The Last Witchblood

Chapter 8: A Name that shouldn't Exist.

Unawares, time flew.

Soon, in the dark dorm room, Kai stirred.

For a moment he wasn't sure if he had dreamed the forest—the whispers, the bone serpent, the ritual that had nearly torn his mind apart. But when his hand shifted on the bed, it brushed against something cold and smooth.

The wand.

He blinked the fog from his eyes. His head was clear, unnervingly so. His thoughts no longer dragged through mud the way they had after battle. He reached inward.

His mental sea thrummed, steady, calm. Full.

'Recovered already...' He frowned faintly. His body clocked the hours—long hours. He turned his head. The window was dark, faint moonlight spilling between the curtains. His desk clock read a little past eight in the evening.

He had slept through the day.

Slowly, he sat up. His quarters looked the same, but something in the air felt different, heavier. Perhaps it was him. He had crossed a threshold, and the world would never look the same again.

His gaze lingered on the wand in his hand. For all its sinister beauty—black bone etched with faint silver—it rested quietly, like a coiled serpent content to sleep. The phantom weight of the grimoire pulsed faintly at the back of his mind, a reminder that the dual-form relic was not just crafted—it was bonded.

He exhaled, then called up the system.

---

[Quest Complete: Craft Your Witch Artifact]

Reward Claimed:

+1 Rank (Bronze II → Bronze III)

+500 Study & Research EXP

+2,000 Accumulated Experience

Blueprint Reward [Witch Spell Models x3]:

• Soulbrand Seal (1st-order): Binds spells to the witch's body for faster casting

• Witch's Eye (1st-order): Detection spell and Minor Clairvoyance

• Hemocraft Spark (2nd-order): Blood-linked amplification, doubles spell effect for 2–4 seconds at the cost of vitality.

Additional Reward:

[Random Witch Core Knowledge (Bronze Rank)]

Acquired: Derived Scattered Form (Witch Pathfolding Technique)

---

Kai leaned back against the headboard, silent.

A single rank gained, but the numbers told the real story. His mental power surged—stronger, sharper. Spells that had once drained him would come easier now. The raw increase alone meant he stood on firmer ground than most 3rd ranked Bronze wizards.

But the blueprints...

He pulled the grimoire into existence with a thought. Black parchment shimmered into the air, blank pages unfolding until glowing script bled into existence from the original wand form. Three diagrams formed slowly on the paper—circles, runes, branching lines that described not just structure, but philosophy.

Soulbrand Seal.

He traced the model with his mind. It was elegant, ruthless. The spell etched lesser cantrip magic and zero-orders directly into the flesh of the caster, turning the body itself into a vessel. Pain Infliction, Levitation, Sprint—spells that normally required a gesture or thought could be compressed into a reflex. The body and mental power would answer as fast as the mind. Dangerous. Efficient. Very much in line with witchcraft's philosophy: body as weapon, body as conduit.

Witch's Eye.

Simpler, but deceptive. A layered lens that could be conjured for moments, overlaying one's vision with threads of mana and illusion. Detection, clairvoyance, tracking illusions for weak points. Not prophecy—but a step closer. It reminded him uncomfortably of the "Combat Foresight" spell he had stumbled into earlier but hadn't had time to learn. Perhaps, with refinement, the two could converge.

And then—

Hemocraft Spark.

The grimoire pulsed faintly when his eyes lingered on it. He felt his heartbeat in his fingertips. The model described a dangerous loop: blood into mana, mana into spell, spell into blood again. The cycle produced a brief surge—doubling the effect of whatever spell it fueled. A Frost Needle that could pierce steel. An Echo Shield that could repel explosions. But at the cost of vitality. A trade witches knew well.

Kai closed the page slowly.

He could feel the temptation already. Amplification in exchange for blood. He would need discipline—or else, this spell would burn him hollow before long.

But it wasn't just the spell blueprints rewarded by the system that fascinated him. His gaze shifted to the reward he had received from the subquest, which was etched in deeper script.

Derived Scattered Form.

