Ascendant of Shadows: The Monarch and The Eminence

The northern forests of the Kingdom of Midgar were shrouded in an unnatural twilight. The very air was thin, stripped of its rich mana. Trees were brittle and grey, their leaves crumbling to dust at the slightest touch. In the center of this growing blight, a new Fracture, smaller but more stable than the one over the capital, pulsed with a sickening, silent rhythm. It was a spearhead, a festering wound designed to bleed this world dry.

Surrounding it were the seven shades of Shadow Garden.

"The drain is accelerating," Alpha reported, her hand resting on a grey, lifeless tree trunk. "They're not just opening a portal; they're terraforming the area, turning our world's magic into a substance their masters can consume."

"It's disgusting," Beta added, sketching the Fracture in her notebook. "It feels... cheap. Like a poorly written ending."

Delta was just growling, sniffing the air. "Weak things coming... Boring."

Suddenly, a figure appeared on a high branch above them, his black coat swirling as if woven from the night itself. It was Shadow.

"Lord Shadow!" the seven of them exclaimed, immediately kneeling.

Cid surveyed the scene, his face a mask of cool analysis. He had run here at top speed, just barely beating his own subordinates. 'Phew, made it just in time. Now to act like I've been here for hours, observing everything.'

"The Weavers are more impatient than I anticipated," he said, his voice a low murmur that carried an air of authority. "They establish a nest. A place to birth their hounds."

As if on cue, the Fracture pulsed, and a creature shambled out. It was a horrifying amalgamation of limbs and eyes, roughly the size of a bear, its skin the color of ash and its movements jerky and unnatural. It let out a screech that was pure static, a sound that hurt the mind more than the ears.

"A Void Hound," Cid said, naming the creature on the spot. "The first wave. Do not let them spread."

"Yes, my lord!" Alpha and the others responded in unison.

With a final, cool glance, Cid spoke again. "I have... business to attend to. An unpredictable new piece has appeared on the board. I must guide it." With that, he dissolved into the darkness, leaving his loyal followers to deal with the emerging horde of monsters.

His "business," of course, was finding a new school uniform and making sure he got back to the academy dorms before curfew.

One day later, at the gates of the Midgar Royal Spellsword Academy.

Sung Jin-woo stood, feeling a sense of profound and utter absurdity. He wore the standard male student uniform—a crisp, if somewhat generic, white shirt, black trousers, and a formal black jacket. He'd used the money Cid had given him to purchase the uniform and, through a simple but potent display of mind-control on a bored administrator ("You will find my enrollment papers are perfectly in order"), had officially become a first-year student.

His immense power was suppressed, retracted so deeply into himself that he barely registered as a blip of mana. To any passing mage or spellsword, he was just another commoner who had somehow scraped his way into the prestigious academy. He was a background character. A mob.

It was, he had to admit, the perfect disguise. No one looked at him twice.

[New Status:]

[Name: Sung Jin-woo]

[Level: ???]

[Class: Student (Temporary)]

[Title: The One Who Stands Alone, …]

[Note: The System questions the tactical viability of this course of action but acknowledges its efficacy as camouflage.]

Jin-woo mentally told the System to be quiet. He was still getting used to its occasional, unhelpful commentary since it had rebooted.

His goal was simple: blend in, observe this world's power structures, find Cid when necessary, and be ready for the next Weaver attack. School was just a convenient base of operations. How hard could it be?

He was about to find out.

His first class was "Basic Mana Manipulation," taught by an aging, portly instructor. Jin-woo sat in the back, projecting an aura of complete mediocrity.

"Alright, class!" the instructor boomed. "Today, we test your foundational capacity! I want each of you to come up and channel your mana into this crystal orb. The brightness of the glow will determine your raw potential! It is a simple, effective measure of a spellsword's innate talent!"

Students went up one by one. A noble with silver hair produced a bright, respectable glow. A nervous girl with glasses managed a soft, flickering light.

Then, they called his name. "Sung Jin-woo! You're next!"

Jin-woo walked to the front of the class. He placed his hand on the orb. Now came the tricky part. He had to channel just enough power to be considered "average" or even "below average." The problem was, his control was absolute, but his scale was cosmic. Asking him to produce a "small" amount of power was like asking a supernova to produce the light of a single candle.

He focused, trying to extrude the tiniest, most pathetic sliver of his energy. He aimed for a dim flicker.

He placed his hand on the orb.

For a moment, nothing happened. The instructor scoffed. "Putting your hand on it isn't enough, boy, you have to actually channel—"

CRACK.

