ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Back in his dorm room, Liam stepped out of the washroom, faint steam still rolling off his body as he dragged a towel through his damp hair, drying it just enough to keep it from dripping. His movements were unhurried, controlled, as he crossed the room. The space was brightly lit, the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows in long, golden beams that stretched across the floor and up the walls.

Reaching his wardrobe, Liam let the towel fall onto his bed before pulling the doors open. He scanned briefly, then picked out a simple shirt to go with the pants he already wore. As he slipped it on and began fastening the buttons, his expression remained as calm and unreadable as ever.

"Hey there, Mabel," he said evenly, not turning his head.

Behind him, near the door, Mabel materialized out of thin air as she always did—silent and seamless. She stood there in her Royal Corps attire, posture straight, presence composed, and her masked gaze fixed on him. Through the mask, her hazel-brown eyes watched him carefully.

"Seems you don’t plan to train as long as usual today," she remarked, her tone steady.

"Yeah," Liam replied simply, continuing to button his shirt. "Today’s the last day. I’ll need some time to recover."

Mabel studied him for a brief moment before speaking again.

"I suppose that makes sense," she said. "Anyway, since you’re finally heading out, and considering you’ve barely stepped outside your dorm aside from the training hall—I figured you should know a few things before you do."

"Go ahead," Liam acknowledged calmly. "I’m listening."

Mabel paused, not because she lacked the information, but because she found herself adjusting, once again, to the subtle yet undeniable shift in him.

If she had thought Liam seemed more mature after waking from his six-month slumber, or even after his Ascension a week ago, then what stood before her now was something beyond that. There was a deeper stillness to him. A sharper sense of control. He wasn’t just composed—he was settled.

And she was still getting used to it.

"First," she said at last, "since this is probably the most important thing to you... Sheila and Percy reconciled. Properly. Five days ago. On the day the third years left."

Liam paused only slightly, a quiet hum escaping him as he processed the information.

"I see," he said. "That’s good. It means I can approach Sheila about my intentions now." He buttoned the last of his shirt, then added, almost dryly, "Sounds like it was... emotional. Doing that on the same day Percy was leaving."

"I’d say that’s accurate," Mabel replied simply.

"Thanks for telling me," Liam said, his tone unchanged. "What else?"

"The new first years have already been enrolled," Mabel continued. "They’ve settled into their dorms and are currently going through orientation at Beacon Hall."

Liam’s movements slowed just slightly at that.

"They already held the entrance trials?" he muttered, a faint note of surprise slipping through. "I suppose it’s not much different from when I enrolled."

There was a brief pause before he straightened his collar.

"Either way," he continued, "I appreciate the update. I’ll be heading out now."

"Liam."

He stopped just before reaching the door, turning his gaze toward her.

Mabel held his eyes behind the mask.

"I’m sure you’ve already considered this," she said, her voice a touch more serious now, "but you should still hear it. These new students aren’t ignorant of who—or what—you are. Your existence as a dark mage has already spread across all three kingdoms. Maybe not every detail... but enough."

She paused, letting the weight of that settle.

"Their families have already filled their heads with warnings. With fear. With lies. The hatred you’ve seen before... you should expect the same from them."

Liam watched her quietly, his expression unchanged as he took in every word.

"I appreciate the warning," he said after a moment. "But like you said... I already expected that."

A brief pause.

"And more importantly," he added, "I don’t care."

Mabel didn’t respond immediately.

’Of course you don’t,’ she thought to herself, a faint smirk forming beneath her mask. ’You never have.’

"Well," Liam said, turning away, "I’m heading out."

He walked past her without hesitation, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor.

And just like that, he was gone.

Liam stepped out of the dormitory building and into the open air, the shift from the stillness of his room to the quiet movement of the academy grounds almost immediate. The afternoon sun hung at a comfortable angle in the sky, neither too harsh nor too dim, casting long shadows that stretched across the stone pathways and trimmed lawns. A light breeze moved through the campus, carrying with it the distant hum of voices—students gathering, walking, talking, living.

He didn’t pause.

His pace was steady, unhurried, as he moved along the familiar paths of the academy. His eyes drifted over his surroundings, not out of curiosity, but out of habit. He registered everything—the clusters of students scattered across the grounds, the subtle differences in uniforms that marked the newly enrolled first years, the occasional glance sent his way by those who recognized him... or thought they did.

None of it held his attention for long.

Right now, his objective was simple.

Find Sheila.

He had already gone through the most obvious locations in his mind—the training grounds, the dormitories, the more secluded corners she sometimes preferred—but without any concrete direction, he wasn’t wasting time overthinking it. Walking through the academy would eventually narrow things down. It always did.

As he turned a corner along one of the wider pathways, the flow of students became denser.

