Meanwhile, Arid sat at his desk, absentmindedly chewing on the end of his pen as he stared at his homework. “If I wanna get scouted, I need to stop slacking and actually get this done,” he muttered, flipping the page of his notebook.

  A sudden tap, tap, tap against his window made him freeze. His head snapped toward the sound.

  The hell?

  Slowly, he got up and walked over, peeking outside. A man stood beneath a tree, his figure barely illuminated by the dim streetlights.

  “Oh, hello, little boy!” the man called up, his voice unnervingly cheerful.

  Arid narrowed his eyes. “Uh… hello? What do you want?” His grip tightened on the windowsill, an uneasy feeling creeping up his spine.

  The man tilted his head back and forth as if studying him, then took a deep breath. His eyes suddenly glowed red.

  “Wanna play?” he asked, his voice dripping with eerie amusement.

  A shiver ran down Arid’s spine, his skin prickling with goosebumps. His fingers twitched at his side.

  “Uh… no.” His voice was steady, but his muscles tensed. “And if you don’t leave, I’ll deal with you myself.”

  Mordrain simply nodded, as if completely unfazed. “That’s fine… as long as you don’t turn your lights off.”

  Arid’s jaw tightened. Without another word, he shut the window and yanked the curtains closed, his heart pounding just a little faster than before.

  In the brightly lit holding cell, Mel, Althara, and Draven sat tensely, the weight of the situation pressing down on them.

  “He has the advantage in the dark,” Mel said, his arms crossed. “And it’s already night. We should stay put for now.”

  Draven, however, was busy scrolling through files on his laptop. “Mordrain…” he muttered, scanning the records. Then, his eyes widened. “Whoa—this is from Arthur Pendragon himself.”

  He read aloud: ‘Mordrain the Hollow. A violent psychopath who chooses his victims based on their lineage. He believes that those who rely on their parents’ strength don’t deserve to live.’

  Mel’s fists clenched as the realization sank in. “He kills people because of their parents’ strength? What a monster!” he growled.

  Draven quickly started counting on his fingers. “Auroria Dominion is full of kids from the new era… but who’s the strongest? That has to be his first target!”

  Mel’s eyes went wide with horror. Arid.

  Without hesitation, he spun on his heel and slammed his foot into the wall, shattering it into rubble. The night air rushed in as he shot into the sky.

  “ARID!” he yelled, his voice filled with desperation.

  Althara was right behind him, her aura flaring as she took off, and Draven followed suit, his dragon wings unfurling as he soared after them.

  Back in Arid’s dorm room, he sat on his bed, typing into the group chat with Lincoln and Renita.

  Arid: I dunno, some creep was outside my window. Told me to ‘play.’

  Lincoln: Want us to come over?

  Renita: I can be there in no time.

  Arid: Nah, I’ll be fine. I’m heading to bed anyway.

  With a sigh, he turned off his phone and stretched before walking over to his bed. He reached for his lamp but hesitated, his fingers hovering over the switch.

  “Wait… didn’t he say not to turn off my light?” he murmured to himself. His stomach twisted uneasily. “Why would I listen to some random weirdo anyway?”

  Shaking off the thought, he flipped off the lamp and lay down. The room was swallowed by darkness.

  “The dark is honest. It doesn’t lie to you like the light does. It doesn’t dress you up in bravery, in strength. No, the dark reveals you. Strips you down to the trembling child you’ve always been… waiting for the monsters to come.”

  Mordrain stood just outside Arid’s dorm room, peering in through the cracked door, his crimson eyes gleaming like dying embers. “I told you not to turn your light off.” His tongue flicked over his lips as he stepped forward.

  Arid jolted back, crouching defensively on his bed. “W-what the hell are you doing?!” he stammered.

  Mordrain took his time, dragging his fingers along the wall as he entered. “You know, I’ve been called many things—psychopath, murderer, Hollow Knight… I prefer pariah. Society discards men like me, but the truth is, I am society. I am its shadow. The proof that your heroes fail, over and over again.”

  He tilted his head, smirking. “I was told not to kill kids, but then I sensed you. The son of Mother Nature. Well, damn… you’re practically the pulse of this world, aren’t you?”

