Incredulous both mother and the man look at me while she notices a shadow that is approaching on the flood from her blindside, face paling she suddenly surrounds herself with a protective bubble of yellow aura. Feeling safer I let out a breath of relief and hope that my mother isn’t in the mood for interrogations of why I spoke so fluidly.

“You summoned a dark stalker?” My mother's face is filled with rage at both the man and the ‘thing’ on the floor trying to break the bubble but to no avail. “So those old men actually used the assassins guild to put a contract on our heads? Unforgivable.”

While laughing in disbelief my mother's aura turns cold as ice looking at the man, the man, in turn, flinches from the pressure and backs away two steps, with a voice filled with false bravado he proclaims.

“Yo-You are an archmaster of the third level? Impossible! At such a young age, to wield so much power you are indeed worthy of your titles.” Like a true professional the man that was startled regeined his composure while unsheating a dark dagger, chills spread across my body as my mana ressonates with it.

Feelings of the void, darkness, and loneliness compress against my body and thoughts, I reach for those feelings neither distressed nor fearful. After a while, something inside of me snaps, old feelings of rage come flooding out of me and as I extend my arm as if reaching towards the man's dagger. ‘Why is this man, with no grievances towards us, trying his best to kill my loved ones?’

As I mutter in my head time seems to stop and the dagger becomes black as a starless night, I reach deeper in the void inside of me, looking at my arm I realize it's pitch black while my hand is clawed and morphed. My mother seeing this lets go of me wordlessly, while retreating she sends me a fearful look because of my appearance. ‘Who can blame her, I must look like some sort of monster with this pitch black arm.’

Everyone looks at my appearance, eyes shining with fear of the unknown monster before them.

“Monster!”

“God help us, it’s a demon!”

“Impossible an elve turning to a demon, the virus suffered a mutation?!”

Listening to the reaction of the hidden men and the main assassin, I focus my hearing on my mother's whisper.

“T-that is m-my son…?!”

My heart starts to bleed after hearing such melancholic cry but I still focus on the shadowy monster and the dagger, then taking a step, I will the dagger to me and sure enough, the dagger comes flying towards my now clawed hands all the while I exit the protective barrier created by mother. Analyzing myself, I realize that in this state I’ve grown to have the body of a ten-year-old child, so I use the newly acquired reach of my hands to stab the sharp object in to the 'dark stalker' making it wriggle and suffer while pinned down, and with the other hand, dark mana starts to gather and forms around the necks of the assassins, this mana is cold, dark and unforgiving.

A smile appears on my face as I watch them silently die of air deprivation.

Sygni's (POV)

I see my darling son try to extend his arm, but soon I realize the bizarre color of his arm and let go of him in a panic.

He transforms, lacking any better words, into a monster. Such thing is impossible but it happens right in front of me as his body becomes larger. Darkness exudes through his body making him seem like a shadow in a poorly lit room. Black smoke emanates from his skin pores and his appearance is impossible to discern and ethereal in form.

Then the startled hidden men who a minute ago filled with bravado seem to deflate and start to yell in fear. While listening to them I hear that he might have contracted the virus, but it’s just too different, this is something else, something cold and dark. Fearing that my baby son has turned into a monster, unable to turn back from this 'thing', my face contracts in pain and worry.

Turning his head sharply he looks at my face, all that I notice are the eyes that are red like rubies, in them I see is heartbreak and after a moment he again focuses on the assailants. Slowly he walks out of the magical shield that I painstakingly worked for and with swift and unparalleled movements for such a small child he stabs the dark stalker.

Petrified by the vision of my child defeating something that even I would struggle to kill I stagger and fall to the floor ruining my white and yellow dress.

He lifts his arm, and darkness surrounds the neck of the assailants as they start to choke and lose consciousness. Unable to suppress my fear and astonishment I think inside my head.

‘My darling son, is he a deamon? Bu-but if so, how can he use magic without a totem granted by the gods? The demons are incapable of magic, granted, they have strong bodies and physical strength to match it, but they aren’t pitch black like this and they have rotten spots in their bodies, even missing limbs, but this...this is impossible.’

Folowing this line of thought I hold a little spark of hope that his state could be reversed.

“Mother, I am sorry. I’ve lied to you and father…” My son speaks to me with a warped voice and I finally realize that what covers him is mana. ‘He is able to talk in that state of pure dark mana, I would have chocked?’ My head spins while my body trembles.

“I-I’ve been holding myself back as to appear normal this whole time, but I can’t explain the why of my condition right now nor why I deceived you and father.” With a flip of his small wrist the men's neck twist in unhealthy ways. To me, death is no stranger, but for my child to be able to even bear the burden of killing is just…

Then I notice the aura receding and disappearing, as my child turns back to the angelic cherub with a toothy smile that I know. My mind washes in relief from this and I stare flabbergasted at my baby boy, I want to pick him up and embrace him but I can't move as my body seems paralyzed, then I hear a rustle to my right, I know who it is immediately and I don't bother looking.

“What is going on, why the gloomy faces?” My husband says while shooting his trademark grin.

Then he sees the caravan and frowns. “They targeted you too? to be honest, they were pretty strong are you guys ok?"

He comes closer to me and helps me up, then looking around to search for anything that can be salvaged he notices for the first time the massacre, with our son standing right in the middle of the men with the twisted necks. Lifting an eyebrow he asks silently, expecting the answer to come from me, my son replies first to his questions.

“It was me who did this father.”