CAIUS: Crown of Threads and Shadows

The following morning, Caius and Sereth set out from the ruined shelter, tracking the deep hoofprints they had discovered near the river’s edge.

The trail led them away from the rushing waters and deeper into the quiet expanse of the valley, winding between colossal clusters of jagged gray stone and patches of pale, colorless vegetation that clung to life beneath the endless shadow of the Abyss.

Tracking the beast was simple enough in the soft, damp earth, but Sereth moved with deliberate caution. He stopped regularly whenever the trail grew faint over hard rock, examining broken blades of pale grass, disturbed silt, and the subtle, fresh scrapes left against the ancient boulders. Caius trailed closely behind, his eyes fixed on the dark elf, silently absorbing the way Sereth read the terrain without relying entirely on physical prints.

After nearly an hour of silent tracking, Sereth abruptly froze.

He reached over his shoulder and unslung his weapon. It was a magnificently crafted elven warbow, its dark, polished limbs curved with elegant precision, reinforced with rare woods and shimmering animal horn that Caius had never seen before. Sereth handled it with the effortless familiarity of a warrior who had wielded it across centuries.

Then, reaching into the leather sheath tied across his travel pack, Sereth pulled out a second bow.

This weapon was distinctly different. It was a human-made warbow, noticeably heavier and far less refined than Sereth’s graceful elven piece. Its dark yew wood was stained deep brown with age, its iron-reinforced tips showed faint signs of oxidation, and the leather grip was worn smooth by the oils of a long-dead warrior’s palm. Yet despite its age, the bow had been meticulously maintained, its string freshly waxed and taut.

Sereth turned, extending the heavy human bow toward Caius. ”Take this.”

Caius reached out, his fingers wrapping around the worn leather grip. He turned the weapon over in his hands, feeling its solid, balanced weight. ”Your old bow?”

”Human-made. Very old,” Sereth replied softly.

Caius pulled back slightly on the heavy string, testing the draw weight. It offered formidable resistance, requiring a grown soldier’s strength to pull completely to the ear. ”It is still remarkably strong.”

”It has survived longer than most of the men who carried it,” Sereth said. He looked down at the dark wood for a brief, quiet moment before turning his eyes back toward the winding trail ahead. ”Return it to me when you can buy another bow or craft one of your own. Until then, treat it as your own skin.”

Caius looked up, catching the rare flick of emotion in the dark elf’s eyes. ”Why carry this? Why give it to me?”

Sereth’s stern expression softened just a fraction. ”It holds sentimental value to me. A reminder of a friend.”

Caius lowered the bow with carefully measured respect, resting its tip near his boot. ”I will take care of it. I won’t let it break.”

Sereth gave a single nod. ”Good.”

They resumed their hunt, slipping quietly through the shadows of the valley.

Eventually, the trail led them toward a narrow, clear stream that trickled out from a fissure in the cliff face. Sereth raised a gloved hand, signaling an immediate halt, and melted into the shadow of a high boulder. Caius dropped low beside him, peering around the jagged edge of the rock.

Ahead, standing at the water’s edge, was the creature they had been tracking.

Caius held his breath, his eyes widening slightly.

The beast resembled a massive stag, but its physique was armored and terrifyingly grand. Instead of soft fur, thick, overlapping plates of dark slate-gray scales covered its body from its broad shoulders down its flanks, protecting its throat and chest like natural chainmail. Above its armored head, a majestic pair of wide, jagged antlers branched out like crowns of dark iron, and its thick, muscular legs carried a frame nearly double the size of a common forest hart.

Despite its monstrous appearance, the creature was placidly drinking from the stream, its heavy tail flicking away the occasional subterranean fly.

”A scaled stag,” Sereth whispered, his voice barely carrying over the babble of the brook.

Caius observed the creature’s dense armor plating. ”Is it a monster?”

”A beast of the dark hollows. It is a herbivore, but do not mistake docility for weakness. Those scales can glance off iron spearheads and turn ordinary arrows to splinters.”

Caius adjusted his grip on the heavy yew bow, pulling an iron-tipped arrow from his quiver. ”Then where do we strike it?”

Sereth turned his head, his dark eyes fixing on the boy. ”You take the shot.”

Caius looked back at the stag. The beast was roughly thirty meters away, a daunting distance for an unarmored archer aiming at a target encased in natural plate armor.

Caius raised the old warbow. He nocked the arrow, breathing in slowly through his nose to steady his trembling hands.

Then, keeping his secret safe from Sereth’s sharp gaze, he subtly activated the Eye of the Loom.

Far Sight flared to life behind his dark eyes.

