Chapter 2: Part II The Blackthorne’s Last Ember

The moment the gates of Blackthorne Manor shattered beneath the infernal blast, the world seemed to tilt off its axis.

Stone ruptured in jagged scars, marble pillars split with a roar like thunder, and the vaulted ceiling trembled, raining dust and shattered crystal across the blood‑slicked floor.

The air quaked heavy with smoke, flame, and the electric crackle of sorcery unleashed.

I just happen to learn mana sensing few days ago, I close my eyes and try to concentrate towards the direction where the ablaze flames comes from.

I never sense such a powerful mana emitting from anyone other than father.

Seven silhouettes loomed at the threshold, their forms framed by the burning night behind them. They radiated power so dense it seemed to bend the air itself, a pressure that made the very stones weep.

The National Hunters had come. Usually it is matter of joy because they all unite sometimes here for a joyous party, but today it seems—

But by the destruction and their expression, it seems they not just after the Blackthorne name, but for the legacy embedded in its very bones.

Behind the crumbling remains of a fallen column, Seraphina Blackthorne pressed her body protectively against mine—Lucian’s—her arm coiled like a silver chain around my chest.

Her breath came ragged, hot against my ear, and her silver hair, once a flowing cascade of moonlight is now singed at the tips, strands fluttering like burning parchment. Sweat glimmered on her brow, but her eyes burned fierce, unyielding.

"I hated that my heartbeat was always tied to hers. "

Across the hall, the smoke parted. Dorian Nightshade, the Silent Reaper, came out like a stalking panther, moving silently and with the precision of a predator's gaze. He held twin daggers in his hands that shone like crescent moons. Each blade's resonance was a hunger for blood in metal form.

He is quite a famous National Hunter known for his extreme assassination skills.

“Stand aside, impudent fool,” Seraphina said, her voice a soft blade drawn under her breath, and there was tension crackling beneath the words.

She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword which appear from her dimensional pocket, and the jade pendant at the tip pulsed with violet light, like a heartbeat made of magic. She slowly and carefully stood up, putting herself completely between me and the death that was coming for me.

“You will not touch him.”

Dorian’s lips twisted. No words, just the narrowing of his purple eyes. He lunged with a flicker, silent, precise, and deadly. His right dagger flashed down toward her heart, while the other one was ready to strike low.

Seraphina briefly caught her breath because she hadn't fought in a long time, but she kept going. She turned her feet and pointed her toes outward, just like Father had taught her. Then she slid her right heel back, lowering her stance, and her sword snapped forward in a blur of silver and violet.

“Lunar Prism!” she shouted, her voice ringing like a bell struck at midnight.

The sword erupted, discharging a blade of condensed moonlight that split the air in a piercing streak toward Dorian’s chest. The world seemed to hold its breath.

But Dorian is faster. He twists in the air, like a corkscrew, and his right dagger hits the beam, sending it flying in a burst of motes. The light spread out across the floor like broken stars. He landed behind her without making a sound. The twin blades came back down in a deadly X-shaped arc toward her back.

Seraphina’s instincts flared.

The sound of steel behind her made her turn around, and she did a smooth pirouette on the ball of her foot. Her dress spread out like a shadow in water. Her elbow shot up, stopping the blow in mid-air. Steel grinding against steel made a screech that sent sparks flying.

My mother power is almost at a same level of National Class Hunter. But only a few people knew that because it's an tradition in Blackthrone that the spouse of the family head has to stay unauthorized with the Hunter Association or the world.

With all the weight of rage and blood, her sword came down. Silver chains shot out of her other hand, moving through the air like snakes and suddenly wrapping around Dorian's wrists and ankles in a bright snare.

"Bind." Her voice was a command to the very fabric of reality.

Dorian jerked and thrashed, muscles bulging, veins rising, but the spectral chains only tightened, embedding themselves in his flesh. His daggers fell on the marble in vain.

Seraphina’s eyes glimmered with unyielding fire as she whispered the final invocation. The chains tightened—an audible crack as they tore through armor and bone alike. With a pulse of violet radiance, Dorian’s form disintegrated into ash, his scream muffled as the void swallowed him whole.

I am standing beside a pillar. I breathed out, a quivering breath escaping my lungs as Seraphina turned, brushing dust and ash from my cheek.

Lucian whisper himself "I don't understand even a single thing happening now, why National Hunters are attacking us, even if they be why guards and police did not come to help us. We are living at the midst of the city."

“Stay close to me, Lucian,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving the space where Dorian had stood. Her voice held the weight of a promise and a prayer.

