CELESTIA — CHAPTER 42 : The Knight of Shadows and the Blade of the Void
The weeks that followed the Council's decision were not ordinary weeks.
They were a slow combustion.
As if the entire world had been placed above an invisible fire, and every student of the Academy was now condemned to burn until they became stronger… or were reduced to ashes.
At the Paladin Academy, days had lost their softness.
Morning no longer truly existed. Neither did night.
There was only training.
Inside the immense halls of black stone where Fumetsu flowed, the air constantly vibrated with blessed energy. Blue lightning crackled against the walls. Impacts echoed like explosions of war. The cries of effort, broken breaths, the sound of weapons and bodies striking the ground formed a brutal melody that had become everyday life.
The students of Zenith Class now lived in a permanent state of exhaustion.
Their hands trembled for no reason sometimes. Their muscles burned even at rest. Sleep itself had become a battlefield.
But nobody dared to stop.
Because behind every training session hid the same fear:
failure.
And in this world, failure meant death.
At the center of the great training hall, Azel silently observed the students. His long dark coat fluttered slightly beneath the currents of Fumetsu. His cold gaze moved across each of them like a blade capable of reading their weaknesses.
Standing before him were Zayn, Cynthia, and Yojuro.
The atmosphere around the group was heavy.
Even Zayn, usually incapable of staying serious for more than a few seconds, remained silent.
Azel finally spoke.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
— The advanced exams are not a school test. They are not exercises meant to help you improve. They are gates opened toward something far worse.
He took a few slow steps.
— Many of you will leave parts of yourselves there. Some will lose their dreams. Others their minds. And some… simply will never return.
The silence became even heavier.
In the distance, only the dull impacts of other students continuing to train could be heard.
Azel slightly turned his head.
— Jessica is living proof of that. Fumetsu rewards willpower… but it devours hesitation.
Zayn, sitting against a cracked pillar, wiped the sweat running down his face. His breathing was uneven.
— Then we don't really have a choice anymore… he finally said with a tired laugh. We become monsters… or we die trying.
Cynthia slowly raised her eyes toward him.
She was not smiling.
Even her usual confident expressions seemed dimmer than before.
Azel placed a hand on Zayn's shoulder.
— No.
His voice was firm.
— You are not becoming monsters.
His icy eyes glimmered faintly.
— You are becoming Paladins. And there is a vast difference between the two.
Those words remained suspended in the air.
Like a promise.
Or perhaps a condemnation.
---
Three weeks later.
The sun struck violently against the Academy's outdoor training grounds.
The heat slightly distorted the air above the white stone.
At the center of the field, Zayn was fighting against himself.
His body constantly changed.
One second earlier, he was Canonroll.
Massive. Dense. Monstrous.
His armored body pulverized rocks with every movement. The ground cracked beneath his colossal charges, and every impact unleashed shockwaves that swept dust away for several meters.
Then suddenly—
his body disintegrated into green light.
Venostinger appeared.
Fast. Terrifying. Almost invisible.
The air screamed around him as he crossed the field at supersonic speed. Luminous trails tore through space behind his movements. Even the instructors struggled to follow him with their eyes.
Then came Crystal Hedge.
Gigantic violet crystals erupted from the ground in dazzling crashes. Entire structures formed around him, magnificent and dangerous at once, like cathedrals of glass born from divine wrath.
Zayn was now chaining Primals together in real time.
Without pauses.
Without visible transitions.
As if multiple creatures lived simultaneously inside the same body.
But the price remained terrifying.
With every transformation, his veins darkened. His breathing broke apart. Sometimes violet blood slowly flowed from his nose or the corner of his lips.
His Blessed Energy Disorder still resisted.
Like a curse refusing to die.
Finally, after one last explosion of light, Zayn fell to his knees in his human form.
The ground slightly cracked beneath the impact.
He was breathing heavily.
His new Paladin uniform — deep black, crossed with glowing green lines — was soaked with sweat and covered in dust.
But despite the exhaustion…
he smiled.
A sincere smile.
Tired. Fragile. But real.
Azel observed the scene from afar, his arms crossed.
For a few seconds, a discreet emotion crossed his usually icy gaze.
Pride.
Perhaps even hope.
— You are progressing, Zayn Al-Kage.
His voice was low.
— This is no longer simple survival. You are finally beginning to master your power.
Zayn slowly raised his head.
