Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

High marble walls ensured absolute privacy from the prying eyes of the city, and the Vanguard’s perimeter patrols guaranteed safety.

Seraphina led the way to a large, circular stone patio surrounded by blooming rose bushes and a bubbling fountain.

Castor immediately threw himself onto a stone bench, sprawling out, soaking in the sun.

Pollux chose to stand in the shade of a large oak tree, leaning against the trunk, crossing his arms and attempting to look like a dangerous, mysterious rogue.

Seraphina sat down on the edge of the fountain, crossing her legs. Ignis jumped up beside her, resting his head on her lap.

Castor sat up, his amber eyes locking onto the pink puppy.

”Wait a second,” Castor squinted, pointing a finger at the snoring ball of fluff. ”Is that... is that Ignis? Dad’s apex fire-spirit?”

”Yup,” Seraphina nodded, gently petting the puppy’s warm, ashy ears. ”He’s my dog now. He likes belly rubs. too.”

”No way! He was a forty-foot hellhound!” Castor gasped, leaping off the bench and running over, dropping to his knees to stare at the tiny dog in absolute awe. ”He burned down an entire training camp last year! How did you turn him into a puffball?!”

”I told him to be quiet,” Seraphina answered honestly, her mind highly amused by the boy’s fanaticism.

”You are insane,” Castor breathed, looking at her as if she were a god. ”You have to show us your magic. Seriously! Dad won’t stop talking about how powerful you are. Do something cool! Shoot a shadow! Break a rock!”

From the shade of the oak tree, Pollux let out a quiet, scoffing sound.

”Magic is not a toy for parlor tricks, Castor,” Pollux muttered darkly, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes. ”True power is a burden. It is the manifestation of the abyss within our souls. Only those who have embraced the darkness can truly comprehend the weight of their own mana.”

Seraphina slowly turned her head.

She looked at the twelve-year-old edgelord leaning against the tree.

Her inner adult was practically vibrating with secondhand embarrassment. ’He is trying so hard to be the tragic protagonist. I can’t take it. I have to break him a little to satisfy myself.’

”If you know so much about the abyss, Pollux,” Seraphina challenged, tilting her head, her voice adopting a tone of sweet, innocent curiosity. ”Why don’t you show me? Show me your dark, burdensome magic.”

Pollux stiffened.

He hadn’t expected to be called out twice in ten minutes.

Castor grinned wickedly, completely willing to throw his twin under the carriage. ”Yeah, Polly! Show the little Sovereign your ultimate, dark, tortured soul magic! Do the thing you’ve been practicing in the dorm room mirror!”

”Shut up, Castor! I do not practice in the mirror!” Pollux hissed, his face turning bright red again.

But his pride was on the line.

The tiny, six-year-old girl was looking at him expectantly. He had to prove he was a dark, brooding master of the arcane!

Pollux pushed himself off the tree.

He took a wide, dramatic stance.

He raised his hands, curling his fingers into claw-like shapes, squeezing his eyes shut in an expression of intense, agonizing concentration.

”Behold,” Pollux intoned, trying to make his pre-pubescent voice sound raspy and demonic. ”The manifestation of my eternal sorrow. The Black Flame of the Void!”

He pushed his mana forward.

He gritted his teeth. He channeled every ounce of his twelve-year-old angst into his palms.

Pffft!

A tiny, pathetic, sputtering cloud of grayish-black smoke erupted from his hands.

It hovered in the air for exactly two seconds, smelling faintly of burnt toast, before completely dissipating in the warm garden breeze.

There was no flame. There was no void.

There was just a sad, smoky fart of magical energy.

The garden fell completely silent.

Castor clapped his hand over his mouth, his face turning purple as he actively fought the urge to explode into hysterical laughter.

Pollux stood frozen, his hands still raised in claw shapes, staring at the empty air where his ’Black Flame’ had died.

The tragic, edgy persona completely shattered, replaced by the horror and humiliation of a pre-teen boy failing a trick in front of an audience.

