---
Draven walked the empty streets alone, the city lights casting long shadows that seemed to reach toward him. The 7th Form at his hip felt different now — heavier, warmer, alive with the new violet threads pulsing just beneath the black surface. Every few steps, the sword gave a faint thrum, as if tasting the night air for more blood.
He stopped under a flickering streetlamp and drew the blade halfway. The black edge shimmered with delicate veins of deep violet, like cracks of dawn breaking through midnight. It was beautiful in a dangerous way.
"…Faster than I thought," he muttered to himself.
A low, ancient voice echoed faintly in his mind — not words, but intent from the 7th Form itself. *More. Need more.*
Draven sheathed it quickly, jaw tightening. "Not tonight."
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw Lira's message:
**Lira:** Made it inside safe~ Don't stay up brooding too long, okay? And remember — text me tomorrow morning. No disappearing! 😊 Sweet dreams, Shadow Slayer.
A faint, rare softness crossed his face. He typed back slowly:
**Draven:** Got home. Shoulder fine. Will text. Rest.
He stared at the short reply for a moment, then added one more line before sending:
**Draven:** Today wasn't bad.
He pocketed the phone and continued walking toward his quiet apartment on the edge of the city. The night felt heavier than usual. The violet shift was already drawing attention — he could sense it in the way the shadows seemed to watch him.
---
Back in her cozy apartment, Lira flopped onto her bed, still in her sundress, staring at the ceiling with a mix of excitement and worry. She reread Draven's messages and smiled softly.
"He actually replied with more than three words," she whispered to herself, giggling. "Progress."
She sat up and grabbed her laptop from the nightstand, typing quickly into the search bar: "ancient sword legends 99 colors" and "monster cave sword users disappeared." Old forum posts and blurry scanned pages from forgotten books popped up — nothing concrete, but enough to make her frown.
"One day I'll find something useful," she murmured, determination in her voice. "He won't have to do this alone forever."
---
The next morning came too quickly.
Draven stood in his sparse apartment, the 7th Form unsheathed and resting on a simple wooden stand. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, highlighting the violet threads that had spread further overnight. The black was no longer pure — it now carried a subtle, shifting undertone, like ink mixed with amethyst.
He raised the sword and performed a slow practice slash. The arc that tore through the air was no longer solid black. It flickered with hints of violet at the edges — deeper, sharper, almost alive. The power felt cleaner, more precise.
*Good,* the sword seemed to whisper. *Stronger.*
Draven lowered the blade, breathing evenly. "But noticeable."
His phone buzzed again. Lira:
**Lira:** Good morning! How's the shoulder? And more importantly — how's the sword looking today? Any new colors? Send proof! Also, breakfast? My treat if you're free later 😉
Draven stared at the message. He took a quick photo of the 7th Form (carefully cropping out any dangerous details) and sent it with a short reply:
**Draven:** Shoulder better. Violet spreading. Breakfast… maybe.
Before he could put the phone away, another message arrived — this one from an unknown number.
**Unknown:** The black stage has been seen. The cave stirs. Meet at the old warehouse district tonight at midnight. Come alone. — A friend who survived the seven.
Draven's eyes narrowed. He deleted the message immediately, but the words lingered.
He typed to Lira instead:
**Draven:** Busy tonight. Stay safe.
Lira replied almost instantly:
**Lira:** Busy? Draven… is everything okay? You're not going after something alone again, are you? Remember our deal — petals and shadows, team stuff. At least tell me where you're going?
Draven hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. He finally sent:
**Draven:** Old warehouse. Midnight. Don't follow.
He sheathed the 7th Form, the violet threads pulsing with quiet hunger.
Outside, the city continued its normal day — people heading to work, cars honking, birds singing.
But in the monster realm, the ancient cave glowed brighter with violet light. Cracks spread across the stone walls.
New monsters stirred, drawn by the scent of evolving power.
And somewhere in the shadows of the warehouse district, eyes that had once belonged to one of the lost seven waited.
---
**To be continued...**