Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For centuries, humanity walked blindly through the world, drunk on the illusion of supremacy.

They built cities that kissed the sky and forged empires from dust and steel, crowned themselves kings of civilization, and called it progress. In their arrogance, they believed they had tamed the wild.

That they had conquered the night.

They were wrong.

The truth was never theirs to know.

Beneath their feet, beyond their sight, within the whispers of ancient forests and the heartbeat of forgotten ruins—myth walked.
Vampires, werewolves, witches, elves, sirens, and creatures older than time itself—beings of power, legend, and darkness—lived among them, hidden in plain sight. Watching. Waiting. Enduring.

And in the heart of Europe stood the city of Virmarion, where myth had not just survived—it had thrived.

Once a blood-soaked battlefield of forgotten gods and shadowed titans, Virmarion had since grown into a gothic sprawl of secrets and silence. Its cobblestone streets bore the weight of centuries, and its air was always thick with the scent of magic, old and patient. Every alley hid a story. Every stone had bled.

Virmarion was more than a city. It was a living archive of power, and its true rulers were never human.

For millennia, the vampires ruled the city’s underbelly with an elegance as terrifying as it was beautiful. They were not the caricatures of horror tales nor the tortured lovers of bedtime myths. They were predators. Aristocrats of the dark. And they lived in covens bound by blood, oath, and legacy.

At the heart of this secret empire stood the greatest of them all—the Royal Coven of Virmarion.

It was not simply a family—it was a bloodline, a divine force of nature passed through centuries of pure, undiluted vampiric heritage. King Vernon, the Crimson Sovereign of the North, whose voice alone could silence wars. King Wonwoo, his eternal mate, the Iron Eclipse of the South, known for wisdom that unraveled curses and eyes that saw through deception. And their only son—Prince Sunghoon—young, brilliant, feared, and beloved. His blood was said to sing with power so ancient that even the stars bent slightly in his presence.

Though the royals rarely stayed within the coven walls, their absence did not mark a lack of control. It marked a deeper game—one of legacy, of fate, of an ancient hunt still unfinished. The kings were seekers, wanderers not out of boredom but necessity. As if something beyond even their comprehension called to them across time.

In their absence, the coven was governed by the Elder Council—a circle of the oldest vampires still awake, each one a nightmare in their own right. They upheld the laws, maintained the fragile peace between species, and quelled rebellions before they could rise.

But even the elders, for all their might and myth, knew the truth.

Their rule was borrowed. Their power, temporary.

When the royal family returned—be it after a decade or a century—even the eldest bowed.

Still, the Elder Council hid a truth even darker than the city’s bloodstained history.

There were other covens. Other royal families. Other powers that ruled distant lands. But none matched the scope, the legacy, the sheer gravitational pull of Virmarion’s royal bloodline. They were the center of the web. The beating heart of the vampire world.

And yet—a storm was coming.

There was a whisper. A memory buried so deep even time had tried to forget it. That there once lived a lineage of vampires more powerful than even the kings. Beings whose blood predated royalty, whose presence twisted the very fabric of reality. Neither dead nor living. Neither legend nor lie.

Ancient, sleeping gods of night and power.

Their names had been scrubbed from records, erased from memory. But the earth remembered. The wind still screamed their names on cursed nights. And Virmarion trembled in her bones.

Something was awakening.

A coldness not born of winter began to seep through the city's soul. Shadows deepened. Magic thinned. Witches closed their shops earlier. Wolves howled with unease. And the blood of the royal son—Sunghoon—began to burn strangely in his veins.

Some said it was a call.
Others said it was a curse.

But the oldest of the elders, eyes clouded with time and terror, knew the truth.

The balance was breaking.

And with it, the night would never be the same.

Chapter Text

Sunoo had always been treated as an outcast, a misplaced soul wandering a world that had no name for what he truly was. People whispered, pointed, looked away. Some pitied him. Others feared him. But none truly knew him—not even he himself. Because the truth of Sunoo’s existence was not merely hidden; it was buried, wrapped in layers of silence so deep that even the echoes refused to speak it.

To the world, he was a misfit. A shadow lingering where it didn’t belong. An orphan with no history, no lineage, no legacy. A dead end. A stain. A pariah. But the truth? The truth was a wildfire that could not be contained—and once it burned free, it would reshape everything.

His parents were not nameless vagabonds nor tragic nobodies. They were Eunwoo and Minhyun—names unspoken in the vampire world, names tied to power so ancient and feared, they had been scorched from memory. Not enemies. Not allies. Something else. Something other.

To Sunoo, though, they were simply his dads. Gentle hands and warm smiles. Midnight lullabies and snowy evenings. The ones who wrapped him in blankets and stories, who taught him not just how to survive, but how to live.

They lived far from the noise of the world, in the outskirts of Virmarion, where the trees whispered old secrets and magic hummed beneath the soil. But even that quiet didn’t last. War came—swift and brutal, like a scythe in the dark. Sunoo was only four. Too young to understand. Too old to forget. They fled across oceans and continents, chasing shadows and safety, until they found a sliver of peace in the cold, silver-lit mountains of Elaris, nestled in the wild edges of Alaska where even time seemed to slow its breath.

To young Sunoo, it was paradise. A winter cradle. A world blanketed in silence and serenity.
He never questioned why they were hiding.

His parents were always protective. Their eyes constantly scanning the treeline. Their voices hushed when night fell. There were wards around the cabin—runes in languages Sunoo couldn’t yet read—but he never asked. Because in their presence, he felt safe. Loved. Whole.

They taught him kindness, compassion, justice. That goodness was a strength, not a weakness. That being different did not make him broken—it made him chosen. And though he didn’t yet know what that meant, he believed them.

He was powerful. They knew. And deep down, so did he.

Then came the night everything shattered.

On the eve of his eighteenth birthday, beneath a blood-orange moon, the mountains trembled with a presence too foul to belong. A coordinated assault—rogue vampires, their eyes red with madness, their laughter like broken glass. They came not just to kill—but to cleanse. To erase what should not exist.

They thought he was just a child.

They never made it out alive.

Sunoo’s world ended in the screams of his parents. In their final, desperate stand. In the blood that soaked the snow like ink on paper. And in the moment his scream ripped through the forest, something ancient awakened inside him—a raw, untamed storm of fury and power so absolute that even time seemed to pause in terror.

He didn’t remember how it happened.

He only remembered the silence afterward.

Not a single attacker left breathing. The trees were scorched black. The snow melted. The mountains wept.

Sunoo buried their bodies with trembling hands. Alone. Frozen. Forever changed. And then he walked—into the unknown, into a world that had never wanted him. Not as prey. Not as savior. Not as anything.

But he walked anyway.