  Arid sprang to his feet, summoning a twisting vine that shot toward Mordrain like a spear. But before it could reach him, Mordrain sliced through it effortlessly with a shadow-forged blade.

  “Tsk tsk… predictable.” His voice was a whisper, sharp as a knife. The shadows around Arid flickered, and before he could react, they lunged—Mordrain’s darkness snatching hold of Arid’s own shadow like a leash.

  “You never stood a chance, little sprout.”

  Arid groaned, his body trembling as he struggled against the crushing grip of his own shadow. Why do I feel so weak? Why is he so strong?! Panic clawed at his chest.

  Mordrain leaned in, his fingers forcing Arid’s mouth open, tilting his head like a scientist studying a specimen. “Like I said… the dark strips away your bravado. It makes you small. Or maybe…” He smirked, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Maybe it’s just my magic. The darker it gets, the stronger I become.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Arid’s body grew heavy, his limbs numbing as an invisible force drained him from the inside out. A cold, sickly sensation spread through his veins. He gasped, then screamed.

  CRASH!

  “Don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

  Lincoln’s voice cut through the chaos as he slammed Arid’s entire bed into Mordrain, launching him through the wall with a deafening impact. The room shook from the force, dust and debris filling the air.

  Arid collapsed to the floor, his body twitching violently. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps.

  “Arid! Wake up!” Renita was at his side in an instant, shaking him before slapping his face. His eyes snapped open, pupils dilated, his breath hitching.

  “I—I felt him draining me!” His voice, usually so steady, cracked with raw fear. A rare sound from him.

  A low, guttural chuckle echoed from the rubble.

  Mordrain stood up, rolling his shoulders as he dusted himself off. “Pathetic.” His glowing red eyes locked onto Lincoln with disgust. “You don’t even have a strong lineage. You make me sick.”

  In the blink of an eye, he vanished.

  THUD!

  He reappeared behind Lincoln and drove a fist into his spine.

  Lincoln gasped, eyes widening in shock before blood spat from his mouth.

  Mordrain didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Lincoln by the collar and slammed him into the floor with bone-crunching force. The room trembled.

  “I expected more from the new era.” Mordrain scoffed, looming over them like a shadow given form.

  Suddenly, Althara crashed into Mordrain, tackling him with full force as they rolled across the floor in a chaotic blur.

  “Mausatwine!” she snarled—a wizard’s curse laced with fury—before hurling him out of the dorm with a powerful blast.

  Mordrain skidded across the hallway floor, slamming into the opposite wall with a thud, dust and debris swirling around him.

  “No powerful lineage, instead… a reliant sibling?!” Mordrain laughed maniacally, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “Not to mention, she’s also strong?! I have faith in this era again!” His laughter echoed through the hall as he raised his hand, his shadowy aura pulsing with intensity.

  Althara’s eyes narrowed, her fury building as she unleashed a barrage of cloudburst magic, sending an overwhelming storm of energy toward Mordrain. He crossed his arms, effortlessly absorbing the attack with a sneer.

  “I need to get prepared for this,” Mordrain said, his grin widening. With a snap of his fingers, he dissolved into a wave of darkness, vanishing from sight as if he were never there at all.

  “Dammit!” Althara growled, her fist crashing into the wall in frustration. She turned away, pacing back toward the room.

  Inside, Draven was frantically speaking into his phone, trying to reach King Aldara. “Yeah! The serial killer’s name is Mordrain! He did something to Arid, send help!” His voice was urgent, but there was a touch of desperation in it that Althara didn’t miss.

  Althara’s gaze shifted to Mel, who was crouched next to Arid’s body, his face a mask of intense concentration. Arid’s skin was pale, his energy completely drained, and his eyes fluttered shut.

  “He’s still alive,” Mel whispered, his voice tight with emotion as he held Arid close. He clutched the boy’s body protectively, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air.

  “But his energy… it’s completely gone,” Mel’s voice cracked as he spoke, the raw concern in his tone betraying the fear he was trying to hold back. His fingers trembled slightly as he gently cradled Arid, the reality of the danger sinking in.

  The following day, Mel sat beneath the canopy of trees, a plate of food resting on his lap. He glanced across at Arid, who was reclining against a tree, a branch carefully inserted into his median cubital vein. The branch hummed with a faint glow, channeling energy into Arid’s body. Mel took a bite of his food, his gaze fixed on Arid as the quiet atmosphere settled around them.