A tiny, hairline fracture appeared on the surface of the crystal orb. Then another. And another. The orb, a priceless magical artifact designed to measure the mana of archmages, began to vibrate violently. It didn't glow. Instead, it started turning a dull, terrifying grey, as if the life was being drained out of it. The very concept of its "magic" was being overwritten by the sheer density of the power it was trying to measure.

Jin-woo immediately pulled his hand back. 'Too much!' he thought, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

The orb stopped vibrating, now covered in a web of fine cracks and marred by a dull, grey handprint that wouldn't fade.

The classroom was silent. Everyone stared at the damaged orb.

"What... what did you do?" the instructor stammered, his face pale.

"I don't know," Jin-woo said with a perfect deadpan. "I think your equipment might be broken."

A wave of whispers erupted in the classroom.

"Did you see that? He broke the orb!"

"He didn't even make it glow! He has zero talent! His mana is so corrupted it actually damaged the crystal!"

"What a loser. How did he even get into this academy?"

From the front row, a beautiful, pink-haired girl who had been watching with disdain, laughed haughtily. "Hmph. What a pathetic display. Not only does he have no talent, he's so inept he breaks things just by touching them. Stay away from me, you walking disaster." This was Alexia Midgar, the kingdom's second princess.

Jin-woo simply returned to his seat, ignoring them. The outcome was unexpected, but the result was perfect. He had cemented his status not just as a mob, but as a talentless, clumsy mob. No one would ever suspect him.

The next class was "Practical Sword Skills" in the grand training field.

The instructor, a stern woman with a scar over one eye, had them pair up for sparring with wooden swords. "Your goal is not to injure, but to display your form! Show me the basics of the Midgar Style!"

Jin-woo was paired with a burly, arrogant-looking noble scion who sneered at him. "So you're the talentless freak who broke the mana orb. Try not to break your sword just by holding it. I'll make this quick."

The noble lunged, his form sloppy but powerful, aiming a heavy overhead strike at Jin-woo's head.

Jin-woo's combat experience transcended planets and dimensions. He had fought beings that moved faster than light. This... was not that.

He didn't even need to use his power. He simply applied the most basic principles of combat. As the wooden sword descended, he took a tiny, almost imperceptible step to the side. At the same time, he extended his own wooden sword, not to block, but to gently tap the side of his opponent's knee.

The noble, his balance completely thrown by the missed swing and the unexpected tap, let out a surprised yelp and tumbled forward, face-planting in the dirt at Jin-woo's feet. The entire exchange took less than a second.

Jin-woo stood over him, holding his wooden sword in a perfect, neutral stance.

The field went quiet. The instructor's eyes widened. She hadn't seen any fancy moves. She hadn't seen a burst of speed or power. All she saw was a clumsy student fall on his face and another student... just standing there. It looked like the noble had simply tripped over his own feet.

"What happened?" someone whispered.

"Did you see? He just fell!"

"That Jin-woo guy is so unlucky, his opponents just trip over themselves!"

The noble scrambled up, his face beet red with humiliation. "I... I tripped! It doesn't count! Let's go again!"

He charged again. Jin-woo subtly shifted his weight, causing a small pebble to roll under the noble's boot. The noble's ankle turned, and he went down again, this time skidding to a halt in a cloud of dust.

Now, everyone was staring. Two "accidents" in a row.

Jin-woo looked down at his opponent, then at the instructor, a look of mild confusion on his face. "Is he... okay?"

This single day cemented the legend of Sung Jin-woo at the Midgar Academy. He was not just the talentless mob with corrupted mana. He was the "Unlucky Shadow," a walking black cat whose opponents were cursed with sudden, inexplicable clumsiness. He was weird. He was an outcast. He was perfectly, beautifully, unnoticeable.

That evening, as he walked back to his dorm, he felt a familiar presence. He turned into a shadowed alley. A moment later, Cid Kagenou, in his own school uniform, appeared.

"I heard you had an... eventful first day," Cid said, a smirk on his face. He'd heard the rumors. The Monarch's attempt at being a "mob" was hilariously clumsy, but effective.

"Your school's equipment is fragile," Jin-woo replied flatly. "And your nobles are clumsy."

"Indeed," Cid chuckled. "The northern nest has been cleared. My 'Garden' handled it. But it was just a probe. The Weavers know we can fight back. They'll adapt."

"Let them," Jin-woo said, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "I'm getting tired of waiting."

Cid's smirk widened. "Ooh, what a cool line! He's getting impatient! The powerful hero is tired of the small fry! This is great!"

"Patience, my friend," Cid said, patting Jin-woo's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. "The real stage is still being set. Enjoy the school life. The quiet moments are what make the coming storm so much more dramatic."

He then walked away, whistling a jaunty tune, leaving the Monarch of Shadows alone in the alley, contemplating the sheer insanity of his new life.