To learn. To grow. To become something the world could no longer ignore.

Years passed.

The boy disappeared. The legend was born.

The young pariah became known. Feared. Revered. His name is a curse in some tongues, a prayer in others. Vampires speak it with clenched jaws. Witches flinch at his scent. Werewolves track his movement like he’s the moon itself.

They call him the White Death Dealer.

A ghost cloaked in vengeance. A myth with silver eyes and death in his veins. A walking reckoning.

But Sunoo knows the truth. He is no hero. He never asked to be. And he doesn't care.

He doesn’t fight for fame or glory. He fights for balance. For the quiet whisper of right and wrong his parents carved into his soul. He fights for the voiceless. For the forgotten. For the small and the scared. Because no matter how monstrous the world believes he is, his heart still burns with the love that raised him.

A part of him knows—his parents would’ve wanted him to remain hidden. Safe. Anonymous.

But he also knows this: they’d be proud.

Because even in a world that called him an abomination, Sunoo became a force of justice. Of fury. Of grace.

ཐི⋆ཋྀ

Centuries passed, and with them, the echo of time carved itself deep into Sunoo’s soul. The world around him changed—empires rose and fell, cities turned to ruins and were born anew—but he remained. He had come of age. No longer a fledgling, no longer the lost boy who once stood alone in a snow-covered graveyard, Sunoo had ripened into the full breadth of his immortality. Three hundred years old now, he was a figure of myth among those who whispered of monsters and legends in the same breath.

Wiser. More powerful. Unimaginably experienced.
And yet… even in the stillness he had carved for himself, even in the fleeting illusion of peace—something stirred. A whisper in the dark. A familiar dread that gnawed at his bones and clawed its way through the serenity he had fought so hard to claim.

And then… the news came.

From the ashes of his homeland, across seas and shadows, a message found him.

Mythical creatures were vanishing.
One after another. Without trace. Without reason.
And something deep inside him—instinct, blood, memory—called him home.

Upon his return, Sunoo moved through the streets of Virmarion like a living ghost. A shadow made flesh. The city, ancient and pulsing with buried power, barely acknowledged his presence, yet the night itself seemed to tremble in his wake. Every step he took was deliberate, silent—a predator in the cradle of his origin.

He was a study in paradox.

Cloaked in black, his figure melted into the darkness, yet his alabaster skin shimmered with an ethereal light, as if touched by moonfire. Silver eyes, cold and bottomless, flickered like mirrors of distant stars. And his hair—white as fresh snow—fell past his waist like a river of winter silk, catching the faintest gleam of the city’s dim lamps.

Too beautiful. Too still. Too cold.
He did not walk. He glided. The laws of gravity bowed to him, as if the earth itself could not bear the weight of his presence.

But even with all his poise, something felt wrong.

The air was off—tainted. Thick with the scent of old blood... and something fouler. Older. Hungrier. The city had always carried the heartbeat of the supernatural, but now it pulsed with a different rhythm—one of decay, of corruption.

His senses sharpened like drawn blades. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. The night whispered warnings only immortals could hear.

And then—a shriek. Piercing. Raw. Desperate.

Sunoo’s eyes snapped to the source before the echo could even settle. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into motion, trailing shadows as he traced the sound into a narrow, damp alley. There, beneath the fractured glow of a broken streetlamp, a woman trembled in fear. Beside her stood a man, clutching a bat, shielding her with every ounce of mortal courage he could muster.

“What is happening here?” Sunoo’s voice cut through the darkness, smooth as silk, sharp as winter ice.

The man turned toward him, startled—until his eyes caught movement above.

And Sunoo reacted.

In a flash, his arm whipped up, fingers closing around cold steel—a dagger mid-flight, its tip gleaming inches from his face, dripping with poison thick as tar.

A guttural snarl broke from the shadows above.

“Show yourself,” Sunoo hissed, his tone a command that could shatter bone.

The figure dropped from the rooftop.

Its form landed in a crouch, twitching, inhuman. It jerked like a puppet pulled by broken strings. Its skin was sickly grey, veined with crawling black rot. And its eyes—glowing green, unnatural, unholy. Its lips parted in a twisted grin, revealing teeth slicked in blackened blood.

This thing—this mockery of life—was no vampire.
Not a werewolf. Not a creature he had ever encountered.
It was something else. Something new.

“Run!” Sunoo barked, not taking his eyes off the creature.

The woman hesitated, but the man pulled her to run. As they fled, the man looked back—one last glance, haunted and lingering.

Sunoo shattered the poisoned dagger in his hand with a flick of his wrist, the shards glinting like falling stars as they rained down toward the creature. Each fragment struck true, embedding deep into its flesh.

The creature shrieked—a sound like rusted metal dragged across bone—and windows around them trembled.

Sunoo was already in motion.

A blur. A storm. A force of nature.

He surged forward, twisting midair, evading claws that sliced through empty space. His fist connected with the creature’s chest—a blow so powerful, the brick wall behind it cracked and collapsed as it was thrown back, crumbling into dust.

But it wasn’t over.

The thing rose again.

Its body cracked and spasmed, black ooze spilling from its wounds. Yet its green eyes still glowed. Still hunted. With a feral cry, it lunged forward—faster. More savage.

Sunoo’s grin was razor-sharp. His fangs glinted beneath the moonlight.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

And then he vanished.

The creature skidded to a halt, confused. The alley was silent once more, still and empty—until the sky cracked.

Sunoo dropped from above, hands ablaze with crackling blue energy. He slammed into the creature’s back like a meteor, the force sending shockwaves through the ground, shattering nearby glass, and cratering the concrete.

The creature wailed—its death cry a banshee’s song—before it crumbled into ash, blown away by the wind.

Sunoo stood above the smoldering remains.

His breathing was calm. Collected.
But his eyes were sharp. Watching.
Waiting.

Because he knew—this wasn’t the end. It was the first note in a symphony of darkness.

The streets were quiet again.
Too quiet.

And then… the air thickened. The dread returned. The moon, once a beacon of silver serenity, now hid behind a curtain of churning clouds. An ominous hum filled the night—not sound, but vibration, like the pulse of something massive stirring beneath the earth.

From the shadows…

They came.

Chapter Text

A horde of twisted creatures—warped, grotesque, and brimming with malignant energy—crawled out from the shadows like nightmares given form. Their eyes blazed an unnatural, virulent green—the same as the one Sunoo had just destroyed. Their skin was pulled so tight across skeletal frames it looked ready to tear, their elongated limbs twitching with a hunger that had never known rest. From their jaws, thick strings of blackened ooze dripped onto the cobblestones, sizzling softly where it landed. They didn’t charge. They circled, like wolves, with the slow, cold cruelty of predators savoring the fear of their prey.