Most of them were first years.

It was obvious in the way they moved—slightly uncertain, some of them overly excited, others trying too hard to appear composed. Their voices carried easily, conversations overlapping with one another as they moved in loose groups, still unfamiliar with the rhythm of the academy.

Liam walked through them without slowing.

"...I’m telling you, it was so boring."

The voice came from ahead of him, casual, slightly irritated.

"I thought the orientation would be at least a little interesting," another voice—female—added. "Like, I don’t know... something worth paying attention to."

"It would’ve been," a second girl chimed in with a small sigh, "if Sir Galen was there."

That caught Liam’s attention just enough for him to register the group as he approached.

Three of them.

Two girls. One guy.

First years, clearly.

The boy scoffed lightly, shoving his hands into his pockets as they walked.

"Yeah, exactly. I heard he’s insane. Like, actually insane. Strongest knight in the kingdom or something. If he showed up, at least we’d have something to watch instead of those dry speeches."

"One of the seniors said he doesn’t even show up to things like that," the first girl replied. "Apparently, he just does whatever he wants."

"Sounds about right," the second girl muttered.

They kept talking, their attention completely on their conversation—

And that was exactly why the collision happened.

The boy stepped slightly to the side without looking.

Liam didn’t.

Their shoulders bumped.

It wasn’t hard. Barely even enough to be called contact.

But it was enough.

"Watch where you’re—" the boy snapped instinctively, the words coming out sharp and annoyed as he turned around.

He stopped mid-sentence.

Liam stood there, just behind him, unmoving.

His red eyes looked down slightly—not in intimidation, not in effort, but simply because of the difference in height. His expression was neutral, unreadable, his presence quiet... but heavy in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious.

For a brief moment, the boy hesitated.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, instinct.

But it passed quickly.

He straightened.

"...You should watch where you’re going," he said instead, his tone shifting into something firmer, almost challenging.

Behind him, the two girls exchanged a quick glance, sensing the tension but not intervening.

The boy crossed his arms slightly, lifting his chin just enough to make it clear he wasn’t backing down.

"Seriously," he continued, a slight edge creeping into his voice, "you’re an upperclassman, right? Act like one."

Liam looked at him.

Silently.

There was no immediate reaction. No irritation. No anger.

Just observation.

Inwardly, a single thought passed through his mind.

’...This one might be even more stupid than the others.’

He had seen arrogance before. Plenty of it. Especially from students who didn’t yet understand the hierarchy of strength within the academy.

But this wasn’t even arrogance.

This was ignorance.

And worse... it was loud.

Liam held the boy’s gaze for a second longer, then simply looked away.

No words.

No acknowledgment.

Nothing.

He stepped past him.

The boy blinked, caught off guard.

"—Hey."

No response.

"Hey, I’m talking to you."

Liam kept walking.

That, more than anything, seemed to irritate the boy.

"Are you deaf or something?" he snapped, turning slightly as if to follow.

But before he could take more than a step—

"Liam!"

The voice cut through the air from a distance, loud, energetic, unmistakable.

Liam stopped.

He turned his head slightly toward the source of the voice, his eyes scanning briefly before landing on the figure waving at him from across the grounds.

Dylan.

Of course.

The blond archer stood out easily, one arm raised high as he waved like he was trying to get the attention of someone across an entire battlefield rather than a few dozen meters.

"There you are!" Dylan called out, already moving toward him.

Liam didn’t respond verbally.

But he did turn fully in that direction.

If anyone would know where Sheila was...

It would be him.

Without another glance at the first years behind him, Liam began walking toward Dylan.

The interaction, for him, was already over. And forgotten.

Behind him, however—

Silence fell.

The boy stood there, frozen in place, his earlier irritation completely gone.

"...Did he just—ignore you?" one of the girls asked quietly, her voice uncertain.

He didn’t answer.

His eyes remained fixed on Liam’s retreating figure, something slowly settling in his expression.

"...Wait," the other girl said suddenly, her tone shifting.

She had been staring in the same direction.

At Dylan.

At the way he had called out.

"Did he just say... Liam?"

The name hung in the air.

The boy’s eyes widened slightly.

"...No way," he muttered under his breath.

They all looked again.

Really looked this time.

At the dark hair.

At the red eyes.

At the way the surrounding students—subtly, almost instinctively—kept their distance without even realizing it.

The way no one interrupted him.

The way no one approached him.

"...That’s him," the second girl whispered, her voice barely audible now.

"The last dark mage..."

The boy felt something tighten in his chest.

His earlier words echoed back in his mind.

You should watch where you’re going.

Act like one.

A cold realization settled over him.

"...Liam Hunter," he said quietly.

And just like that—

The weight of who they had just been standing in front of finally hit them.