Across the ruined hall, two figures clashed beneath the remnants of a shattered crystal chandelier, light refracting in fractured rainbows.

Maximilian Blackthorne, the Dark Emperor, moved like the wind at midnight: slow, steady, and like a force of nature trapped in flesh. His black blades shone like black snakes, and they slid out of their sheaths in one smooth motion.

He moved forward, his left foot three inches ahead of his right foot, and his cloak swirled around him like a living shadow. His presence was like a tidal wave of darkness that was about to break.

Facing him is the Gideon Silversword, the Sword Saint. His stance was like a fortress: his right foot was braced, his weight was on the balls of his feet, and he held the Celestial ather in both hands, its blade vibrating with divine energy.

Sword Saint is the leader of one of the biggest Guild in the world and has a record of slaying a dragon in a single strike.

Maximilian’s eyes narrowed. A single breath—and then, movement. His dark blade flashed in a sweeping arc, a black crescent born of flame and void.

“Obsidian Genesis.”

The wave erupted, fire laced with shadow, roaring toward Gideon’s knees.

Lucian standing on the above floor behind the pillar see everything from the footsteps to the final blow of his father even if can't breath in ease due to intense aura pressure, he sees how his father not heisted even a single breath to win against them.

Gideon stepped into the storm. His blade slammed against the incoming arc, sparks exploding as light clashed with darkness. The impact shook the ground, sending fissures across the marble like lightning strikes.

Without pause, Gideon launched forward, twisting his body into a spinning thrust—blade spearing toward Maximilian’s chest. The tip scraped across leather and flesh, nicking skin.

Maximilian didn’t flinch. He pivoted, stepping inside the arc of Gideon’s blade, so close their breaths mingled. With a flick of his wrist, his sword slashed, carving through Gideon’s vambrace. Steel shattered, shards spinning across the floor.

Gideon staggered, gritting his teeth as pain flashed across his face.

Maximilian’s voice came soft, like a dagger in silk. “Midnight Veil.”

The torches winked out. Darkness engulfed the hall ,a suffocating abyss of whispers, cold, and unseen menace. Without thinking, Gideon swung the sword aimlessly, cutting through the air. His breath was rough and sharp.

From the shadows, Maximilian’s blades whispered loud as he keep dragging it against the floor.

Gideon even after seeing and hearing Maximilian can't cut a single hair of him, the power of darkness.

As he raised the sword, a metallic click echoed. Gideon gasped and looked down. His gauntlet was broken at his feet, and his fingers were shaking.

Then light returned. The void unraveled. Gideon knelt, chest heaving, blade surrendered.

“I yield,” he rasped, voice hoarse and hollow.

Maximilian standing right before him sheathed his blades, the motion fluid, effortless. “Then live… as witness to the Blackthorne legacy.”

The floor shuddered, the walls groaned as Leonidas Wildborne and Ignatius Emberlord charged from the side with frustrated expression.

They both are know for their aggressive nature and impractical power.

Leonidas’s roar shook the air, his colossal axe swinging in a frenzied arc that gouged deep furrows into the marble. Ignatius followed, fists ablaze with searing, molten flame.

Due to immense energy clash the floor collapsed beneath Lucian, rubble exploding in a deafening crash. Dust and smoke billowed.

Lucian somehow manage to protect himself and hide behind a pillar.

“The clash was so fierce, so blindingly fast, that I found myself pressed against the pillar beside me, heart hammering in my chest. In my grip, night hound the sword my father used when he was at my age pulsed with ancestral fury—Father’s blade, now bound to me, its hum echoing like the voice of a thousand generations.”

Leonidas’s axe cleaved the air toward me that he intent to throw towards my father, in a unstoppable and monstrous manner.

I in hurry to escape used the third form—Sable Tempest. It not fully stable but still it is most best thing I could perform.

Though I somehow managed to halt the massive axe, my body still screamed that the danger had not passed.

My hands, flushed red and trembling, lacked the strength to even hold my sword.

Leonidas emerge at furious speed to take his axe he throw off target.

I hurriedly use the basic shadow steps, which I am most capable of—

The world bent around me, vision flickering. I appeared behind him, Due to my body instability my blade tapping his shoulder guard—but still the blow is heavy to whisper of death.

He spun, eyes wild, mouth opening for a bellow—then also he too late, I know that my attacks on him are just same as bee sting. So, I already have taken stance.

I struck the First Form of Blackthorne Eclipse.

“Obsidian Genesis!”

