CHAPTER 283: CHAPTER 283: THE FORGOTTEN BROTHER’S MANUAL

The dust thinned, drifting across the arena floor as silence pressed over the crowd. When the haze finally cleared, Noel stood upright, Revenant Fang still at his side. Dior was on one knee, his chest glowing faintly with the activated defensive artifact strapped beneath his uniform. The barrier shimmered—proof that Noel’s strike had landed decisively. Without the artifact’s intervention, Dior would have collapsed.

The referee stepped forward, raising a hand. "Victory goes to Noel Thorne from the Imperial Academy of Valor!"

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, cheers rolling through the coliseum like a crashing wave. Dior exhaled, expression calm, almost respectful despite his loss. He allowed himself to be escorted out, body still sparking faintly from the remnants of Noel’s attack. Noel lifted Revenant Fang briefly, offering no grand display, and turned his back on the noise.

As he left the arena floor, a shadow stirred at his heels. Noir slipped from the darkness, her gleaming eyes fixed on Noel. The wolf had remained hidden throughout the battle—any appearance in the open would have risked disqualification. Now, with the fight concluded, she padded silently at Noel’s side, merging with the crowd’s deafening approval.

The corridor beyond the arena felt colder, quieter. Dozens of participants were gathered, each checked thoroughly by officials for illegal sigils, slave marks, or traces of enhancers. Noel passed without issue, his victory already the talk of every mouth nearby.

The door creaked open. Elena stepped inside the resting chamber, her student council uniform a striking gray lined with crimson. The colors clashed vividly against her platinum-blond hair and golden eyes.

"How are you?" she asked softly.

Noel rolled his shoulder, flexing his arm with mock bravado. "Fine." He raised his bicep as if to prove it.

Elena chuckled, shaking her head. "You don’t have to do that. I believe you. But you should still rest, and you know it."

"I know," Noel admitted. His eyes flicked past her. "Where’s Elyra? I thought you two were always together in the stands. Usually with Charlotte too... though she’s still recovering."

Elena adjusted her sleeves. "Elyra met with Noriel again. They’re finalizing details about their arrangement."

Noel arched a brow. "She’s serious about earning money then."

"She said it before," Elena murmured, ears twitching faintly. "She wants to start as soon as possible."

Noel tilted his head, studying her. "Something that bold, coming from you, Elena? That’s rare."

A flush colored her pointed ears. "Mmm... I’m only saying I support her. Besides... she already had her first time."

Noel blinked. "I see. You feel bad about last night?"

Elena’s smile turned soft. "No. Of course not. You were exhausted, and I understand. Everything that’s happened here in Tharvaldur hasn’t been easy—especially for you."

He leaned closer, voice low. "I’ll make it up to you."

Her golden eyes flickered with curiosity. "How?"

"When we return," Noel said, "we’ll go on a date. The Hunt Festival is being held this year in Nivaria territory. I’ve never been there. We can visit before the festival begins."

Elena’s lips curved into a smile. "It’s a promisse then."

Night fell. Noel returned to his assigned quarters but did not stay long. Instead, he slipped quietly into Charlotte’s room. She was still asleep on the bed, her breathing steady, recovering from the blessing she gave. Noel moved carefully, not daring to wake her.

He sat at the small desk, pulling from his dimensional pouch the book he had earned as a system reward—The Forgotten Brother’s Manual. Its black cover was etched with faint runes, faded yet oppressive. Noel opened the pages, candlelight casting shadows across his face.

The text was dense, written in cryptic language, but fragments spoke clearly: techniques of shadow, movements unseen, skills honed in betrayal and blood. One phrase in particular caught his eye—Shadow Step.

The pages described it as slipping into one shadow and emerging from another, a technique of infiltration and evasion. Dangerous, but invaluable.

’This is what Noir always uses right?’

Noir emerged from the floor, her form larger than before. Her shoulders were broader, her fur glimmering faintly under the light. The wolf’s growth was noticeable now, nearing the threshold of Ascendant rank. Noel glanced at her, a faint smirk crossing his lips.

"Teach me," Noel whispered, sliding the book toward him. "Or at least try."

Noir’s ears flicked. She padded silently across the room, her paws making no sound against the floorboards. Then, with a ripple, her body sank into the shadow cast by the desk. For a heartbeat she was gone, nothing but silence. Then she reappeared at the far corner, stepping out of the wardrobe’s shadow with casual ease. Her tail swished once, the motion almost smug.

"Again," Noel urged.

Noir repeated the movement. Shadow to shadow, flowing seamlessly. Each time, she looked back at Noel expectantly, urging him to mimic her.

Noel closed the manual and steadied himself. He inhaled sharply. "Shadow Step!" His body flickered, wrapped in black haze, before collapsing into the wrong angle. In the blink of an eye, he slammed headfirst into the underside of the bed.

"Thud!"

"Ugh—!" Noel groaned, clutching his forehead.

The noise stirred Charlotte awake. She sat up, her pink hair a tousled mess, golden eyes narrowing at the sight before her: Noel halfway stuck under the bed, shadows still clinging to his body.

Her voice was sharp, dangerously calm. "Noel Thorne. What exactly are you doing down there?"

Noel froze. ’Shit, full name? She’s truly mad...’

Noir sat elegantly by the bedside, her tail sweeping against the floor in slow amusement. Her expression—if a wolf could wear one—looked far too entertained.

"I... dropped something," Noel muttered, scrambling backward out of the shadow. "Under the bed."

Charlotte’s stare deepened, the use of his full name like a dagger. "Mm-hm."

Noel forced a crooked smile. "Training. That’s all."

Charlotte sighed, muttering something under her breath before lying back down. Noir padded to Noel’s side, brushing his leg with her fur, as if encouraging him to try again later.

The candle flickered. Noel’s gaze lingered on the manual, its pages glowing faintly with promise. His first attempt had been clumsy, humiliating even—but the path was clear. Shadow to shadow, step to step.