The sun of the witches' domain was at its highest point when Kael entered the training center.

The courtyard was vast—a circle of white stone with golden runes inlaid in the edges, surrounded by crystal pillars that pulsed slowly, channeling arcane energy towards the sky. The surrounding mountains echoed the sounds of wind and magic, and an aroma of mana and challenge hung in the air.

Twenty-six witches awaited him in silence.

They were not apprentices. They were the masters of the training, responsible for instructing and shaping the new generations. Experienced, disciplined, and each one possessing their own mastery over an aspect of magic. The kind of opponent that anyone would consider impossible to face—much less all of them at once.

But Kael was not just anyone.

The shadows around him seemed to move as he stepped onto the central circle. The symbol beneath his feet reacted instantly, a subtle hum echoing through the arena as the golden runes lit up.

The leader of the instructors, a tall woman with white hair, stepped forward. Her gaze was firm, without arrogance, only respect.

"Prince Kael Scarlet... the Queen has ordered us to test your limits. None of us will go easy on you."

Kael looked up. His eyes, tinged with a dark glow, reflected serene confidence.

"Perfect. I don't intend to either."

He snapped his fingers.

At that instant, the shadows rose.

Not like smoke, not like an illusion—but like a living extension of himself.

They flowed from the ground, gliding over his body like liquid veils, rising up his arms and forming subtle outlines of blades, wings, and claws before dissolving back into the air.

The witches surrounded him in formation. Runes floated above each of their hands, lights of different colors igniting.

And then, the first offensive began. A roar of energy swept across the courtyard—bolts of fire, ice, and lightning crisscrossed the air simultaneously.

Kael moved.

The ground darkened beneath his feet, and in the blink of an eye, he plunged into his own shadow, reappearing three meters away, unharmed.

The first witch barely had time to react. He emerged behind her, his shadow extending like a blade. A touch—and the energy solidified into the form of a sword.

With a fluid movement, he touched her shoulder.

The impact wasn't lethal, but the contained force threw her backward, enveloped in a cocoon of shadows that dissipated before she hit the ground.

One down.

The other twenty-five attacked in unison.

Kael spun on his heel, and the shadows followed as if part of a dance—each of his gestures guided a movement of the darkness. They blocked spells, absorbed energy, and reformed into curved blades that spun around him like a living constellation.

Attacks came from all directions. Wind magic cut through the air, crystal spears were hurled, and the ground cracked with explosions of light.

Kael raised his hand.

His shadow expanded like a wave, covering the ground and climbing the walls.

The witches recoiled instinctively.

"Shadow is form," he murmured. "Shadow is echo. And I am both."

From within the darkness, silhouettes of himself emerged, ephemeral reflections that mimicked his movements—not clones, but momentary fragments of his presence. Each advanced in a different direction, deflecting attacks and dissipating magic.

The witches reacted quickly, dispelling the illusions one by one, but that was exactly what Kael wanted. While they were distracted by the illusory shadows, he slipped between them, teleporting from one shadow to another—his body disappearing and reappearing at different points, as if space could not contain him.

A beam of fire grazed him, and he spun his body in the air, using the momentum to land on his knees.

From the ground, darkness rose and enveloped his arm, forming a spear.

With a single movement, he hurled it.

The spear pierced the air, dissipating spells along the way, and struck one of the witches' energy fields with enough force to crack it.

The shield shattered, and the shadow dissolved before it could harm her—but the impact was enough to knock her down.

Two.

Kael took a deep breath, but exhaustion didn't overwhelm him.

With each attack, his connection to the shadows became more natural, more intimate.

It was as if a hidden symphony guided him—the rhythm of darkness and light colliding in harmony.

The next three witches conjured a sealing ritual. Golden circles formed around him, attempting to fix his shadow to the ground.

Kael smirked.

"Good move."

He raised his hand.

Instantly, his shadow split into multiple threads, snaking through the runes and breaking the seals as if tearing through veils of light. The ground trembled, and in response, the circle reversed—the runes glowed black, now obeying him.