He inhaled sharply as the knowledge unfolded in his mind. Not words. Not diagrams. Impressions. His body felt like smoke, like hundreds of fluttering wings. A technique. A survival instinct etched into the bloodlines of vampires and night-beasts, now woven into witchcraft.

The concept was rather fascinating.

Disperse. Multiply. Survive.

If successfully completed, it allowed the body to fracture into fragments attached to creatures —it could be shades, bats, mist, insects—whatever essence the witch linked to or aligned to. So long as a single fragment survived, the body could reform.

Aside from that, there are many applications to this knowledge.

His mind spun with applications. Escape. Incarnations, Displacement. Even ambush. In combat, he could scatter to avoid fatal blows. In travel, he could cover miles in fractured steps. At higher ranks, it might allow him to fight as a swarm, overwhelming foes with countless copies.

The system had not exaggerated. This was more than knowledge. It was something that could be mistaken for a bloodline ability.

Kai's lips curled faintly as the hunger for knowledge filled him up.

"This... is interesting."

The room felt smaller, quieter. His lamp on the desk flickered once, shadows stretching unnaturally long.

He closed the grimoire, letting it dissolve back into wand form.

He had his tools. He had his knowledge. The next step was clear.

Preparation.

The assessment awaited, and he would take the assessment to skip grades.

---

Meanwhile, Selene sat cross-legged on the dormitory floor, scraps of parchment and thin iron wires scattered around her like the remnants of a bird's nest.

The half-finished mechanical arm lay in front of her. Blackened copper coils, two etched conduits, and a skeletal frame of steel bones. It wasn't what she had planned. She had followed the textbook diagrams at first—the same ones Kai had shown her—but midway through the etching, an impulse struck her. A design. A shift. She had followed it without thinking, her hands moving on their own.

Now the thing just sat there, lifeless.

It was just a few days until the Sorting of the new apprentices

Selene exhaled sharply and ran a hand through her hair. "It should have worked."

She tapped the frame again, as if sheer stubbornness might spark it awake. Nothing. The conduits didn't hum. The core chamber didn't align.

I wasted the materials.

The thought pressed down hard. These weren't cheap scraps she had scavenged. She had spent mana stones, stones given by Kai, the rest were saved from errands and small favors over the lastmonth. She couldn't afford to waste them.

Her chest tightened. Kai would know what to do. He always did. Even when his tone was sharp, he explained in ways that made sense. And besides—she hadn't seen him since before dawn the day prior. Nearly a day and a half.

Her mind flicked briefly to Carlson. Their odd, unsettling encounter at the market still clung to her thoughts, but this wasn't the time to unravel it. She needed to see Kai and tell him about Carlson's arrival at the Academy.

Selene packed the arm carefully into a wrapped cloth and slung it across her back. Then, with steadying breath, she left the temporary dorms and crossed into the winding streets toward the Blackstone Tower.

---

The Tower loomed as she approached, its surface swallowing the lanternlight of the grounds. Windows dotted here and there, but most were black voids. A faint mist clung to the stone like a living shroud.

Selene hesitated at the threshold, then stepped inside. The entrance was wide, swallowing her footsteps in silence. A draft curled down from somewhere above.

Her gaze flicked upward—and froze.

On the second-floor balcony, a figure moved.

It wasn't human.

A three-meter-tall shadow, its form vague, constantly shifting, as though woven from smoke and nightmare. Black mists trailed it like the hem of a cloak. In its grasp, limp and pale, hung a girl—an apprentice in Academy robes, unconscious or worse. Her hair dragged across the stones as the creature pulled her into the corridor, the sound muffled and distant.

Selene's breath hitched. Her legs felt locked. She shouldn't have looked up.

And then it looked back.

The shadow's face was no face at all, only a void with a pair of burning, hollow eyes. They met hers.

For a heartbeat too long, the world narrowed to that stare.

Pressure. Cold. The weight of an ocean pushing into her chest. Her thoughts screamed at her to run, but her body wouldn't obey.

Then—without a sound—the creature turned away, dragging the girl into the dark.

Selene's knees nearly buckled. Her grip tightened on the mechanical arm strapped across her back.

"That's a Shador," an untimely voice said behind her.