Sunoo’s silver eyes narrowed, calm but burning with calculation. His senses sharpened to a razor’s edge, heart steady, hands humming faintly with pulsing blue energy. He didn’t blink. He simply watched. Counted. Too many. Far more than anticipated. This wasn't an ambush. This was an invasion. But he couldn’t make a scene—not yet. Not when too many eyes, both mortal and monstrous, might be watching.

“Where are they coming from?” he muttered, slipping effortlessly into a defensive stance, every muscle coiled like a drawn bowstring.

Then—a blur sliced through the night like a blade through silk.

A figure, cloaked in midnight and vengeance, dropped from the sky and hit the ground with a thunderous crash. He moved like a prince of shadows—fluid, silent, deadly. His blade was out before he even hit the ground, a silver arc whistling through the air as it sliced toward Sunoo.

Sunoo evaded without flinching. He didn’t step aside—he glided, the attack missing him by mere inches. The movement was a whisper, a ripple in the night. The mistake, however, had already been made. The creatures roared in response, driven to frenzy by the clash of power.

The stranger's eyes, alight with rage and confusion, narrowed as he lunged again—this time for the kill, the blade flashing toward Sunoo’s throat.

But Sunoo moved faster.

He caught the blade between two fingers—two fingers—stopping it cold. The steel trembled in his grip.

“Surrender now,” the stranger snarled, pushing harder.

“You fool,” Sunoo snapped, his voice as sharp as broken glass.

With a flick of his wrist, Sunoo disarmed him. The force sent the stranger flying back, slamming into the street with a jarring thud. His blade clattered and spun away, ringing out as it struck stone. Dazed, the vampire stared up at the silver-eyed stranger standing over him, utterly unfazed. For the first time in a century, he had been overpowered. Effortlessly.

Sunoo's gaze was like steel dipped in ice. “Do you want to waste time fighting me, or live long enough to see tomorrow?”

The vampire scrambled up, eyes flicking from his opponent to the creatures closing in. He clenched his jaw. No time for pride. No time for questions.

“Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He retrieved his blade and lunged into the fray. His sword danced through the darkness, slicing through the first creature cleanly. It howled and burst into ash before it hit the ground. Another followed. Then another.

But Sunoo? Sunoo moved like death given form.

He was a blur—faster than the vampire’s trained eyes could follow. Energy pulsed from his hands in arcs of brilliant blue lightning, tearing through the horde with devastating precision. Each crack of his power lit the alley in ghostly light, shadows dancing wildly on the walls as creatures exploded into ash mid-scream. He moved without pause, without fear, and without mercy. His expression never changed. Cold. Unbothered. Efficient.

The vampire stranger, trying to keep up, carved a path through the monsters, but his attention kept returning to the mysterious vampire at his side. Who fights like that? Not even royal blood could match such speed, such raw precision.

A monstrous creature lunged at him from behind—too close.

But it never reached him.

In a split-second blur, Sunoo was there. His hand closed around the creature’s throat. A sickening crack echoed through the alley as he snapped its neck like brittle wood.

The vampire barely had time to register it before another wave of the horde surged toward them. They came from everywhere—skittering across rooftops, slithering along walls, pouring in with horrifying speed.

“We need to split them up!” the stranger shouted between labored breaths, his blade coated in black sludge.

“I don’t take orders from you,” Sunoo said icily, before unleashing a shockwave of power that blasted five creatures through the buildings behind them. Walls cracked. Glass shattered. The street groaned beneath the force. So much for keeping a low profile.

Despite the tension bristling between them, they moved in tandem. It wasn’t trust—but instinct. Mutual survival. The flicker of something deeper passed between them, a strange heat in the stranger’s chest he didn’t understand. Both their eyes briefly glowed blue, but neither acknowledged it.

Then—they surged forward again.

The stranger’s blade carved through necks and torsos in a flurry of silver arcs. Sunoo danced among the chaos like lightning incarnate. Bodies disintegrated before they even touched him. For every monster the stranger cut down, Sunoo destroyed five.

“There’s no end to them!” the vampire growled.

Sunoo said nothing. With a surge of power, he leapt—twenty feet straight up—and landed atop a building. From above, he raised his hands, energy coalescing between his fingers.

Blue lightning rained down like divine wrath.

The ground quaked. Screams filled the night, only to be swallowed by silence and ash. Rain began to fall—soft at first, then heavy, soaking the cobblestones in crimson streaks and scorched dust.

The vampire looked up, awe-struck, heart pounding. “Who the hell are you?”

Sunoo landed beside him with a crash that cracked the stone. The ground trembled beneath his feet. They faced the final wave—larger, more vicious, drooling venom from elongated fangs.

Their eyes met. No words.

They charged.

Together, they tore through the monsters. The vampire’s sword a blur of silver; Sunoo’s power crackling with cold fury. Each strike landed with lethal purpose. Every creature that dared approach was reduced to smoke and bone.

And then—it was over.

The street was littered with ash, the rain washing away the last traces of the battle. The vampire stood heaving, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sunoo looked untouched, not even winded.

“You’re not bad,” he muttered, wiping his blade. “But you could’ve killed me back there.”

Sunoo turned, voice like frost. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be ash by now.”

“Hey, wait up!” the stranger shouted after him, catching him by the arm as thunder growled across the sky.

Sunoo turned slowly, silver eyes glowing with threat. The tension between them cracked like lightning overhead.

“Who are you?” he demanded, hand gripping tighter. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

Something inside the vampire shifted. A feeling he couldn’t name. Familiarity? Or madness?

Then, Sunoo’s eyes dropped to his hand—to the royal ring gleaming beneath the rain. Recognition flashed in his eyes, too fast to mask. The stranger was no other than the vampire prince, Sunghoon.

He yanked free with a violent motion. “Stay away from me,” he hissed, every word dipped in warning.

He turned—but Sunghoon moved to follow.

“I asked you a question—”

Before he could finish, a dagger exploded from Sunoo’s cloak, flying like a silent missile. It struck the stone wall behind Sunghoon, pinning the edge of his cloak with surgical precision.

The force threw Sunghoon back. His breath caught. For a moment, he stood frozen, shocked by how effortlessly he’d been stopped.

“Hey!” he shouted, voice echoing off the drenched alley.

But the stranger was gone—swallowed by the shadows as if he’d never been there.

Sunghoon’s heart thundered. He ripped the dagger free and stared into the dark.

Who the hell was that?

His eyes dropped to the dagger’s path—perfect, deliberate, inescapable. His fingers brushed the royal ring at his side, and the memory of the glint in those silver eyes returned.

The recognition.

The warning.

“Who are you…?” he whispered, voice drowned by the rain, the question lost to the night as he stared into the darkness where Sunoo had vanished.