A snap of his fingers—and the three witches were pulled into their own circle, briefly trapped by shadowy chains that dissolved before they could react.

Five.

Applause from the observers echoed around, but no one interrupted.

The leader of the instructors raised her staff.

"Enough of subtleties. Lunar formation!"

All twenty-one remaining lined up. The ground glowed with a network of complex runes, converging to the center. A collective magic.

The mana pressure in the air increased so much that the surrounding mountains seemed to echo the sound.

Kael looked up.

His eyes darkened completely.

The shadow around him began to spin, a silent whirlwind.

Every drop of darkness pulsed like living blood.

"Do you want to see what harmony with the void is?" he murmured.

The formation exploded with energy.

Spears of pure arcane light descended from the sky. The ground cracked. The runes roared.

Kael plunged into the shadow beneath his feet—and reappeared at the top of the training tower, watching the field being devastated by explosions of light. The dust rose, the sound echoed.

When the light dissipated, the witches gasped, searching for him.

And then, the shadow of the central pillar moved.

Kael emerged from it, like a fragment of night taking form.

Without a word, he opened his hands—and darkness spread, covering the entire arena floor like a black mirror.

Each witch saw her own shadow rise.

They weren't real copies, only controlled reflections—but they moved with terrifying precision, reproducing Kael's gestures in unison.

A dance of twenty-six echoes.

The reflections attacked with perfect synchronicity. The witches blocked, dodged, but it was like fighting against their own reflection—every defense they made, Kael anticipated even before it was executed.

The courtyard became a ballet of light and darkness.

Golden runes crossed the sky, black shadows tore at the ground.

Kael moved in the center, his body in absolute harmony with the flow of darkness—his feet barely touching the ground, the air vibrating around him with the soft sound of pure mana.

And then, at the height of the fight, he stopped.

The shadows froze.

Absolute silence.

With a gesture, Kael gathered them, as if pulling an invisible cloak back to his body.

The darkness enveloped him completely—and, in an instant, disappeared.

The leader of the witches looked around, trying to locate him.

But before she could realize it, Kael was behind her, the tip of a shadowy blade touching her throat.

She stopped, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender.

The others followed suit.

Kael sighed.

The blade dissolved into smoke, and the shadow returned to the ground, flowing smoothly like water.

For a moment, no one moved. The wind blew between the columns, carrying the distant sound of the mountains.

The leader broke the silence.

"Incredible… you don't fight against the shadows. You iare/i the shadow."

Kael gave a slight smile, his gaze calm.

"The shadow is not the absence of light. It is what gives it form."

The witches stared at him, exhausted but impressed.

The leader lowered her staff, bowing.

"The training is complete. None of us managed to even touch you."

Kael shook his head.

"If it were a real fight, it wouldn't be so simple. I still haven't fully mastered the balance between myself and it."

Umbra, who was watching invisibly from above, let out a soft laugh.

"Too modest, as always."

Kael ignored the comment, taking a deep breath.

The shadow beneath him seemed calmer now, stable.

Before, the use of magic left him exhausted, drained—now, it flowed in sync with his body.

There was no more resistance between the mage and the power.

He extended his hand, watching the darkness dance between his fingers.

It was cold, but it pulsed—alive, obedient, almost affectionate.

The leader approached, respectfully.

"May I ask… how did you achieve such harmony with such a volatile element?"

Kael gazed at the horizon, his expression distant.

"The shadow is not a servant. It is a partner. It does not respond to force, nor to fear. It responds to truth."

He clenched his fist, and the last trace of darkness dissipated into the air.

"And I have finally learned to listen to mine."

The witches bowed.

Kael turned, leaving the field in silence.

As he walked towards the exit, the twilight light streamed through the hall windows, casting his silhouette upon the floor.

The shadow accompanied him, calm, precise, and for the first time—complete.

It was more than power.

It was mastery.

It was belonging.

The Prince of Witches finally mastered his own emptiness.