Night hound ignite, and a black flame shot up along its edge. My slash went up, and the first stroke cut Leonidas's right arm clean off at the shoulder. Flesh and bone broke apart, and the severed limb flew through the air.

Leonidas howled, a sound torn from the throat of a beast, but he fell forward, axe slipping from his fingers, crashing to the ground.

It is my luck that he don't know I was hiding here. If I were to fight him head on it would be just matter of seconds that he rip of my head.

Ignatius’s voice split the air as he see Leonidas laying down “Hellfire Cataclysm!”

Flames engulfed the whole area around me. The heat seared my skin, licking at my cloak, but I stood firm, breath steady, eyes narrowed. I can't lose focus now that I am in mid of fight.

“Cold-based magic… that’s the only thing that can suppress these flames. But I don’t know how to wield magic—and the First Form of Blackthorne Eclipse is useless in a situation like this. Still… standing here means death. I have to act before these flames devour me.”

A thought cut through the rising panic—sharp, sudden, undeniable.

“Mana… it’s the very force that gives nature its form. Heat, cold—both are nothing more than expressions shaped by it. If I can disrupt the thermal balance… strip away the heat, and force the cold to surge in its place—then I might just withstand this.”

I close my eyes and just focus on my mana path from core to my sword.

Mana cold as the grave surged through me. My will clashed with his fire, and the flames froze. Crystalline frost covered the fire, breaking it into brittle pieces that shattered like glass.

Ignatius stumbled, stunned, eyes wide in disbelief " Just who is this boy? I don't remember another monster like Dark Emperor".

I look at my hands in a thought I successfully change the nature of mana, thanks to the library books. But their is not much time to be happy. I advanced, Night hound singing in my grip a hymn of vengeance.

Ignatius is already halfway to complete his magic I can't just stand around waiting for a miracle to happen.

I move towards him in extreme confidence that I could behead him if I closure the distance. However, luck is called luck for a reason; it doesn't always work.

The air around me try to bend my body down to earth, the floor shatter beyond the scope of reconstruct. It is like a message from the nature that something disastrous going to happen.

Ignatius shout " I don't know who you are child but I got a feeling that I should give you ticket to heaven."

I give a smirk to his offering " Nah, If you would have given me a ticket to hell, I may have act differently."

I reply to him confidently even after in a disadvantageous position because once I read in a book.

The Blackthrone Eclipse is not merely a destructive sword art—it is a relentless sequence of annihilation. Each form is constructed to transition flawlessly into the next, causing every strike to stack upon the last, doubling its impact until the opponent is overwhelmed.

I condense mana around my body and strike forward with the most imaginable speed I could attain and swung my sword from the first form to the third form.

Ignatius is about to struck a large beam towards me with a smile that soon faded away as a dark tremendous sword slash come from sideways that ripped his hand.

Thanks to father, I don't have to force fight against such a level of magic power.

Ignatius try to unleash the same magic from his other hand which is still intact however I already started with first form Obsidian Genesis which slit his half condense power.

He try to protect himself from the after effect of mana collision but I don't plan to give him or me a rest because once I stop, I would not have power to wield the sword again.

I cut his shield by the second form Midnight Veil in a consecutive manner.

He unleashed a wall of fire to stop me, but the searing heat meant nothing. My mind was so flooded with adrenaline that I had become completely numb to the sensation of burning.

I strike him with the third form Sable Tempest with my outmost power to end him once for all.

I struck it even if I don't master it fully. The darkness swallowed him whole. His scream echoed once—then nothing.

Silence descended. The hall lay in ruin. Moonlight slanted through broken windows, painting the carnage in silver: bodies torn apart, blood pooling like rivers, the shattered bones of the Blackthorne legacy.

I struggled to steady my breath, but suddenly it felt as if every organ within me shattered like fragile glass, looks like the Blackthorne Eclipse art is still to much for me to handle.

A hot rush surged up my throat—I spat blood. I somehow try uphold my body which is almost kneeled, through the haze, I turned… my eyes to found Father—yet by then, it was already over.

A gaping wound bloomed in his chest, torn by Marcus's hand, Alaric binds the body of him, and Caius continued to flow lightning by placing his hand on my father back. Maximilian Blackthorne—the Dark Emperor—had fallen.

He grace towards me in a silent acknowledgment, his expression doesn't speak much but eyes were full of sorrow, vengeance, pitifulness but yet it gleamed with proudful honor of Blackthornes.

Ignatius and Leonidas stood beside them, whole and unharmed, as if they were reborn.

"How, they were suppose to be dead. I am sure I kill them with my own hands."