And in his chest, something unknown stirred.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, as Sunoo walked deeper into the heart of the city, the shadows seemed to stretch longer, clinging to the crumbling stone walls like dark whispers echoing secrets of a cursed past. The weight of his earlier encounter pressed down on him like a phantom hand, cold and relentless. He exhaled slowly, the breath curling in the chilled night air, frustration simmering beneath his otherwise composed demeanor.

Tonight had offered no solace, no clarity. The darkness had yielded only more questions—where were these grotesque creatures emerging from, and who or what had stirred them from whatever abyss they called home? His thoughts were a storm of uncertainty. And now, as if fate hadn’t already twisted the knife, a royal vampire from the ancient coven had seen him.

Not just any vampire.

Prince Sunghoon.

Sunoo’s silver eyes flickered, his mind unraveling at a thousand threads. If Sunghoon reported back to the royal family, the secrecy of his mission—his very presence—would be exposed. His return to the city had been deliberate, hidden beneath layers of deception and shadow. But now, with one impulsive, meddlesome prince, everything teetered on the edge of collapse.

He slipped into the shelter of a narrow alley, the stone walls pressing in on either side like a crypt. Leaning back against the cold rock, he closed his eyes for a heartbeat, gathering the storm inside him. His gaze lifted to the skyline, where the moon, veiled behind thin clouds, cast a pale sheen over the city’s decaying beauty.

Of all the vampires to run into... His jaw clenched, bitterness curdling his thoughts. The night had taken a wicked, unpredictable turn.

His hand twitched at his side, hovering near the hilt of his blade. The creatures he’d encountered earlier were only a prelude—foreshadows of something ancient and ravenous slithering back into the world. Something that slumbered in myth and nightmare. And now... it was waking.

Only he could stop it.

The wind shrieked down the alley, tousling his white hair like icy fingers. His coat fluttered around him as he straightened, his spine snapping to attention. His resolve, once cracked by uncertainty, was now reforged in grim determination. There was no space left for doubt. No room for fear.

Then, a crash shattered the silence.

Stone crumbled overhead. His eyes shot upward.

Movement. Above.

Silhouettes danced across the rooftops—flickers of shadow that moved like phantoms in the dark, erratic and predatory. Their presence was unnatural, like a ripple in the fabric of the world. He felt it—the same corrupted pulse he had sensed before, like a sickness in the air.

Then, from the abyss of the alley behind him, a low growl rumbled.

His hand dropped instantly to his weapon.

More of them.

Without warning, three monstrous figures dropped from the rooftops. They landed hard, the cobblestone cracking beneath their weight. Sunoo didn't flinch, but his grip on his sword tightened. The creatures snarled, jaws unhinging to reveal rows of jagged fangs, their glowing green eyes piercing through the darkness. Their claws, gnarled and slick with black venom, clicked against the stone as they crouched low, preparing to strike.

They charged.

With a fluid motion, Sunoo unsheathed his blade—the silver edge gleaming with a ghostly light under the moon. The first creature lunged, a shriek bursting from its throat. Sunoo ducked low, pivoted on his heel, and swept his sword in a clean arc. It sliced clean through its legs, bone and flesh turning to ash mid-air. The beast hit the ground with a pitiful screech, dissolving into gray dust.

The second came from the side. He spun, meeting its attack with calculated precision. The blade sank deep into its chest, and with a twist of his wrist, he ripped the sword free. The creature convulsed, black mist hissing from the wound before its body crumbled to nothing.

The third didn’t even land a claw on him. Sunoo surged forward with inhuman speed, his form a blur, and drove the sword through its gut. It wailed—a desperate, gurgling cry—before it too was reduced to a heap of ash.

Silence returned.

The wind was the only sound now, whistling down the blood-stained alley. Sunoo stood among the remnants, chest rising and falling steadily. His eyes scanned the darkness. Nothing moved.

But his mind refused to rest.

These monsters... they weren’t attacking at random anymore. They were moving with intent. With direction. A mind, a force, was guiding them—gathering them.

A voice, smooth and smug, cut through the silence like a blade.

“Looks like you missed a spot.”

Sunoo whirled, sword still drawn, eyes narrowed.

Sunghoon stepped out from the shadows with all the arrogance of royalty untouched by war. He dusted off his midnight cloak, casually twirling the dagger Sunoo had thrown at him earlier between elegant fingers.

“You again,” Sunoo muttered, voice icy.

Sunghoon smirked. “You’re good,” he said, half-grudgingly. “But if you think a cute little knife trick is going to scare me off... you’re mistaken.”

Sunoo crossed his arms, his expression a portrait of stone. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was trying to warn you.”

The prince cocked his head, intrigued. “A warning? From a rogue vampire no one’s ever heard of?” His eyebrow rose, gleaming with mockery. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Sunoo’s patience fractured.

“You have no idea what’s coming.” His voice dropped, shadowed and cold. He turned from Sunghoon, the night swallowing him as he stepped away. “Stay out of my way. Or you’ll regret it.”

“C’mon, just tell me who you are and what you’re after,” Sunghoon demanded, his voice low but firm, eyes gleaming with challenge.

“I’m not obliged to tell you anything,” Sunoo scoffed, rolling his silver eyes with a sharp tilt of his head. He turned on his heel, his cloak sweeping behind him like a shadow—but Sunghoon stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Move,” Sunoo said coldly, his tone razor-sharp.

“Make me,” Sunghoon shot back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—cocky, reckless, and utterly unaware of the mistake he had just made.

In one swift, fluid motion, Sunoo lunged.

His hand clamped around Sunghoon’s wrist like iron, twisting it with brutal precision as he used the prince’s own momentum against him. In a blink, the world tilted—Sunghoon’s body was flipped clean over, crashing to the ground with a breathless thud that echoed through the alley.

He lay there, stunned, the wind knocked clean from his lungs. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the night sky, dazed, chest rising and falling as he gasped for the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

When he scrambled upright, pulse pounding in his ears—Sunoo was gone.

Like smoke in the night.

ཐི⋆ཋྀ

The door burst open as Sunoo stormed into their hideout, soaked in shadows and fury. His expression was thunderous, his pale features set in a deep scowl.

“Oh, why the long face, Nunu?” Jay grinned from the couch, not missing a beat at the sight of Sunoo’s pout. “Did you find what you were looking for already?”

Sunoo groaned and flopped dramatically onto the couch, face buried in his arm. “No! That royal idiot just had to be in the way.”

Jay chuckled. “Ah-ah-ah! Treason, Sunoo. Be careful. The royal court has long ears.”

Sunoo shot him a lethal glare. Jay didn’t flinch—he was immune to Sunoo’s theatrics. He strolled over, ruffled his hair with infuriating affection, and earned a muffled snarl in return.