The physical world bled its colors away, fading into muted shades as Caius’s perception sharpened to a razor’s edge. The stag’s physical outline grew hyper-detailed, and the faint, glowing veins of mana circulating within its flesh began to shimmer beneath its heavy scales.

However, a cold realization struck Caius. The thirty-meter distance was pushing the current limits of his control. At this range, his Far Sight could not firmly lock onto the beast’s tiny core; the image of its internal mana structure remained hazy and unstable, flickering like a candle in the wind.

Caius narrowed his eyes, his knuckles turning white against the bowstring. Too far. I can’t pin it down.

Beside him, Sereth remained motionless, watching the boy’s struggle without offering a word of advice, expecting him to miss or hit a useless scale.

Caius refused to lower his arm. He grit his teeth, forcing his mind to dig deeper into his own reserve.

Deep within his chest, his newly formed black core stirred.

This text was taken from NovelPhoenix. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A wave of dense, dark energy surged upward, circulating through his pathway channels and gathering in a concentrated haze around his eyes and drawing arm.

Sereth felt the sudden, chilling shift in the ambient temperature. His eyes narrowed instantly. That black energy again...

Caius inhaled a long, slow breath, shutting out the sound of the wind and the rushing water.

Under the pressure of his dark mana, his secret vision snapped into terrifying focus. The thirty meters separating him from the beast seemed to collapse into nothingness. The hazy glow within the stag consolidated, revealing the beast’s tiny, pulsating mana core embedded deep within its chest.

Caius adjusted his stance, angling the heavy iron arrowhead slightly to the left. He did not aim for the core itself, as striking a dense knot of mana might deflect the arrow. Instead, he allowed his perception to penetrate further into the beast’s inner anatomy.

Beneath the interlocking scales, hidden just behind the shoulder joint, he located it: the rhythmic, muscular pump of the stag’s beating heart.

There.

Caius drew the heavy bowstring all the way back to his cheekbone. The thick muscles in his back and shoulders quivered under the massive tension of the ancient wood, but he held his posture like a statue.

He released his breath.

He released the string.

THWACK!

The heavy arrow crossed the thirty meters in a blur of motion. The iron tip found the precise, razor-thin gap between two overlapping scales, sinking deep into the stag’s chest with a sickening crunch of bone and tissue.

The great beast let out a sharp, choked huff, its powerful legs buckling instantly. It collapsed onto the river stones, thrashing once before going completely still.

Caius slowly lowered the bow, his chest heaving as the dark mana receded back into his core.

Sereth stared at the motionless beast for a long moment, then slowly turned to look at Caius, genuine shock flickering in his dark eyes. He had assumed the boy would miss or simply glance an arrow off the thick scaling. To hit a moving gap between armor plates at thirty meters required either an elven master’s precision or an unnatural instinct for the weapon.

He read the wind, the gap, and the beast’s posture instantly, Sereth thought, staring at Caius as if seeing him for the first time. Cullum never mentioned the boy was a prodigy with a bow. It is an instinct... a natural gift.

”A remarkable shot,” Sereth said quietly, still assessing him. ”You have a natural gift for the bow, Caius. A marksmanship like that cannot easily be taught.”

Caius caught his breath and lowered his gaze slightly, letting Sereth draw his own conclusions. ”I... I just focused on where it felt right to shoot.”

”Intuition is the marksman’s greatest asset,” Sereth murmured, convinced he was looking at raw, latent talent. ”Hold onto that instinct.”

Sereth’s focus quickly shifted as he scanned the shadowed cliffs above them. ”Now, we move fast. Blood in the open valley will bring scavengers.”

They sprinted across the rocky clearing toward the fallen stag. Caius held the old warbow tightly, keeping his eyes peeled for movement while Sereth crouched beside the kill, examining the arrow’s entry point.

”A clean kill. Through the heart,” Sereth noted, pulling his hunting knife to dress the carcass. Then, as he stood up, his eyes tracked the way Caius was moving across the uneven terrain. ”You are still far too heavy on your feet, Caius.”

Caius paused, looking down at his boots. ”What do you mean?”

”Your movement,” Sereth said, stepping away from the deer and walking in a slow circle around the boy. ”You have incredible martial instincts and you can pump energy into your limbs to brute-force your strength. Yet, you still walk like a heavy-footed human peasant.”

Caius frowned, defensive. ”I created my core only days ago. I haven’t had time to...”

”Which is precisely why you must learn correctly before bad habits solidify,” Sereth interrupted smoothly. He stopped five paces in front of Caius, settling his weight into a low, balanced stance. ”Proper movement is not simply about running faster or pushing harder. It requires continuously circulating mana through your body while you move.”

Sereth began to walk.

To the naked eye, his movement appeared completely ordinary, like just a dark elf stepping effortlessly across jagged rocks.