  “So… the branch is restoring your energy?” Mel asked, breaking the silence. Arid nodded faintly, his eyes half-lidded as he took slow, deliberate breaths.

  “I… I’m sorry,” Arid murmured, his voice weak. “For how I treated you before. For hating you for keeping Althara around. She… she really did her best against Mordrain, didn’t she?” His words were slow and labored, but there was a hint of genuine remorse in them. The vulnerability in his voice was a stark contrast to his usual guarded demeanor.

  Mel exhaled softly, his gaze distant. “I should’ve been more understanding,” he admitted. “I know how much fairness matters to you. When Althara beat all of you, you just wanted a fair fight—I get that now.” He let out a small chuckle and shifted closer, settling beside Arid.

  Arid sighed, inhaling deeply as if steadying himself. “I honestly thought I was done for,” he confessed. “And if I was… I didn’t want to go out with you thinking I was still mad at you.” His voice was quieter now, stripped of the usual bravado.

  Mel clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose. “I thought I was going to lose another friend,” he muttered, his fingers running through his hair before he covered his face with his hand. “Dorian going rogue, Elowen being kidnapped... If something happened to you too, I—” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “I think that would’ve been my breaking point.”

  A comfortable silence settled between them before Mel spoke again, more resolute this time. “It’s broad daylight, so we have the advantage. Everyone’s after him now. And you… you’ve got the strongest lineage out of all of us. I’m staying here in case he comes back.”

  Arid smirked weakly, the fire in his eyes barely flickering but still there. “Well, at least you got one thing right.” He yawned, shifting slightly before letting his head rest against Mel’s shoulder. “I am the strongest.” His voice was soft now, drifting on the edge of exhaustion. “At least someone strong like you… is protecting someone strong like me…”

  His breathing slowed, and within moments, he was asleep.

  Mel exhaled, tilting his head back against the tree, his eyes lost in the canopy above. “Arid… do you ever wonder if we’re too young for this?” His voice was quiet, weighed down by something deeper. “It’s like we’re always the ones saving the kingdom, like we’re the only ones strong enough. What happened to the people who were supposed to protect us? My dad, Elowen’s dad, Dorian’s dad… They were once the strongest, but now they’re just gone.” He clenched his fists. “Why is it kids—kids from all kinds of messed-up backgrounds—who have to deal with psychopaths and monsters? Shouldn’t the world be better than this?”

  Arid rubbed his eyes, letting out a tired sigh. “Maybe it’s because everyone’s corrupt as hell now,” he muttered. “It’s bad out here, Mel. Look at your life. Your father was a monster. That Goldman guy who trained you in Caldara? Absolute scum. And yet… you came out pure-hearted. How does that even happen?” He shook his head. “We’re the generation that has to clean up the mess the old era left behind.”

  With that, Arid yawned, shifting slightly before closing his eyes. “Guess that means we better be strong enough to do it…” he mumbled before drifting into sleep, leaving Mel alone with his thoughts.

  Deep within a dark, damp cave, Mordrain sat cross-legged, pressing a finger to his chin. Shadows flickered around him, mimicking his growing agitation.

  "A whole kingdom filled with strong people from this era!" he mused, his voice laced with amusement. But then his smirk faltered, his crimson eyes narrowing. "And yet… that kid hit me with a bed."

  He clenched his jaw, the memory gnawing at his pride. Lincoln Randolph—no special lineage, no ancient bloodline—just some kid who had the audacity to knock him through a wall. Mordrain's fingers twitched, and a sliver of blood floated before him, swirling like a drop of ink in water.

  He analyzed it, his expression shifting between intrigue and disgust. "A werewolf?" he muttered. "Bugia Kingdom? What the hell? His parents are just… normal wolves? No shapeshifting? No primal magic? Just fur and fangs?" He scoffed, flicking the blood away like it was worthless. "Screw that man. Donatello, who am I to follow orders? I say we rewrite the rules."

  His lips curled into a wicked grin as he rose to his feet, shadows clinging to his form like a living cloak. "I’ll kill this kid first." His grin widened, stretching unnaturally. "Then? I’ll kill all the kids." His laughter echoed through the cavern, a chilling promise of chaos to come.