Selene spun with a gasp. A boy stood there in the shadows of the stairwell—brown hair, black eyes, a faint smile that was more unsettling than friendly.

He raised his hands lightly. "Didn't mean to startle you."

She pressed a hand to her chest. "You—"

"The creature, it felt your stare." His voice was calm, measured, almost rehearsed. "It's called a Shador. They're guardians of the Blackstone Tower. Partially, at least."

"Guardians?" Her voice was thin.

"Yes. They keep the Tower's... 'ecology' from falling into chaos. Step in when things go too far." His gaze lingered on her as if gauging her reaction. "And, sometimes, they collect those who are to be expelled. Or Students who break rules too deeply or get caught at least. The Shador... 'recycles' them."

The word scraped across her skin.

He tilted his head. "You're lucky you didn't try anything. They don't tolerate interference. Even a flinch toward spellwork would have marked you. And then you'd be dragged away as well."

Selene swallowed hard, forcing her breathing to even. "You... sound like you've seen them before."

"Once or twice." The boy's smile deepened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "My name's Warren. Warren Flanders."

She blinked. The name meant little, but there was something strange about the way he said it—like he knew her more than he should.

Warren glanced briefly at the wrapped bundle on her back. Then back to her. "Be careful walking alone here though. The Tower has more shadows than just Shadors."

Selene didn't like the way his eyes lingered. It felt like he knew something about her—something she hadn't spoken. A whisper brushed the edge of her mind, gone too quickly to grasp.

She nodded stiffly and stepped back. "I... I should go."

His smile widened the faintest fraction. "Of course."

Selene turned sharply and made for the stairs, her heart hammering as she put distance between them. She didn't look back.

Warren's gaze followed her until she vanished around the corner. Then, in the silence of the Tower's hall, he murmured softly to a pitch black diary in his hand:

"Looks like she has no idea how he did it either."

---

Selene didn't slow until she reached the higher stairwell, her boots echoing against the cold stone steps. Her hand brushed the cloth bundle on her back as if to reassure herself it was still there.

The Tower's air felt heavier now, each corner carrying the weight of unseen watchers. She couldn't push the image of the Shador away—the dragging body, those hollow eyes boring into her. And Warren... the way he had spoken, calm, practiced. Like the Tower's horrors were already familiar to him.

No. She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. She needed to focus. She had come here for Kai.

The second floor gave way to the third. Fewer students lingered here, most looked depressed, the corridors quieter, more oppressive. Blackstone walls seemed to absorb the lamplight, casting everything in shades of muted gray.

At last, she stopped before the familiar door.

Her heart steadied. Somehow, even the presence of this door, plain as it was, felt grounding. If anyone could unravel the mess she was holding—her failed arm, her nerves—it was him.

Selene lifted her hand, hesitated a second, then knocked softly.

Tok. Tok.

The sound barely carried down the corridor. She held her breath, waiting, listening to the silence that pressed back.

Tok. Tok.

Her knuckles lingered against the wood as if the contact itself anchored her. For a moment, there was no reply, only the faint hum of runes embedded in the walls. She swallowed, anxiety prickling at the back of her neck.

Then came the faint scrape of movement from within.

The door creaked open an inch, enough for lamplight to spill into the corridor. A familiar voice cut through the oppressive silence.

"...Selene?"

She exhaled shakily at the sound, relief mixing with the nerves that had been strangling her since the third floor.

The door opened wider, and Kai stood there. His white shirt was slightly rumpled, his heterochromic eyes were sharper than usual, as if he had just torn himself away from study. He looked her over once—her flushed face, the bundle clutched tight in her arms, the way her shoulders were stiff like drawn bowstrings.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said quietly, stepping aside to let her in. "Or worse."

Selene hesitated only a second before slipping past him into the room. The door shut behind her with a muted thud, sealing away the empty corridor.

Kai's gaze settled on the object she carried. Wrapped in a thin cloth, the outline was unmistakably mechanical, but uneven, jagged, not like anything out of the textbooks.

"What's that?" His tone was even, but his eyes had already narrowed in recognition.

Selene's grip tightened around it. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. A dozen things crowded her throat—the Shador, Warren's eyes, the failed construction—but only one came out first, weakly, almost breaking:

"I... need your help."