“I can see the wrinkles from here,” Jay teased, his voice softening. “Relax, Sunoo. We’ve only just arrived. The answers will come.”

Jongseong—known now as Jay, the Elven prince—was more than just an old friend. He was Sunoo’s shadow, his sword, his anchor in the darkest storms. Their bond had been forged decades ago, in the cruellest of fires. Jay had been just a boy then—an Elven child torn from his home, shackled and passed between human masters like property, his spirit slowly crushed beneath chains of cruelty. Until Sunoo appeared. That night, cloaked in fury and moonlight, Sunoo had torn through Jay’s captors without mercy, his eyes burning with righteous wrath. He hadn’t just saved Jay’s life—he had given him a reason to live.

Since that moment, Jay had never left his side. Fiercely loyal and fiercely loving, he would scorch the earth to protect the one who had freed him. With the flames of his power and the radiance of light coursing through his veins, Jay was a walking inferno when it came to Sunoo’s safety. One wrong move toward the vampire, and Jay would burn the world down without hesitation. His devotion ran deeper than blood—Sunoo wasn’t just a friend. He was his reason, his purpose, the only one who had ever looked at him and seen him, not just a prince or a pawn.

And so, Jay remained close. Always. Because to hurt Sunoo would be to summon the wrath of a heart that had once been broken—and was now aflame with undying loyalty.

Before Sunoo could retort, the door slammed open again.

A soaked figure stepped in, tracking water across the wooden floor.

“Oh, it’s Jake!” Jay called from the kitchen.

Jake snapped his fingers, instantly drying himself with a shimmer of magic. He strolled over to Sunoo and mussed his hair like a smug older brother.

“Aww, is the princess mad?” he teased, fangs gleaming in a grin. “Is that why the sky had a tantrum and it started pouring?”

Sunoo bared his fangs in warning, but Jake just laughed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Jay called out while stirring something on the stove, “He ran into those monsters. Then a royal vampire decided to make it a party.”

Jake’s amusement faded. His golden eyes sharpened. “A royal, huh?” He whistled low. “Well, that’s not good.”

Jaeyun—better known as Jake to Jay and Sunoo—had crossed paths with Sunoo not long after Jay’s own rescue. They had stumbled upon Jake entangled in a human fishing net, his body coiled with rage, his haunting siren voice vibrating the air with lethal fury. He had been moments away from unleashing devastation, his song ready to shatter minds and drag the fishermen to a watery grave. But then came Sunoo—silent, commanding—his silver gaze piercing through the storm of vengeance. With nothing but his own hypnotic power and a few deliberate words, he drove the humans away and quieted the tempest in Jake’s heart.

Their first days together had been anything but harmonious. Jake’s unyielding pride as a merprince—a creature born of the sea and forged in suffering—clashed violently with Sunoo’s icy solitude. Tension crackled like static between them, each refusing to bend.

But time, as always, revealed the truth beneath the bravado.

Jake saw it—the pain Sunoo carried behind his calm façade, the weight of endless battles fought alone. And somewhere between the silence and the storm, Jake's respect grew into something deeper. Fierce. Unshakable.

Now, he would burn the oceans and silence the stars if it meant keeping Sunoo safe.

He wasn’t just protective of the vampire—he was loyal in the way only a siren could be: with soul-deep devotion and a love so loud it didn’t need to be spoken.

“Tell us more,” he said, serious now.

“It was the prince. Prince Sunghoon.” Sunoo’s tone was clipped. “He got in my way. And now he knows I exist.”

Jake cursed under his breath. “Sunghoon, huh? That really complicates things. Royals don’t like outsiders sniffing around their territory.”

Sunoo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “He doesn’t know who I am. Not yet.”

Jay turned, fire dancing on his fingertips. “So what’s the plan?”

Silence. Sunoo didn’t answer right away.

Then: “I need to stop whatever’s summoning these creatures. Sunghoon is a distraction I can’t afford.”

Jake cracked his knuckles. “Well, good thing you’ve got us. Prince or not, no one’s gonna mess with our team.”

Jay smiled. “Especially not when it comes to you.”

Sunoo looked at them both—and for a moment, the storm in him stilled.

They were his shield. His anchor. His light.

They were the ones who cracked through the ice around his soul.

He would never tell them, but sometimes… he thought of them as the brothers he never had. And in turn, Jay and Jake saw him not as a superior, but as a younger brother they would guard with their lives.

But even their warmth couldn’t burn away the dread now tightening in his chest.

Because Sunghoon’s arrival wasn’t chance. It was the beginning of something far worse.

Outside, the wind howled again, fierce and sharp—like the first warning cry before a war.

Sunoo’s silver eyes glinted in the dark.

This was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, as Sunghoon returned to the looming silhouette of the castle, the world around him seemed to shift. The massive iron-wrought gates, embedded with ancient glyphs and symbols that pulsed faintly in the moonlight, groaned and creaked as they slowly parted, the sound dragging like a beast’s growl through the dead of night. A gust of chilled wind swept through the courtyard, stirring the brittle leaves across the cobblestones and whispering through the high towers like a forgotten warning. The weathered stone walls, soaked with the weight of centuries and old magic, seemed to breathe—a slow exhale of something watchful, something otherworldly.

As he stepped through the archway, torchlight flickered against the cold stone, casting restless shadows across the castle's entrance. He was immediately met by a familiar sight—the stewards, knights, and attendants who had served the royal bloodline for generations. Their faces lit with recognition, reverence filling their expressions as if the prodigal heir had returned from war.

"Welcome back, Prince Sunghoon!" they chorused, voices harmonizing like a sacred chant, dipping into respectful bows that stirred their cloaks in a practiced, unified sweep.

Sunghoon’s lips curled into a tight, restrained smile, more out of habit than warmth. He gave a quick nod, not breaking stride. The air around him still clung with remnants of the earlier battle—the scent of ash, the metallic sting of blood, the weight of adrenaline that hadn’t yet ebbed. He wanted to vanish into his chambers, to disappear before anyone asked—

“Where have you been?”

The words rang out like a cannon blast in the corridor, sudden and laced with icy authority.

Sunghoon halted mid-step, every muscle in his body tensing as if strung tight by invisible wire. His heart plummeted into his stomach. Slowly, with practiced calm, he turned his head.

Emerging from the dim corridor, half-shrouded in torchlight, was his father—King Vernon, tall and broad-shouldered, his every movement exuding a regal intensity. The flicker of flames danced across his sharp features, his expression unreadable but his gaze piercing with the precision of a hawk mid-dive.