”Look closer,” Sereth commanded.

Caius activated his Inner Sight, keeping his expression calm so as not to betray the secret technique.

Instantly, the physical layer of Sereth’s body peeled back in Caius’s vision. He saw the dark elf’s dark blue mana pouring smoothly from his core, rushing through his primary channels like a river of liquid glass. Rather than pooling in his feet or bursting out in wasteful explosions of strength, the energy flowed in a continuous, unbroken circuit, moving down his spine, pulsing through his hips, looping through the nerve channels of his legs, and flowing back up to his core.

With every step Sereth took, his boots barely brushed the ground. The sound of his footfalls was nonexistent. He seemed to glide over the jagged river stones as if gravity had lost its grip on him.

”This is known among my people as the Flow Step,” Sereth explained, maintaining his fluid pacing. ”You must circulate mana through your muscles and nervous pathways simultaneously. Do not force it into one place. Let it ride the rhythm of your strides.”

Sereth suddenly cut sharply to the right, changing direction at an impossible angle without losing a fraction of his momentum.

”Your mana reinforces your structure, eliminates wasted kinetic energy, and allows for instantaneous acceleration. Mastered fully, your movements become virtually impossible for an enemy to track.”

Caius watched with rapt attention, tracing every radiant blue thread of energy through Sereth’s body.

”Furthermore,” Sereth added, his voice dropping to a whisper, ”the internal circulation masks your presence. Your footsteps become silent, your breathing calms, and your mana signature contracts. You become a phantom.”

Without warning, Sereth’s form flickered. For a split second, Caius’s eyes registered the dark elf in two places at once, with one image stepping left and the other appearing instantly three feet to the right, before the illusion collapsed into Sereth’s solid frame.

”That is merely the foundation of what the technique offers,” Sereth said, relaxing his stance as his mana settled.

Caius stared, deeply impressed. ”Your mana... it’s a deep, midnight blue.”

Sereth nodded. ”Darkness is my natural affinity. It lends itself well to concealment and fluid motion.” He eyed Caius closely. ”Your affinity and core are... different. Do not try to force your energy to mirror mine exactly. Adapt the concept to your own nature.”

Caius looked down at his palms, feeling the dark, heavy energy sleeping within his chest. ”How do I start?”

”Understand the principle, not just the visual,” Sereth instructed. ”Circulate your own mana. Find the path your core accepts without resistance.”

Caius closed his physical eyes, relying on Inner Sight while keeping his posture relaxed.

His black core came into view within his chest, denser, darker, and far more volatile than Sereth’s refined blue energy. Slowly, deliberately, Caius reached into his core and drew out a slender thread of black energy, guiding it down toward his hips and legs.

He recalled the exact pathway he had watched in Sereth’s body.

Caius took a step forward.

The black mana surged clumsily down his left leg, causing his muscle to twitch. The flow broke. Caius stumbled, his boot crunching loudly against a loose slate of rock.

Sereth watched silently, making no move to correct him.

Caius breathed out, clearing his mind. He tried again.

This time, he didn’t force the black energy into a rigid path. He allowed the heavy, dark mana to sink naturally through his hips, down his thighs, and through his ankles before drawing it back up his spine. The circulation was crude, uneven, and far from smooth, but a rudimentary loop was forming.

He took another step.

Then another.

Suddenly, the physical sensation changed. The heavy drag of his boots seemed to lessen. The jar of his heels hitting the stone vanished.

Caius opened his eyes.

Sereth was staring at him, his brow furrowed in genuine disbelief.

The dark elf had felt it instantly, as for a fleeting three seconds, Caius’s presence had almost completely vanished from his sensory perception. The boy’s movement hadn’t just become quiet; the peculiar, dark nature of his mana seemed to actively swallow the sound and weight of his footsteps.

It was far from a mastered technique, as the circulation was rough, unrefined, and drained his stamina rapidly, but Caius’s natural talent was proving terrifyingly adaptable. First the miraculous archery, now this.

Sereth’s expression shifted, a rare flash of caution passing through his eyes before he masked it. First the bow, now adapting to Flow Step on his second try... He learns like a monster. ”Interesting...”

Caius stopped, looking down at his feet. ”Did I do it right?”

Sereth cleared his throat, turning back toward the fallen beast. ”It was... an acceptable first attempt. But we have meat to butcher and transport before nightfall. Move.”

Caius followed behind him, continuously tweaking the slow, dark loop of energy in his legs, experimenting with every silent step they took across the valley.

Behind them, the ancient, towering ruins stood silent beneath the gray shadow of the Abyss.

And high up among the mist-shrouded cliffs, four glossy, cold eyes silently watched every move they made.