Kai motioned for her to sit, but Selene remained standing, clutching the bundle like a shield.

"I was working," she began, her voice unsteady. "I followed the schematics—your notes, the texts—but then, halfway through, it... shifted. It felt like something was guiding me, or maybe I just lost control. Either way, I ended up with this."

She unwrapped the cloth quickly, as though afraid she'd lose her nerve if she took it slow.

The arm gleamed dully under the lamplight. Blackened steel and pale brass interlocked in ways that didn't belong together. Its surface wasn't smooth like the refined prosthetics in the manuals; instead, faint ridges spiraled along the length, almost organic, like bone fused with machine. The fingers were too long, jointed twice where they shouldn't have been, ending in delicate yet unsettling tips.

Kai leaned forward, expression unreadable. "This... isn't in any textbook."

"I know." Her hands trembled as she pulled the cloth back over it. "And it doesn't even work. No mana response, no mobility. Nothing. I wasted the materials. But—"

She hesitated, eyes darting toward the closed door, as if afraid something might be listening.

"...on my way here, I saw something. On the second floor."

Kai's gaze sharpened immediately. "What?"

Selene's throat worked as she forced the words out. "A... a shadow. No, bigger. Three meters, maybe more. It was dragging a girl—an apprentice—down the hall. She wasn't moving." Her grip on the bundle whitened her knuckles. "And then it turned. It looked right at me, Kai. The mist around it felt like it was swallowing the air. I couldn't even breathe."

She shivered at the memory, her face pale. "It didn't touch me. Just... stared. And then it kept going."

Kai didn't speak at once. He reached up, rubbing his temple slowly, eyes narrowing in thought. That would have been his fate if the system hadn't arrived when it did.

Selene continued, voice lower now, as though confessing. "Before I could run, I met someone. A third-level apprentice—he called it a Shador. Said it's one of the Tower's guardians. That they take care of... expelled apprentices." Her lip trembled on the word. "Like recycling. He said I was lucky. That if I'd done anything at all—cast a spell, even flinched—it might've turned on me."

Finally, her voice faltered. "...I don't think he was lying, Kai. And the way he looked at me, it felt like... like I was an open book."

Her eyes found his, searching for steadiness in the storm.

Kai's expression didn't shift when Selene mentioned the name, but his mind froze for a fraction of a second.

Warren Flanders.

He knew that name.

A villain. A half-forgotten character from the novel he had been reading before waking up in this world. Someone who smiled as he lied, who peeled thoughts out of skulls as easily as pages from a book. A mind-reader—subtle, insidious.

The memory pressed hard, sharp as broken glass.

'But this wasn't that world, was it? The book had been far more horrific, its setting louder, characters dying like flies, besides the world was already in flames when the character appeared. this world didn't match... Or could this be a different timeline...'

'No, it's probably a Coincidence. That's all.'

Still, unease tugged at him.

Kai folded his arms, leaning back. "And this Warren. Did he say anything else?"

Selene shifted, hugging the bundle of metal against her. "That's all he said."

Kai's gaze narrowed faintly. "Well, he wasn't wrong. The Shador aren't mindless. They obey the Tower's or if there's a Tower master, they obey his will."

Her lips pressed tight. "I thought I was really going to die."

"You were," Kai said flatly. "But you didn't. That's what matters."

She flinched, then nodded.

But hesitation lingered in her eyes. "There was something strange about him. The way he looked at me... it felt..."

Kai's mind flashed again—words on paper, a figure cloaked in shadow, his voice smooth as silk. 'He knew everyone. He read them like open books.'

He let out a slow breath. "Most Third-level apprentices tend to have quirky characters. That's all. Don't get pulled in."

Selene bit her lip, then dropped her gaze.

Kai turned his eyes toward the wand resting on his desk. The black bone pulsed faintly, steady, loyal. Unlike the name still coiling in his mind.

'Warren Flanders... if it really is you, then this world isn't what I thought it was. But until I'm sure, I'll keep it buried.'

Aloud, he only said, "Now, show me this arm of yours. Let's see if you wasted your materials—or stumbled onto something new."