When she woke, Milisael's body was still filled with pain. A stone chamber. Ancient characters carved into the walls. Faint purple light glowing in the grooves of the floor. The scene was unchanged from yesterday, yet she herself—the one standing within it—had transformed irrevocably. The soul mark etched on her left wrist—the pattern of innate magical power—glowed more vividly than the night before. When she touched that mark, something deep within answered. New power. New pain. "Are you ready?" A low voice descended through the open doorway. It was . His long silver hair caught the morning light, reflecting it in brilliant waves. His eyes—deep ash-gray—held her completely, as though seeing through every layer of her being. "Yes." answered. Her voice was polite, but beneath it lay a tremor she could not hide. Fear. Anxiety. And an oddly heightened tension. Serislan nodded. Even that gesture was perfect, without waste. He adjusted his garments and gestured toward the tower's corridor. "The training grounds on the second floor. That is where your true training begins." rose to her feet. Until yesterday, she would not have obeyed so readily. Raised as a saint, she had always been denied the freedom to question others' commands. But now even that was meaningless. There was no path back to the Church. With the Fallen Saint Proclamation upon her, she was not permitted to even set foot on the holy city's stone streets. She had no choice but to remain here. She climbed the stairs. They were ancient and cold, their stone worn smooth by countless footsteps. Her footfalls echoed in regular rhythm. Deep within the Elgnoir Forest—the eastern forest of the continent where darkness dwelt—lay this ruin. Once a training ground for dark sorcerers, it had been sealed away by the Holy Church. Yet Serislan had succeeded in breaking that seal for reasons of his own. In truth, he had once been the master of this tower. Serislan Valentis, an ancient dark sorcerer who had reached the pinnacle of dark magic, had constructed this training ground centuries ago. Later, it had been sealed once by the Church's persecution. But Serislan was nearly immortal. Over long years, he had gradually eroded the seal from within, until at last he achieved complete liberation. Now it functioned as his secret base. The second-floor training grounds were vast. The ceiling soared high, and the walls were unified in white limestone. Yet that perfection differed from the holy sanctuaries of light magic. This was a space that rejected light. There were no windows, no visible light sources, and yet a faint purple luminescence filled the entire chamber. That light emanated from someone's magical power. From dark magic. Complex patterns were carved into the floor. Geometric lines covered its entirety. They resembled circuits, or perhaps the steps of a dance. When had first seen them, she could not comprehend them. But now was different. Those patterns were devices to channel magical power—mediums for activating spells. "This is the foundation of dark magic," explained. His voice remained low and composed. "Light magic requires incantation. One weaves holy words and makes contact with sacred seal-marks, drawing magical power from the light source. But dark magic is different. No incantation is needed. Only blood." He raised his own left hand, gripping a short dagger. The silver blade gleamed faintly. "Blood is the fluid of the soul. By using it as a catalyst, one can connect directly with the dark source. But there is a price. Each time you use it, your emotions are worn away. Joy, sorrow, love. They gradually fade." listened in silence. Last night, she had heard fragments of this from Serislan. But the weight of his words, spoken here in the training grounds, was something else entirely. "Use it long enough, and eventually you lose all emotion. That state is called *utsusemi*—the empty cicada. You retain human form, but inside you are hollow. Merely a tool." "I understand." Serislan gripped the dagger. His movement was efficient, swift. He placed his finger against the blade and drew it across in one fluid motion. Fresh blood fell. The red droplet made contact with the pattern on the floor. In that instant, everything changed. The entire floor blazed with red light. Not the white light of light magic, but a deep crimson that seemed to make darkness itself visible. Shadows began to writhe. The patterns covering the floor were engulfed in light, and from within them, something rose. A collection of shadows. Formless, yet undeniably present. "This is dark magical power. Now you try." extended the dagger toward . The gesture was elegant, yet absolute. There was no possibility of refusal. took the dagger. Her hand trembled. As she placed her finger against the blade, she hesitated. *(Is this truly the right choice?)* That question dominated her mind for only a moment. But the answer was already determined. There was no turning back now. She drew the blade across her finger. The pain was shallower than she had anticipated. Yet that pain spread instantly. Blood flowing from her finger fell upon the floor's pattern. In that moment, something moved within her body. It was entirely different from the awakening of light magic. Light magic was gradual. A gentle warmth spreading through the body, power filling slowly. But dark magic was different. It was a tsunami. Riding through her blood, dark magical power raced through her entire being. Searing agony assaulted . She screamed. "Uaaaaaahhhhh!" That cry was not the scream of a human, but rather the sound of something breaking. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor. Her entire body convulsed. "Concentrate. Do not be consumed by the power." 