“Father!” Sunghoon said quickly, forcing a grin that felt more like a grimace. “I was just—"

“You disappeared without a word,” Vernon interrupted, his tone cool and grave, the kind that didn’t need to rise to command attention. “Where were you?”

Before Sunghoon could stammer an excuse, a second presence emerged beside the king—King Wonwoo, his other father, the quieter of the two but equally terrifying when his icy calm settled over a room. His eyes glinted with scrutiny, studying his son as though scanning for wounds, flaws, lies. He moved in a slow, deliberate circle around Sunghoon, like a predator reading the tension in its prey.

“Are you hurt?” Wonwoo asked, voice soft but edged in concern that came with layered history—loss, war, fear.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Sunghoon sighed, shifting uneasily, wishing he could shed the spotlight of their attention like a second skin.

But Wonwoo’s perceptive gaze fell on the ragged tear in the prince’s cloak, the charred edges curling like burned parchment. He stepped forward, lifting the fabric with two fingers as if it might speak its secrets aloud.

“What’s this?” he asked sharply, his voice turning into a blade.

Sunghoon’s hand shot up, covering the tear almost instinctively. “Oh, that? It... got stuck. On something.”

Wonwoo’s gaze didn’t waver. His silence was damning.

“Sunghoon,” he said, the name heavy with authority and disappointment. “We’ve had this conversation too many times to count. You need to be more cautious. The world outside these walls isn’t what it used to be. Vampires and other creatures are disappearing. Whole lineages—gone without a trace. There’s something stirring in the dark, and it’s not a tale meant to frighten fledglings.”

Vernon took a step closer, his figure towering in the torchlight. “We cannot—will not—let you be next.”

A heaviness pressed into Sunghoon’s chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but his father’s presence was like a storm: inescapable and overwhelming.

“I know, Father. It’s just that—”

“Your father’s words are absolute,” Wonwoo cut in smoothly, not raising his voice but commanding every inch of air between them. “This is not about curbing your freedom. It’s about preserving your life—and the future of the coven.”

Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek, the frustration roiling beneath his skin like magma waiting to erupt. “Yes, my kings,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his bow deep and tight with resentment.

They turned without another word, their cloaks trailing behind them like royal shadows, and disappeared down the corridor. The moment they were gone, the pressure lifted—and with it, Sunghoon’s restraint snapped like a bowstring.

He clenched his fists, jaw locking as his breath came out ragged.

“Argh!” he growled, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair. His pulse thrummed in his ears. It was too much—always too much. Their eyes were always on him. Their expectations were bricks laid atop his back. His freedom was a myth dressed in royal silk.

The quiet was broken by a mocking snicker.

“Is Princey mad?” a voice teased from the shadows, sing-song and wicked.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look up. “Come out, you two,” he sighed.

Two figures melted from the darkness like playful phantoms—Riki and Won, the youngest vampire generals, wearing identical grins that could only mean trouble.

“Riki, Won. What now?” Sunghoon asked, but the edge in his voice softened. Their presence was a balm. Chaotic, but comforting.

“We missed you, Hoon!” Won said, slapping him on the back. “Welcome back to Virmarion!”

They were Sunghoon’s childhood companions—if such a word could even capture the depth of their bond, forged not by innocence but by fire, blood, and the relentless weight of expectations. Riki and Won weren’t just loyal friends; they were legends in the making, vampires whose names echoed across battlefields like whispered omens.

Riki, ever the tempest in human form, wielded dominion over the earth itself. With a mere flick of his wrist, the ground would tremble in obedience—jagged stone would erupt like fangs from beneath the soil, and the very land would twist to his will, crushing enemies beneath the weight of mountains. His presence was a force of nature, steady yet volatile, the embodiment of unshakable power.

Won, in contrast, was a ghost on the battlefield—swift, silent, and merciless. The wind was his weapon and his armor, coiling around him like an unseen serpent. With a single breath, he could summon tornadoes that ripped trees from their roots and whirlwinds so precise they could flay flesh from bone. His power was poetry in motion—elegant, destructive, and terrifyingly beautiful.

Together, they were the youngest and most formidable generals the royal army had ever known—unstoppable, untouchable, and fiercely loyal to their prince.

Riki threw him a high-five that cracked the air. “About time you showed up. You look like death. What happened out there?”

“They were everywhere,” Sunghoon said, his voice dropping. “The creatures. I fought a whole pack of them.”

“Did you trace their source?” Won asked, suddenly serious, as the three began walking down the hall toward Sunghoon’s chambers.

“No,” Sunghoon replied, his brow furrowing. “But when I reached the center of the miasma, someone else was already there.”

Riki raised an eyebrow. “Someone? Another vampire?”

Sunghoon gave a slow nod. “Yeah. At first, I thought he was one of them. An enemy. But now... I’m not sure.”

“Describe him,” Won said, his voice low, eyes narrowing with sharp intent.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, the memory rising like a stormcloud. “He had long, white hair. Eyes like liquid silver. He was fast—unbelievably fast. And strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever come up against.”

Riki’s playful demeanor cracked. Won stiffened.

“White hair and silver eyes?” Won echoed. “Those aren’t just rare. That’s... ancient.”

Riki’s grin turned half-wild. “That’s straight out of old vampire myths. The kind we used to joke about when we were kids.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Joke or not, he was real. And powerful. He wasn’t using elemental gifts like us. His power was... different. Pure energy. Lightning. He struck down the creatures like they were nothing—and then he pinned me to a wall with a dagger before I could even blink, and he even had the nerve to flip me.”

Riki and Won burst into laughter, howling, clutching their sides.

“He flipped you?!” Riki wheezed. “This is historic!”

But Won’s laughter died quickly, replaced by a haunted curiosity.

“This vampire—he shows up at the same time the disappearances escalate?” he murmured. “That’s not chance.”

“Enemy or ally?” Riki asked, his tone unusually grim.

Sunghoon paced his room now, cloak tossed aside, eyes burning with unspent rage. The memory clung to him like bloodstains. The phantom’s speed. The raw power. The shame of being overpowered.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He seemed as interested in the monsters as I was. Maybe he’s hunting them. Or maybe he’s the one who made them.”

Won leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed. “If he’s as strong as you say, Sunghoon... he could be anything. A myth reborn. A harbinger of something far worse. His appearance can’t be coincidence. Either he’s the salvation we didn’t know we needed—or the end of all of us.”

The room fell silent. Even the fire in the hearth seemed to quiet.

Sunghoon looked up, gaze hard, jaw set.

“Whoever he is,” he said, voice low with determination, “next time—I won’t let him vanish. Next time, I’ll get the truth.”

Suddenly, Riki perked up, his eyes gleaming with excitement, the ever-present mischievous grin curling at the corner of his lips. “So, what’s the plan, Princey?” he asked, his voice laced with electric anticipation. “Do we hunt this silver-eyed mystery down? Or are we just going to sit here and twiddle our royal thumbs until he decides to show up again?”

