. No one would interrupt him here.

The training hall was larger than he expected. Rectangular in shape, with a high, vaulted ceiling lined with dim enchanted lamps.

The air inside was slightly cool, and his footsteps echoed faintly as he stepped across the smooth floor.

The walls bore faint scorch marks and gouges from past spells, and at the far end was a recessed viewing alcove, protected by a thick pane of enchanted glass.

It was a place for spectators to sit, protected, when someone practiced volatile or high-level spells.

Noah took a breath and walked to the center of the room.

This was it.

He reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out the B-rank spell parchment.

As his fingers brushed the surface, the black ink pulsed faintly with energy. The spell formation drawn on it shimmered, lines shifting in layered patterns as faint wisps of darkness curled off it like mist.

It was different from anything he’d seen before.

Noah sank to one knee, spreading the parchment across the floor in front of him. He studied it in silence. Circles within circles, curved runes interlocking with jagged glyphs. It was more intricate than Fireball by orders of magnitude.

He pulled out the scroll of parchment he’d brought, unrolling it, and began to copy the formation by hand.

For thirty minutes, he traced each rune, memorizing the angles, the intersections, and the rhythm of how each part fed into the next.

Every time his eyes closed, he tried to see it all again, not just the image but the structure behind it.

Finally, he stood.

It was time.

He tucked the parchment into his pocket and raised his hand, palm open toward the space in front of him. He drew a breath, reached inward, and pulled at the golden pool of mana within his core.

Slowly, carefully, he began.

A single rune blinked to life in the air, formed from pure black light.

Then another. A line. A small circle.

But just as the fourth symbol took shape, the entire spell collapsed with a crackle, the light sputtering out into nothing.

Noah lowered his hand, blinking. "Huh."

Even with his S-rank magic control, the spell had fallen apart.

He tried again.

This time, he made it further, nearly ten percent of the formation. The glow held for a moment, and then, again, it failed. The pieces shattered and vanished.

But this time, Noah smiled.

"That’s progress."

He clenched his fist, pulled more mana, and tried again.

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Noah stood in the center of the training hall, breath steady, arms aching from repetition.

His eyes were focused, every failure chiseled into his muscles like memory.

For nearly an hour, he’d tried and failed. Again and again. Mana shaped into the runes, only to shatter in his palm.

He tweaked, adjusted, restructured the lines with microscopic precision. He erased the flaws, fixed the angles, anchored the mana just right.

And now, finally, the complete spell formation hovered above his hand.

It pulsed in the air like a heart made of shadow.

The runes glowed a deep violet-black, layers of curved glyphs rotating slowly in synchrony. Wisps of darkness licked the edges of the spell formation, trailing upward like smoke.

It was beautiful. And dangerous. He wasn’t sure he would have even been able to form the spell formation if not for his S-rank magic control.

Noah didn’t cast it right away.

He closed his eyes first.

He focused, recalling the image he wanted. Not just the form, but the purpose. The intent. The hunger. The devouring force he wished to call upon.

Spells needed intent. Without it, they would fall apart. It wasn’t like a skill that came from within. A spell was a language, and to speak it clearly, you had to mean it.

He inhaled, steadying the mana flowing through his veins. Then, he opened his eyes.

The formation clicked into place.

He activated it.

A rush of power surged down his arm as the spell drank from his mana core, not violently, but not gently either. It was a clean draw, sharp and swift, and Noah felt a piece of his energy leave him.

The spell circle vanished from the air.

And then, the floor beneath his feet darkened.

A perfect sphere of darkness spread outward, pooling like ink across the smooth stone, with Noah standing at its heart. Then, Darkness curled outward like a living thing.

Hands rose. Massive claws of shadow, each the size of a man, burst from the dark sphere and reached out in all directions, grasping at the air.

They clutched and released, their fingers writhing. A cold wind blew from the center of the spell, swirling around Noah, sending his jacket flapping behind him.

The air in the room thrummed, shivering at the power of the spell.

Mists of black vapor hissed and curled above the ground.

Noah stood still, eyes wide with wonder. The spell responded to him. It was his.

Then, with an exhale, he severed the mana flow.

The hands dissolved. The darkness shrank inward. The mist faded, and the wind died down, leaving only silence.

Noah blinked. Then smiled.

He lifted his hand and called forth the status screen.

It opened at once, and his eyes scanned it quickly.

[Status:]

[Noah Webb]

[Race: Dark Dragon]

[Rank: FFF]

[Potential: FFF]

[Affinities: Darkness, Fire, Void, Decay, Hunger.]

[Core Attributes:]

[Strength: FFF]

[Endurance: FFF+]

[Agility: FF-]

[Mana Capacity: S]

[Magic Control: S]

[Skills: Roar (FFF-Rank)]

[Spells: Fireball(F-rank), Flame Spark(FFF-rank), Devour(B-rank)]

There it was. The evidence that he’d done it.

His smile widened. "Finally."

He checked his pocket, already knowing what he’d find. The spell parchment had crumbled into soft gray dust.

He flicked it away with his fingers.

It was done.

With the spell in his arsenal, he felt lighter. Safer. More dangerous.

Noah turned away from the center of the room, heading for the exit.

He’ll sleep well tonight. For the first time since coming to this world... he had real power.