ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Marcus smirked again—just a twitch of the lip, arrogant and playful. Then—whoosh—his body broke apart into swirling tendrils of shadow, vanishing in a dark puff that left only the faint scent of iron and smoke behind.

Serah staggered slightly, blinking. "What the hell—?"

But then—

"Miss me?"

His voice drifted from above.

She looked up sharply to see him crouched on a thick tree branch, one arm draped lazily over his knee, the other twirling his short sword like a toy. That same cocky grin was plastered across his face, almost daring her to try again.

Without a word, Serah flung herself at him—sword first.

But she struck nothing.

Poof. Gone again, a trail of black smoke left in his place.

She spun, eyes scanning.

"To think…" his voice echoed again, this time from another tree, just ten paces to the left. There he was—reclining like a smug cat. "This is how you treat the guy who saved your little fire squad from that barbaric ambush. Real warm, princess."

With a growl, she launched another attack—fast, sharp, and fluid.

Gone again.

This time, his laughter followed the shadows.

"Should've just said thank you."

She leapt, slashed, pivoted—each time meeting only air and vanishing smoke.

Another tree. Another tease.

"What would your royal etiquette tutors say, huh?"

Again she struck. Again—vanished.

Her breath started to hitch now, her shoulders rising and falling. Sweat pearled at her brow.

"You done yet?" Marcus's voice came again, light and irritatingly casual, like this was just a game of tag. "Or do I gotta keep teleporting till sunrise?"

Serah halted, blade at her side. Her chest rose and fell with every breath as she glared up toward the last tree he'd landed on.

"...You're just wasting my damn energy," she muttered.

Up above, Marcus grinned wider, shadows licking at his heels like loyal dogs.

"Now you're gettin' it, Princess."

'This bastard is grinding every last nerve I have left,' Serah thought bitterly, her crimson eyes locked on the shadow-cloaked figure still perched atop the tree. 'Aside from being a damn dark mage, he's still showing off—taunting me—just like he did back there, when he played us all like puppets.' Her jaw tightened as she suppressed a growl.

But instead of lunging again, Serah drew in a breath, forcing herself to relax her stance. Her sword lowered slightly as her sharp gaze began to analyze the man who'd been running rings around her.

Now that she really looked, he wasn't as old as she'd first thought. Maybe twenty-one? Twenty-two, tops. That sharp jawline, that annoyingly smug smirk—he was younger than her.

"Tch. Just my luck," she muttered under her breath. 'This little brat is younger than I am?'

Annoyance rising, she activated Mystsense. Her eyes flared a deeper crimson, pupils narrowing slightly as arcane patterns glimmered over her irises. Her vision shifted—focusing not on flesh, but on soul. At the center of Marcus's chest, a glowing mystic core pulsed with a low but vibrant violet hue.

A low-tier Eight-Star.

Serah's lips parted slightly, her fury flaring higher.

'To hell with this bullshit,' she hissed inwardly.

She was a high-tier Eight-Star mage—two whole ranks above him. Two levels was no joke. In any proper duel, she should've crushed him like a bug. Yet from their earlier skirmish, it was clear he'd been toying with her. Dancing in and out of the shadows like a phantom, never once truly trying to finish her off—but never letting her land a blow either.

If he were truly stronger than her, he'd need to be a Nine-Star at least—a level of power so rare among humans that even most Grandmasters only whispered of it.

But here he was.

And he wasn't Nine-Star.

He was just... different.

Then it hit her.

'Of course. He's a dark mage.'

Dark mages didn't operate by the same laws. Their mystic energy didn't conform to the natural scaling of power. Their strength was unpredictable—chaotic. While most elemental users exhibited power aligned with their tier, dark mages could bend reality itself and punch above their weight class like they were born for it.

Her thoughts were cut off by his voice.

"Hey, princess," Marcus called down, his voice teasing, laced with that same damn smirk. "You keep staring at me like you wanna bite me."

His grin widened.

"You like what you see, huh?"

Serah scowled in revulsion, rolling her eyes as she ran her fingers through her red waves. "Hey. How old are you?"

Marcus blinked, momentarily surprised, before chuckling. "Damn. Are royals always this forward about what they want?"

"What the—" Serah blurted, caught off guard.

"Don't worry, Princess," Marcus said with a wink. "For you? I'm old enough to make your dreams come true."

Without a second thought, Serah whipped up a blazing orb of fire, hot and fast. She hurled it straight at him with every ounce of frustration she could channel.

It screamed toward him, but just before it struck—

Poof. Gone again, his body erupting into a whirl of black smoke.

The fireball detonated against the tree, splintering bark and sending flaming embers into the sky.

Serah narrowed her eyes at the burning remains of the branch—when a voice breathed softly against her right ear.