's voice remained unmoved. He stood beside her, giving instructions calmly. "Magical power obeys will. If you do not control it, it will run wild. Light magic can survive that. Light is gentle. But darkness is not. If darkness consumes you, you will cease to exist." clenched her teeth. In the midst of the pain, she fought desperately to maintain consciousness. The soul mark on her left wrist blazed with intense light. It was a sign of her connection to Serislan—a chain dragging her into hell, yet simultaneously the only handhold keeping her from falling. "Breathe. Do not inhale the power. Exhale. In that moment, control the power." 's instructions were precise. As though he understood completely what suffering she was experiencing. steadied her breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Gradually, the acute pain began to ease. It did not disappear entirely, remaining in the depths of her body, but it transformed from a tsunami of agony overwhelming her entire being into a localized pain. She opened her eyes. A shadow floated above her palm. A small sphere. Perfect black. It absorbed light—dark magical power released from 's fingers. Power she had created with her own blood, by her own will. "For a first day, that was respectable." offered his assessment. His voice carried a faint note of satisfaction. was exhausted. The shadow sphere in her palm dissipated, and she collapsed onto the floor. Her entire body ached. Blood was flowing. Yet she was aware of something far more significant than the pain. She had mastered dark magic. With her light magic lost, new power had taken root within her. Not light, but darkness. Power forbidden by the Church, feared by the people. Yet it was becoming undeniably hers. As dusk fell. was carried from the training grounds to another chamber—her bedroom. had lifted her body effortlessly in his arms. In that moment, 's consciousness was unclear. Her mind was hazy, and only the pain throughout her body felt real. Yet in that moment, she became aware of one thing. The warmth of being held in 's arms. His body heat. His heartbeat. These things eased her pain, if only slightly. At midnight. could not sleep. Pain still dominated her entire body. Medical salve had been applied, yet the pain would not fade. It was not physical pain, but the pain of the soul. The pain of dark magical power beginning to take root within her. She slipped from her bed. Walking was difficult, but she made her way through the tower's corridors and climbed the stairs. The fifth floor. The tower's highest point. It was a rooftop. The night sky spread before her. The moon hung high, its light illuminating the earth. And stars—countless stars filled the night sky. More stars than could ever be seen in the holy city of Lucevila. Only here, deep within the Elgnoir Forest, where there was no light pollution, could the heavens' light reach the earth unfiltered. "Cannot sleep?" 's voice came from behind her. He was already here, standing at the rooftop's edge, gazing at the night sky. "No," answered. She moved closer to him. The distance between them was two meters. did not turn his gaze toward her, only continued to watch the sky. "I am afraid of having my emotions worn away." spoke honestly. Her voice was polite, yet emotion seeped through its depths. That manner of speaking expressed her very nature. fell silent for a moment. Then he spoke. "Then remember beautiful things while you still can." He pointed toward the starry sky. "Even if you lose emotion, memory remains. What you treasured, what you loved. Those things do not disappear. They remain eternally in memory." gazed at the stars. A sky full of stars. Countless lights pierced the black canopy like holes torn through cloth, glimmering endlessly. That light had been emitted thousands of years ago. The light of stars long since extinguished now reached her eyes. "It is beautiful..." Those words came from the depths of her heart. Her voice caught. Emotion infused every syllable. "A user of dark magic, if they use it long enough, will lose emotion. But before that happens, if you remember what you felt—if you hold that memory—then perhaps one day, just perhaps, you might reclaim your emotions." 's words offered both hope and cold reality. He said "one day." But whether that day would truly come, no one could know. There was only the possibility. gazed at 's profile. A perfectly sculpted face. Hair gleaming silver. Eyes of cold ash-gray. Yet in those eyes, something faint was reflected. Something toward her. Obsession, perhaps, or something else entirely. She decided to commit this moment to memory. This night, standing beside , gazing at the stars. His words. His presence. These things she would never forget. Even if the day came when she lost her emotions, this memory alone would remain carved within her. Meanwhile, beyond the forest. At the boundary of the Elgnoir Forest. The line where trees met grassland. There, a single man made camp. . A light knight of the Kardina Kingdom—one who served the Church's directly affiliated order of knights. Hair flowing in silver-gray. Eyes of ice-blue. A battle scar marking his right cheek. A black seal-mark on his left ear—the mark of a light knight. Everything spoke of his station. He gazed into the campfire. The flames burned red, swaying gently. Following their movement, he thought. *(Her, in such a place. Under such a man.)* He had confirmed that had vanished into the forest's depths. The man who had been there—. A user of dark magic. One of the most dangerous individuals on the continent. Orders had come from the Church. "Do not pursue the Fallen Saint. Do not involve yourself." But had no intention of obeying. He understood the reasoning behind that order. According to the Church's doctrine, those bearing the Fallen Saint Proclamation were "those who have already lost divine protection," and thus fell outside the scope of salvation. In other words, to pursue would contradict the Church's fundamental faith. From the Church's perspective, rather than saving a lost soul, one should sever all ties with one who had fallen. Most light kn