A slow, knowing grin tugged at Sunghoon’s lips, and in that moment, the fire of determination reignited in his eyes—an unmistakable blaze of resolve and pride. “We hunt.”

Riki and Won exchanged a glance, a silent agreement flashing between them like lightning splitting the sky. The decision had been made—and it thrilled them.

“Good,” Riki growled with satisfaction, cracking his knuckles with a sound like stones grinding together, a dangerous glint lighting up his expression. “Let’s see who the real predator is.”

But the moment shattered like glass.

The heavy oak doors of Sunghoon’s chamber burst open with a violent bang, the echo crashing through the room like a thunderclap. A tall, imposing figure filled the doorway—King Vernon, cloaked in dark authority, his presence a storm barely held in check.

"Going somewhere?" Vernon’s voice rang out, cold and clipped, slicing through the tension like a blade honed for war.

Riki and Won snapped to attention, their backs straightening instinctively, heads bowed in instant respect. But Sunghoon didn’t flinch. He didn’t waver. He met his father’s eyes head-on, the weight of his defiance clashing with the steel in Vernon’s stare.

"I was just going to—" he began, voice tight.

But Vernon’s eyes had already flicked toward the torn cloak draped carelessly over the chair—silent proof of Sunghoon’s defiance. "You went out tonight despite our warnings. And now you’re trying to sneak out again?"

Sunghoon’s jaw tensed, and though his pride screamed for defense, he didn’t deny it. “Yes,” he admitted, shoulders square. “And I found something. Something important.”

Vernon stepped further into the room, arms crossing over his chest like iron gates shutting tight. His presence loomed, not just as a father but as a king. “Important enough to risk your life?” he demanded. “What have I told you about acting recklessly, Sunghoon?”

“I’m not a child anymore, Father,” Sunghoon shot back, his voice edged with fire, frustration simmering beneath his words. “I can handle myself. And I found a lead—something more than the elders have managed to uncover in weeks.”

Vernon’s gaze sharpened, the steel in his eyes momentarily shadowed by something else—curiosity. “A lead?”

Sunghoon took a breath, grounding himself, forcing calm into the storm of his mind. “I encountered another vampire tonight. One I’ve never seen before. He wasn’t like us. He was hunting the same creatures, but I couldn’t tell if he was ally or enemy.”

A flicker of unease passed through Vernon’s expression. “Describe him.”

“White hair,” Sunghoon said slowly, the image still etched into his memory like a brand. “Silver eyes. Faster than anything I’ve ever seen. And his power... it wasn’t elemental. It was pure energy. Lightning. Raw and controlled. He overpowered me without effort.”

A heavy silence fell.

Vernon’s expression turned to stone, a dark storm gathering in his eyes. “White hair and silver eyes…”

From beyond the threshold, another voice emerged—quiet, yet laced with grim recognition. Wonwoo stepped into the chamber, the shadows clinging to his form like a second skin, his expression heavy with unease. “My king,” he said slowly, eyes never leaving Vernon’s, “that description… could it really be?”

Vernon didn’t respond at first. His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched as if grappling with a memory he had buried long ago. Finally, he spoke, voice low and grim. “A ghost from our past. Someone who shouldn’t exist anymore.”

Riki, who had watched the exchange with growing tension, furrowed his brow, unease creeping into his usual playfulness. “What do you mean, 'shouldn’t exist,’ sires?”

Vernon’s gaze remained locked on Sunghoon, but his words were for all of them. “There’s a legend. Whispers passed down through the oldest bloodlines. Of a royal family that came before us. The progenitors—the very first vampires. They were the origin of our kind, creators of the purebloods. Crafted and brought to life by the very breath of the gods themselves. Their features were unmistakable: hair as white as moonlight, skin pale as untouched snow, and eyes like polished silver.”

He paused, letting the gravity settle like ash.

“If what you say is true, Sunghoon, then you’ve come face-to-face with one of them. The most powerful vampire in existence.”

Sunghoon’s pulse pounded in his ears, the weight of his father’s words crashing over him like a wave. “The progenitors?” he echoed, disbelief and awe battling in his voice. “I thought they were just myths. Stories to scare fledglings into obedience.”

Vernon shook his head once, slowly. “No myth. They were real. And their power was incomprehensible—beyond anything we possess. Faster. Stronger. More ancient than any of us can imagine. They vanished centuries ago. Some say they were hunted. Others say they disappeared by choice. But if one remains…” His voice trailed into silence.

Then, quieter, heavier: “We may be standing on the edge of a war we’re not ready for.”

Sunghoon’s mind reeled, thoughts swirling in a torrent of realization, fear, and the sting of inadequacy. That vampire wasn’t just an opponent. He was a piece of something ancient. A remnant of power lost to time—and possibly the harbinger of what was to come.

“Then we have to find him,” Sunghoon said, voice low but unwavering, tempered now with urgency that burned through his veins. “Before it’s too late.”

Wonwoo nodded slowly, the weight of centuries pressing into his expression. “Yes. But caution, Sunghoon. If this vampire truly is one of the progenitors, your strength won’t be enough. Not alone. He’s not just dangerous—he’s something else entirely. And I fear… he may be tied to the deaths. To the disappearances. He may be the key, or the cause.”

Riki and Won exchanged a glance—no jokes, no grins. Only the solemn fire of warriors stepping into something far darker than they had ever faced.

“Looks like this hunt just got a hell of a lot more interesting,” Won muttered, his voice low, yet charged with intensity.

Riki’s grin returned, but it was no longer playful—it was the grin of a soldier staring into battle. “Let’s go catch ourselves a legend.”

Sunghoon felt the storm inside him finally calm—not with peace, but with clarity. They weren’t just hunting anymore. They were unraveling a legacy steeped in ancient blood, chasing a phantom who might decide the fate of their entire world.

And the hunt had only just begun.

Chapter Text

The following night, Sunghoon was ready.

Or at least, his body was. His soul? That was another story entirely.

Peace had eluded him. Not because he wasn’t tired—he was exhausted, bone-deep and frayed at the edges—but because every time he closed his eyes, he saw him.

The silver-eyed vampire.

The memory was too vivid, too sharp. It hadn’t faded like dreams usually did. It lingered, coiling through his thoughts like smoke—hot, elusive, and impossible to grasp. He could still feel the raw hum of energy in the air, the crack of thunder above them. The silver-eyed stranger had pinned him with a dagger and how he flipped him like he weighed nothing, like Sunghoon’s entire existence could be crushed between two fingers if he so wished.

And the worst part?

It hadn’t felt like defeat.