"Woah," Marcus whispered, now standing just behind her shoulder. "That would've hurt."

Her eyes widened.

With no hesitation, she spun and swung her elbow in a tight arc toward his jaw—but he was already gone, backflipping and landing smoothly in a crouch a few feet away, hand braced to the ground.

He raised his palms in mock surrender. "Okay, my bad. That one was a little close. Personal space. Duly noted."

Serah turned toward him fully, eyes blazing. "You don't get it, do you, kid? You're a dark mage, and I'm going to execute you."

Her sword rose again, leveled directly at him.

Marcus tilted his head with a dramatic sigh. "First of all—'kid'? Seriously? Princess, you might be older than me by what—two, maybe three years? That barely counts. I demand to speak to the ageist council." Needcharactersheetsandglossaries?VisitMV^LEM^PYR.

His voice rose into an exaggerated whine, hand placed over his chest like some offended noblewoman.

"And second," he added, eyes glinting, "you're not here to execute me. Be honest—you just want to prove you're stronger than me. You can't stand that I made you look like a trainee back there."

He'd hit the mark.

Serah didn't react, didn't move, but the truth hung heavy between them.

Marcus smirked wider, sensing he'd cracked her composure.

"Well," she said coolly, voice steady, "whatever you think this is, I will have your head."

Marcus gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his mouth. "My head? Princess, no! These lips have never been kissed! These eyes—pure and innocent! You can't just take my virtue like this."

Serah twitched. Her eye visibly twitched.

Lowering her sword, she brought one hand to her temple and began to massage it, muttering through clenched teeth.

"May the gods help me with this fool."

Marcus let out another chuckle, this time softer and lower, almost amused. "Alright, princess," he said as he rose from his crouch, brushing his knees off. "Why don't we have a little chat? Maybe I can convince you not to slice my head off and parade it around like a trophy?"

Serah's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto his. "And what exactly could you say that would convince me to let you walk out of here alive?"

"I don't know," Marcus said casually, beginning to stroll over to where his shirt lay discarded on the ground. "Maybe that I just helped you and your little squad by killing over a hundred sadistic scumbags and their twisted master? That ring any bells? Took a lot of work, y'know—with you trying to kill me in my own turf, swinging your sword like you were at a damn piñata party. Kinda rude, not gonna lie."

Serah scoffed, crossing her arms but keeping her sword angled toward him. "You were walking straight toward me. What reaction were you expecting? Hugs and flowers?"

Marcus smirked as he dusted off his shirt and slipped it back over his shoulders. "I dunno, maybe something a little less murdery. But hey—after what you saw back there, I get it. To you, what I did makes me just like them, huh?"

He paused, then slowly glanced over his shoulder. The playful gleam in his dark eyes vanished, replaced by something colder. Whatever it was, it sent an involuntary chill down Serah's spine.

But just as quickly, it was gone.

"But am I really though?" Marcus said, his voice light again as he reached for his cloak. "If you ask me, they got what they deserved. I'm a firm believer in karma, and today? I was her personal delivery boy." He gave a nonchalant shrug.

Then a grin tugged at his lips. "Besides, don't act like you didn't enjoy the little present I left for you."

"You mean Blan?" Serah asked, her tone softer now, her posture relaxing a fraction.

"Ah, see?" Marcus said, sliding his arms through the cloak. "You did enjoy it." He began tying his hair back into a loose, messy bun.

Serah watched for a moment—then blinked, feeling something she didn't recognize flutter in her chest. Her cheeks flushed, and before Marcus could notice, she sharply turned her head to the side.

'What the hell was that?' she thought, biting down on the feeling.

"Well," she said aloud, forcing composure back into her voice, "I guess I can thank you for that."

"Now that's more like it," Marcus said, finishing with his hair and flashing her a grin. "So, that means I get to leave now, right?"

"Of course not," Serah said, her blade rising toward him again. "Not until you answer my question."

Marcus raised both hands in mock surrender. "Uh… name's Marcus. I'm twenty-two?"

Serah blinked at the randomness of it. "No. I don't care about that, you idiot. I haven't even asked my question yet."

"Well damn," Marcus said, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry for being proactive."

Serah exhaled sharply, barely keeping her temper in check. "Why… why did you kill your own kind in such a brutal way?"

Marcus tilted his head slightly. "You mean Jyn?"

"Yeah. Why kill another dark mage? You could've teamed up. The two of you could've wiped out my whole group if you'd worked together."

For a moment, silence fell between them. Then Marcus gave a slow smirk, his eyes narrowing with a calm sort of disdain.

"That's your question?" he asked. "That's easy."

"It's because of reckless freaks like Jyn that the rest of Amthar thinks we dark mages are monsters—mistakes that need to be erased."