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Chapter 56 - Trial by Darkness

It was nighttime and just like the night before, they were still walking along their journey, but unlike daytime, they were much more tense... well, Arthur was. Shadows stretched across the endless field, creating pockets of complete darkness between the silvery illuminated petals.

But despite the fear and uncertainty that nighttime brings, Arthur felt his mind being distracted. He thought about his spar, his weakness, his unrealistic goals, and more than the rest, that odd feeling he felt under the darkness of Aziel's shadow. The memory of it lingered tantalizingly at the edge of his consciousness, like a word forgotten on the tip of his tongue.

Arthur had been trying to find that feeling again ever since night fell but was having very little luck. The darkness around them was perfect—complete and enveloping—yet the sensation remained elusive. He tried really feeling the darkness around him, letting it coat and consume him, letting it pass through him like he didn't exist. The night air seemed to thicken around his form as he concentrated, drawing the shadows toward him.

And while he could feel the power surging through him, the familiar strength that darkness always granted him, he still did not grasp that feeling of tangibility from before. The power flowed into him, through him, but remained frustratingly incorporeal.

A couple times he actually tried to reach out and grab the darkness, his fingers closing around empty air as he attempted to seize the shadows. Unsurprisingly, this did nothing but make him look like an idiot. Aziel had glanced back once or twice, eyebrow raised in silent question, but had mercifully refrained from comment.

At first, Arthur thought the feeling had something to do with his dark sense, but quickly realized that this was completely different. His darksense makes him feel like the darkness around him is an extension of his body, allowing him to feel and hear things in his radius. The night was alive with information—the movement of small insects among the roses, the whisper of wind through thorny stems, the sound of Aziel's chest rising and falling with each breath.

But it was not as if the darkness felt like a third arm or anything. In fact, it was kind of hard to explain and gave Arthur a headache to think about, but when something moves or speaks in his radius, it's more like the feeling or sound gets directly transmitted to his brain. A perception rather than a physical extension.

This new feeling, however, actually made him feel like the darkness was touching him, like he could touch it. As if darkness could become substance under his command. The prospect of this idea excited Arthur. His mind raced with possibilities as they walked through the night, his feet crushing rose petals automatically while his thoughts soared.

He began imagining ideas of having countless tendrils of darkness and the insane control he would have over the dark. Shadowy appendages that could strike, shield, or seize at his command. It would be overpowered in theory, and an overpowered ability is just what Arthur felt like he needed after his pathetic display of swordsmanship earlier that day.

But sadly, he still couldn't replicate the feeling, and soon enough was interrupted when something entered his radius. The intrusion was immediate and jarring—a presence that did not belong among the roses, moving with predatory intent directly toward them.

He spun his head to see a single Nightreaver diving towards them.

Aziel turned upon seeing Arthur's urgency and smiled. There was that familiar predatory gleam in his eyes, the excitement of battle lighting his features. He summoned his spear and soon lightning was dancing around him, casting his face in harsh blue illumination that made him look almost as otherworldly as the monster approaching them.

But just as soon as it all appeared, it vanished. His spear and lightning disappeared along with his smile before he sighed and looked at Arthur, who was staring in slight concern. The sudden change was jarring, completely unexpected given Aziel's usual eagerness for combat.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, his voice tight with tension as the Nightreaver continued its approach.

Aziel grunted, his expression suddenly serious. "This one's all you. I won't be helping, so you know... don't die."

Arthur stared with dull eyes, disbelief momentarily overriding his fear. '...what? Is this his idea of training? ...what an idiot.'

Arthur did not bother fighting against the decision—not the monster, but Aziel's pronouncement. He didn't necessarily know Aziel that well, but he now knew him well enough to know he wasn't getting out of this unless he killed that monster. There would be no persuading his eccentric companion otherwise.

Arthur breathed deeply, centering himself as he summoned his sword, hurrying to prepare for the monster's attack. The familiar weight materialized in his hand, cold metal against his palm. He was desperately attempting to stop his nerves and his body from shaking as he gripped the sword tighter, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.

He may have now killed multiple of these creatures, and he may have decided that he would get strong, that he would no longer be a coward... but sadly, things like his innate fear don't just vanish. Things like that are mountains that have to slowly be scaled, and while Arthur has decided to stop letting fear control him, it doesn't mean he's all of a sudden fearless.

The Nightreaver drew closer, its movements becoming more erratic as it sensed its prey. The roses seemed to wilt in its wake, as if even they recoiled from its unnatural presence. Its talons reached forward hungrily, eager to tear and rend.

Arthur tensed and readied as the monster was about to close in. The sword in his hand felt simultaneously too heavy and too insubstantial for the task ahead. The darkness around him pulsed with power that he could draw upon building Arthurs confidence?

'Let's go,' he thought, preparing to meet the creature's charge. Behind him, Aziel watched impassively, arms crossed, his casual stance belying the intensity of his observation.

The Nightreaver lunged, and the night erupted into violence.

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