It took Konrad close to a month to hone himself and establish the foundation of his nascent battle art.
In that time, the Dark City bled. The succession of the Bright Castle had turned into a war of knives in the alleys and poison in the cups. After the Second Bright Lord led his cohort on a suicidal raid against the Crimson Terror, the throne stood empty. Order collapsed. The castle, once a beacon of human power in the Forgotten Shore, was now a den of fracturing factions, infighting, and madness.
Konrad didn't know the full details. He wasn't interested in politics. But he wasn't blind to it.
By now, he had learned the names that mattered. There was Gemma, recently made the leader of the Hunters—ruthless, cunning, and already carving a reputation in the infighting. Harus, a specter more than a man, whispered about in hushed voices as the unseen butcher who would become the future right hand of the next bright lord. He is one few people you don't want to mess with, even Ling warned him.
And most importantly—Gunlaug.
He wasn't the Bright Lord. Not yet. He lived out in the fringe settlements, far from the safety of the walls. A daredevil, they called him. A madman, most agreed.
In the Dream Realm, everyone had a touch of madness. But Gunlaug's insanity stood out even among the broken. While others clung to the dying safety of the city's walls, he dove into the Dark Sea.
At dusk, he'd leap from the battlements into the black, turbulent waters, scavenging soul shards from the drowned monsters of the Crimson Labyrinth—those crushed and swept out by the great flood. At dawn, he dove again, this time into the retreating sea to tear meat and marrow from the corpses left behind by the dwellers of the deep. He did it everyday.
This is a dangerous thing to do and almost suicidal. Perhaps fortune favors the bold and that's why Gunlaug would have become the final ruler of the bright castle.
Konrad is a Nightwalker. And if someone was doing what he should've the one to do it first, it couldn't be ignored. It wasn't about pride. It was about identity. He was born to hunt in the dark depths of the seas, and he'd do it better than anyone. He has to meet this person and he did.
***
Konrad met him once, face to face. Surprisingly, the conversation was... pleasant.
Konrad first heard whispers of Gunlaug long before he ever saw the man. His name came up in hushed tones and incredulous stories, usually told over fires in dim corners of the Bright Castle. In a city clawing itself apart, Gunlaug had somehow carved a reputation not through bloodshed or politics, but through sheer lunacy—or courage, depending on who you asked.
The man hunted in the dark sea. Alone. Repeatedly. And he came back alive.
The chance to meet him came sooner than expected. Word had spread that Gunlaug was returning from a dive at dawn. Konrad made his way to the outer settlement just as the lightless tide was pulling back into the abyss, revealing twisted bones and shattered remains left by whatever stirred in the depths. Gunlaug stood knee-deep in the black water, dragging a mangled chunk of flesh onto the jagged shore. Steam curled off it in the cold morning air.
He looked younger than Konrad had imagined. Early twenties, maybe. Muscles like coiled steel, but lean from hardship. His blonde hair was slicked to his scalp, and his eyes were sunken with fatigue. His armor was a patchwork of scavenged plates, the leather warped and salt-stained. Despite the toll, he moved like a man who trusted every limb.
Konrad stepped forward, raising a hand. "You must be Gunlaug."
Gunlaug glanced at him. Then, strangely, he grinned. "Not many come out here looking for me. You got a death wish or something, Night Haunter?"
Konrad tilted his head, surprised. "You know who I am?"
"Word gets around. A kid barely a teenager appears out of nowhere, survived the six months in the crimson labyrinth and defeats veteran castle guards like they are novices. Hard to miss."
"Well, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Konrad of Night, the Night Haunter. I came to ask for advice," Konrad said simply. "About diving into the sea. I want to dive in dark sea to scavenge."
Gunlaug barked a laugh and hoisted the monster limb onto a nearby rock. It hit with a wet thud. "You want to die early, huh? Must be something in the water."
"I'm not afraid of dying," Konrad said. "But I don't plan to die easy either. I am also a Nightwalker. The sea is our domain and there we thrive."
Gunlaug studied him then, the smile fading. He wasn't mocking anymore. "You're serious. You also got a point, you are a member great legacy clan."
Konrad nodded. "I have learnt a lot from my elders and they are voyaging the Storm sea before you and me were born. Let's exchange pointers."
Gunlaug whistled low. "Now that… that's something. I am interested."
Konrad smirked. "So, will you share knowledge?"
Gunlaug didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into a satchel and pulled out a hunk of jerky. He tossed it to Konrad, who caught it without blinking.
"Lesson one," Gunlaug said.