Seraphina looked at the empty air.

She looked at Pollux’s horrified, blushing face.

She didn’t laugh or didn’t mock him.

She executed a maneuver far more devastating.

She delivered pure, patronizing pity for the boy.

”Aww,” Seraphina cooed, her voice dripping with sweet, grandmotherly sympathy. She slid off the fountain, waddled over to the humiliated twelve-year-old, and gently patted his knee. ”It’s okay, Pollux. Magic is hard. Maybe you just need a nap? Or a glass of warm milk? Papa says tired boys can’t do big spells.”

Pollux looked down at the tiny girl patting his knee.

The sheer condescension radiating from her innocent face was the most devastating psychological blow he had ever sustained.

”I... I am not tired!” Pollux squeaked, his voice completely breaking, stepping back from her comforting pats as if she were made of acid and poison. ”The... the ambient humidity interfered with my combustion ratio! It was a highly complex spell!”

Castor could no longer hold it in.

He fell backward onto the grass, clutching his stomach, howling with absolute, breathless laughter.

”A nap!” Castor wheezed, kicking his legs in the air. ”She told the Lord of the Void he needs a glass of warm milk! I am writing a letter to the entire Academy! You are finished this time, Polly!”

”I hate you both,” Pollux mumbled miserably, burying his flushed face in his hands, completely abandoning his edgy posture to slump down onto the stone bench, thoroughly defeated by a six-year-old.

Seraphina smiled, walking back to her spot on the fountain.

’Target neutralized,’ she thought smugly.

”All right~! Now, it’s my turn!” Castor cheered, jumping up from the grass, eager to show off. ”I don’t do that brooding garbage! Watch this, little Sovereign! The might of the Pure Valen firepower!”

Castor didn’t take a dramatic stance.

He just laughed, raising his right hand, his amber eyes flashing with genuine talent. He was loud and obnoxious, but he was undeniably a prodigy of the Flame.

FWOOSH~!

A massive, roaring sphere of bright, blazing crimson fire erupted from his palm.

The heat washed over the patio. Castor manipulated the flames with effortless, fluid control, twisting the fire into the shape of a soaring phoenix.

The fire-bird did a loop in the air, its wings leaving trails of sparkling embers, before diving down and exploding into a harmless, beautiful shower of golden sparks above the fountain.

”Ta-da!” Castor grinned, taking a theatrical bow.

”That was very pretty, Castor,” Seraphina clapped politely, genuinely impressed by his control, though it was nothing compared to Leonidas’s raw power.

”Your turn now, Seraphina!” Castor demanded, running over and sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of her. ”Show us the dark stuff! Show us how you beat the demon!”

Pollux peeked through his fingers from the bench, his curiosity temporarily overriding his humiliation.

Seraphina looked at the two eager boys.

She couldn’t show them her true power.

If she unleashed the Supreme Dark Core here, it would likely shatter the wards on the estate and alert the entire Capital to her registration lie.

But she also couldn’t just do nothing.

She had to establish dominance and had to show them that while they were playing with fire, she was the master of the shadows!

”Okay,” Seraphina agreed softly. ”But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Papa says my magic is a secret.”

”I swear on my fire,” Castor promised instantly, crossing his heart.

Pollux nodded slowly from the bench, his eyes wide.

Seraphina closed her eyes. She didn’t summon a massive wave of destruction or didn’t unleash the void.

She used the finest control of her dark mana.

She reached into the shadows cast by the large oak tree, the stone benches, and the fountain.

The boys watched in silent, breathless awe as the shadows actively detached themselves from the physical objects. The darkness peeled off the grass like ribbons of black silk, slithering across the patio, converging at Seraphina’s feet.

She didn’t make a monster.

She didn’t make a weapon.

She wove the shadows together, compressing the dark mana until it took physical form.

Standing in front of her, perfectly crafted from pure darkness, were three identical, highly detailed, perfectly proportioned shadow-ducks.