Azel continued:
— Continue like this… and even your Blessed Energy Disorder will eventually bend before you.
Those words touched Zayn more deeply than he wanted to admit.
Because deep down…
he had always been afraid.
Afraid that his own power would destroy him before he could protect anyone.
Not far from the field, Yojuro silently observed the scene.
His new black coat slowly fluttered beneath the hot wind. An elegant cape fell behind his shoulders, and on his chest shone the white symbol of the Paladins.
At his waist rested a strange katana.
Even motionless, the weapon seemed to absorb the surrounding light.
Yojuro kept his eyes fixed on Zayn.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Very far away.
His gaze seemed heavier than before.
As if something were slowly growing inside the darkness of his soul.
---
A few days later.
Yojuro left the Academy alone.
Officially, it was a reconnaissance mission.
In reality…
he was running away.
Not from his comrades. Not from his responsibilities.
He was fleeing the whispers.
Lucifer was becoming more violent every day.
More present.
Sometimes, Yojuro heard his voice even in absolute silence.
A calm voice. Ancient. Patient.
A voice that seemed to be waiting for the perfect moment to completely devour him.
So he walked.
For days.
Then weeks.
He crossed cities suspended in the sky where colored neon lights illuminated eternal nights. In the narrow alleys, minor djinns hid behind wary gazes while forbidden markets sold cursed relics and fragments of ancient miracles.
Then he crossed forgotten mountain villages where time seemed frozen for centuries. The inhabitants spoke little. Some observed Yojuro as if they recognized something inside him.
Something ancient.
Then came the deserts.
Infinite stretches of black sand where the wind whispered dead prayers and abandoned curses.
His boots wore down. His body grew exhausted. But he kept moving forward.
Because deep inside…
he knew exactly where he needed to go.
---
England.
The gray sky seemed to crush the world beneath its weight.
Light rain fell as Yojuro finally arrived before the ruins.
An ancient forgotten fortress.
Broken arches. Moss-covered stones. Statues beheaded by time.
The place breathed memory.
Every stone seemed to contain the echo of knights dead long ago.
Yojuro slowly walked toward the center of the ruins.
And suddenly—
the memories returned.
His childhood.
The endless training.
The cold.
The blood on his hands.
The promises he once made.
The people he failed to save.
The loneliness.
Always the loneliness.
The wind blew through the ruins like a sigh from another age.
Yojuro gently placed his hand on the guard of his katana.
Then he whispered:
— Knights never abandon.
His voice sounded almost sacred.
He slowly closed his eyes.
Fumetsu began flowing around him.
Silent. Dense. Immense.
Then, with a precise movement, he traced an invisible symbol through the air.
Space immediately cracked apart.
A luminous fracture appeared before him, like a scar opened within reality itself.
Inside…
rested a sword.
Sleeping for centuries.
The Void Sword.
Yojuro slowly extended his hand.
The moment his fingers touched the handle—
the world exploded.
A wave of power instantly swept through the ruins.
The stones began levitating. The sky trembled. The wind violently changed direction.
Glowing violet marks appeared across Yojuro's body, climbing along his arms like living roots before reaching his neck and face.
His eyes became completely violet.
Not human.
Ancient.
Terrifying.
The Void Sword slowly emerged from the dimensional fracture.
Its black blade seemed to swallow light itself, while a glowing violet line crossed its center like a scar of pure energy.
Forgotten symbols illuminated one by one along the blade.
And at that moment—
Yojuro's power multiplied tenfold.
The entire atmosphere itself seemed incapable of enduring his presence.
Even the ruins trembled before him.
But for the first time in years…
Yojuro smiled.
A real smile.
Not the cold and distant one he showed the world.
No.
This one was different.
Nostalgic.
Sad.
Almost happy.
Like the smile of a man finally recovering a lost piece of himself.
He slowly raised the Void Sword before his eyes.
The blade projected a pure violet light into the dark ruins.
— Finally…
His voice slightly trembled.
— I can move forward… without fearing you anymore, Lucifer.
The wind blew harder.
As if the ancient knights themselves were answering that silent call.
For a long moment, Yojuro remained motionless beneath the gray rain, the sword in hand.
And for the first time in a long while…
his heart felt lighter.
But very far away—
within the depths of forbidden dimensions—
someone had felt that birth.
Error.
Inside the infinite darkness where he resided, his smile slowly widened.
And the shadows around him began laughing alongside him.