"Never waste what you drag up. Eat it. Sell it. Study it. Whatever. It cost blood to get."
Konrad chewed. It was tough, gamey, faintly acidic. But not terrible. He nodded.
"Lesson two," Gunlaug continued, wiping his hands. "The sea doesn't care about your powers. It doesn't think. It doesn't hate. But it consumes. The moment you hesitate, you're done. Don't think of it like water. Think of it like a mouth. And you're inside."
Konrad nodded. "The sea is like the abyss. Very few people understands the horror of the depths. Anyway, why do you hunt alone."
"Because no one else is stupid enough. Not really. You must have underwater breathing capability. Not many does and among those who have it, none mad enough. You dive alone. You die alone. That's the rule."
Gunlaug continued. "At dusk, the dark sea rises and covers the ruins of the Crimson Labyrinth. If you're fast, you can grab soul shards from the corpses left behind by the flood. But the creatures from the depths rise with it. At dawn, the water pulls back. What's left are the scraps. Less valuable, but safer. Safer… not safe."
Konrad nodded slowly. He was building a picture in his mind. Scenarios. Variables. The timing of the tide. The angle of visibility. Enemy patterns. Escape options. He could see it all in flashes.
"And you've been doing this since… when?"
"Since I was dumb enough to lose everything else."
Konrad didn't press. Some stories didn't need telling.
Gunlaug tilted his head. "You're already thinking through it, huh? You don't move like a fool. I'll give you that."
"I move like someone who's seen too much to be lucky."
Gunlaug clapped him on the shoulder. "You might just survive. But here's my advice. You want to do this? Do it for something. Not just pride. Not just strength. That water has a way of showing you things you didn't want to see. If you don't have an anchor, it'll pull you under."
Konrad was silent for a while.
Then he said, quietly, "I do it because I have to be stronger than what comes next."
Gunlaug gave him a long look. Then he nodded. "That'll do."
Then Konrad started sharing the House of Night's knowledge about diving in dangerous waters, the distant sound of waves licking the bone shore. Then Konrad stood.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just try not to die. It is very hard to stay alive you know."
"I know." Konrad said he left the place.
Besides, he had clairvoyance. Danger wasn't just something he sensed—it was something he saw before it came. That vision, that flicker of the near future, let him slip away from jaws, tendrils, and abyssal horrors before they even appeared.
Once his battle art was complete, Konrad started diving too. He left the Bright Castle and started living in one of towers of the ancient wall of dark city.
Every evening, he descended the battlements. The Dark Sea stretched before him like a wound, ink-black and bottomless. The starsless sky above offered no discomfort. He carries the bloodline of Goddess of Dark Skies after all. He was a Nightwalker. The dark abyss of depths is his domain.
The wind carried salt, rot, and whispers from things that should not speak. But Konrad didn't flinch. He stepped to the edge, inhaled the chill, and leapt.
He jumped from the wall for the first time under a blood-orange dusk. The sea below wasn't water—it was black hunger. It churned and heaved like something breathing. He inhaled slowly, closed his eyes, and let go.
Impact.
The cold water refreshed his being. Konrad is going to use his [Nightwalker] attribute for the purpose it was intended for.
For a moment, he couldn't see, couldn't think. But then his mind adjusted. The clairvoyance kicked in. Ripples of possible futures bloomed in his vision like ghostly afterimages. A flicker of something large brushing past below. A jagged piece of wreckage spiraling toward him. He moved—not with panic, but with the fluid certainty of someone walking a path already laid.
He swam toward what remained of the Crimson Labyrinth's beasts. Bones tangled in seaweed. Chunks of hide the size of houses. Strange organs that pulsed with residual essence. He worked fast, slicing, pulling, harvesting soul shards from within the husks before the shadows stirred deeper down.
He felt them watching. Things that had no name.
The visions flared—spikes of teeth, tendrils, pressure waves. He didn't wait to see if they would or wouldn't him. He moved.
Back to the wall. Back to safety.
It became routine. Every dusk and dawn. Dive. Harvest. Escape. Each time, he pushed a little farther. Trusted the visions more. Refined the calculations. He trained not just his body, but his mind—to process more data, to extract more from the glimpses of the future. Movement trajectories. Pressure shifts. The timing of a predator's strike. The minute changes in temperature that came before something massive rose from below.
As days passed, Konrad became more proeiffient in his family business.
People began to whisper. Not just about Gunlaug anymore.
There was another madman now. One who dived into the dark sea, came back with essence-soaked prizes, and came back alive without any injuries.
The name Night Haunter is getting more and more infamous.