Behind Maximillian, Alaric Spellbinder gripped a staff that shimmered with an unnatural glow. The Decima Vitae Relic—etched into my memory from ancient tomes. A relic of resurrection, at a price.

Caius turn his head towards me, his laugh echoed through the hall.
“ I seen your performance, you sure live up to the name of Blackthorne But still you just a cub.”

Leonidas’s roar split the hall, a guttural bellow laced with madness.
“Kill the heir of Blackthorne! End their cursed line—let their so-called glory drown in blood!”

Ignatius’s laughter slithered after it—low, jagged, cruel.
“Ha… hahahaha… at last, we take back what was denied us—what humanity lost beneath the shadows of this monsters. The prestige of National Hunters, ripped from their corpses, shall be ours again.” His eyes burned with malice as he swept his gaze over the chamber.

He catch sight of manor “No human should hoard such power, such privilege. Once the Blackthorne fall, their wealth and status will be ours to shatter… and from their ashes, we will build a nation worthy of fear.”

Alaric’s voice cut sharp as the sound of siren comes closer and closer “No. There’s no time. Reporters and police are closing in.”

His piercing gaze locked onto me. "We can't delay them any longer. We must finish our work and vanish; staying here is far too dangerous now that the world's greatest hero is dead."

He raised his hand towards me, a mana strike gathering at his palm—raw energy arcing, hissing.

The blast shot toward me.

Seraphina moved—faster than anyone thought. She tore the jade pendant from her neck and hurled it into the air.

The pendant pulsed—a shield unfurled, deflecting the spell in a burst of violet light. The shockwave rattled the ground.

Alaric scowled. “Tch… " he gave a brief graze to Dorian and then look towards me "another time I sure to behead you.”

They discarded their weapons and vanished through the portal Alaric conjured—an reddish rift that swallowed them whole.

I turned—my breath caught.

Seraphina who was just a moment standing still collapsed, blood spilling from her lips, staining her gown, pooling beneath her like a dark halo.

“Mother!” My voice cracked as I ran to her side, falling to my knees. “What happened? I didn’t see any wounds!”

She cupped my cheek, fingers trembling, blood smearing across my skin. Her voice was a whisper. “Don’t worry, my son. Just a… small scar, nothing more.”

But the blood—it carved sigils into the floor, hissing where it touched stone. My heart clenched.

“No! It’s poison… it must have been that man!”

Suddenly a hand fell on my head. Maximilian, my father somehow with a hole in his chest stand beside me, he kneel to hold the hand of my mother. He is broken yet unyielding, his eyes reflecting a storm of grief and pride. His voice was low, a benediction.

“You have awakened the ember of Blackthorne.”

Seraphina’s tears sparkled as they fell onto my face. Her hand rested on my shoulder, a weight both tender and eternal.

“Our legacy lives… through you.”

The words formed in my mind, yet even as I thought them, they felt distant—detached from the reality unfolding before my eyes.

Father is here.

Standing.

Breathing.

everything feels impossible to happen.

“I don’t understand what is happening… how did it come to this? When did everything start falling apart? What went wrong inside these very walls that were meant to be unbreakable?"

I look up towards the celling "Why… why would Father’s most trusted comrades betray us? The same people who once stood at his side, who swore loyalty to the Blackthorne name—how could they raise their blades against him? Against us? Was all of it a lie… or did I simply fail to see the truth until it was too late?”

But their is no time to question the reality, what is happen cannot be change.

Her touch on my shoulder was gentle—too gentle.

Not the steady reassurance I had always known. Not the unshakable strength that once felt like an unbreakable shield around my world. It was soft, lingering… like she was memorizing the feel of me rather than comforting me.

My eyes searched her again.

No wound.

No blade mark.

No burn.

Yet the blood would not stop.

My thoughts stumbled, refusing to align with what I was seeing. My chest tightened, breath uneven, as if my body understood the truth long before my mind was willing to accept it.

I knelt, lowering night hound as if at an altar, the blade humming in my trembling grip.

“I swear…” My voice rang clear, steady despite the storm in my chest. “…No blade, no betrayal will ever extinguish the Blackthorne name again. Not until I ascend as the Dark Emperor”

Father one last time kneel beside my mom holding her hands " We sure you will."

The hall was silent now, but not peaceful.

Heavy.

Oppressive.

Like the world itself was holding its breath alongside me.

The manor itself seemed to exhale—a sigh of ancient magic, of legacy unbroken. And as the dawn’s first light spilled across the ruined floor, it kissed the blood, the bodies, and the last embers of Blackthorne’s flame.