It had felt like a spark.

A terrifying, electric spark of something ancient and unknown and utterly magnetic.

Sunghoon had faced monsters before. Beasts of nightmare and blood. Creatures that devoured cities and turned skies black. But that vampire—he—was different. His presence didn’t just shake Sunghoon’s body. It disturbed something buried deeper. Something Sunghoon hadn’t even known was there.

And now, it wouldn’t leave him alone.

His pride still stung, yes. He’d been outmatched, disarmed in more ways than one. But the wound wasn’t just to his ego—it was to his certainty. Certainty that he understood this war. These enemies. The battlefield.

But now, nothing felt certain anymore.

He needed to know who that vampire was.

And what he was doing in the heart of a miasma outbreak.

Why had he been surrounded by those creatures—and yet remained untouched?

And perhaps more dangerously...

Why couldn’t Sunghoon stop thinking about him?

The castle’s training yard, usually a place of noise and sweat and steel, stood colder under the blanket of night. Shadows stretched long across the stone floor, distorted by the flickering torches mounted on high walls. The air was sharp with the scent of oiled weapons and the faint metallic tang of magic waiting to be unleashed.

Riki and Won were already there.

Riki, all restless energy, was casually tossing a dagger between his hands, his back leaned against a stone pillar. His dark cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, and the gleam in his eyes said he was more than ready to fight something.

Or someone.

Won stood near him, posture straight, arms crossed, but eyes calm—watchful. His armor caught the torchlight in muted golds and bronzes, a silent contrast to Riki’s chaos.

As Sunghoon approached, Riki’s grin widened with that familiar, infuriating charm.

“Well, well. Princey’s graced us with his royal presence. Ready for a little hunt?”

Sunghoon didn’t break stride. “You never stop, do you?”

“Not when I know it gets under your skin.”

Won exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he stepped forward. “Enough bickering, you two. We’ve got bigger problems.”

That pulled Sunghoon’s focus back. His expression hardened, his steps slowing as he neared them.

“The soldiers tracked a new trail of miasma,” he said, his voice low, controlled. “Thicker than anything we’ve seen so far. It’s coiling through the outskirts and stretching past the southern ward.”

Riki’s playful smirk dimmed slightly. “That close to the city?”

Sunghoon nodded grimly. “And the concentration spikes at the forest’s edge.”

Won’s gaze sharpened. “The Dark Forest.”

Even speaking the name seemed to sap the warmth from the air. It was a cursed place—older than the kingdom itself. A forest that didn’t just hold danger; it welcomed it. Trees that whispered secrets in forgotten tongues. Roots that pulsed like veins. A place where even light bent wrong.

“It makes sense,” Sunghoon continued. “If something powerful is spawning these creatures, it would need a place shrouded, veiled—untouchable. The forest provides that.”

Riki cracked his knuckles, stretching his arms overhead with a loose, confident swagger. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go find some monsters to slay.”

But despite his bravado, even he cast a lingering glance at the horizon—where the forest loomed like a sleeping god with teeth.

ཐི⋆ཋྀ

They moved fast—too fast to think, just fast enough to feel. The wind bit at their cheeks, laced with the cold breath of something ancient and wrong. Leaves tore past them in jagged spirals as they weaved through gnarled trees that grew closer together the deeper they pressed on. The Dark Forest loomed ahead like the edge of the world.

It was a place swallowed by myth and fear.

Its trees were not just trees—they were witnesses. Towering, twisted things with bark like burned flesh, their branches tangled and clawed at the sky as if trying to drag heaven down with them. The canopy above was a heavy shroud, strangling the light until even the brightest stars were no more than dying embers behind it.

And then...

Darkness.

True, choking, visceral darkness.

Not the absence of light—but the presence of something else. Something sentient. As if the forest itself had a pulse, and it now beat in time with the dread crawling up their spines.

Every step they took was met with silence so thick it pressed against their eardrums. No birdsong. No rustle of distant animals. Just the sound of their own breath and the occasional creak of the earth beneath their boots. It was like walking through the lungs of a slumbering beast, each footfall risking the stir of something far worse.

Then it came—that feeling.

A cold, suffocating weight that clung to their skin and slipped beneath their armor. The air turned heavy, saturated with a dark fog that slithered between trees like a living thing.

The miasma.

It was thicker than before—denser, hungrier. It pulsed with energy, as though the forest itself was exhaling pure corruption. A grotesque chill soaked into their bones, not from temperature, but from the presence of something malevolent.

Sunghoon stopped short, eyes narrowing. “Stay sharp,” he murmured, his voice nearly drowned by the thickness in the air. The edge of his sword shimmered faintly in the dim, trembling light as he scanned the shadows between trees.

Then—rustling.

A whisper at first. Then more. Cracks. Growls. Leaves snapping under unnatural weight.

From the black tangle of underbrush emerged a creature—no, a perversion of one. Misshapen. Crawling. Its limbs bent at grotesque angles, muscles bulging unnaturally under torn, leathery skin. Its eyes blazed a sickly yellow, glowing like cursed lanterns in the gloom. Its mouth gaped too wide, brimming with rows of uneven, jagged teeth that clicked hungrily.

And then another. And another.

Dozens. Swarming like ants from every direction.

Their growls came in a chilling chorus—discordant and high-pitched, as if mocking the idea of life itself. They didn’t run. They skittered. Twitched. Crawled like they had once been human but had long forgotten how.

Riki’s eyes gleamed, a dark fire flickering within them. With a roar, he slammed his boot into the earth. The ground quaked beneath them, deep fissures tearing through soil and rock. With a crackling, thunderous groan, the earth split—and several of the creatures shrieked as they plummeted into the chasm, swallowed by darkness.

Won’s arms blurred into a vortex of motion. With a sharp breath, he summoned spiraling gusts of wind that whipped through the trees like a divine storm. The air howled as his magic took shape, lifting creatures off their feet and hurling them into trunks with explosive force. Bones snapped. Bark splintered. Still, the monsters surged forward.

Sunghoon was already moving, his body a blur, his sword a glinting line of frost. Each swing was deliberate, clean, merciless. The icy aura around his blade shimmered like breath on glass. Every creature that met his steel froze solid on contact—turned into brittle statues of frozen flesh before shattering into glittering dust.

But it wasn’t enough.

For every monster they destroyed, more surged from the shadows—crawling, slinking, pouring like a tide of nightmares from the black maw of the forest.

“There’s too many of them!” Won shouted, sweat glistening on his brow, his voice nearly lost in the chaos. His wind faltered under the sheer number swarming them.

“We need to cut them off at the source!” Sunghoon yelled back, twisting around, his blade slicing through another creature’s throat in a spray of icy blood.

And then—everything stopped.

The miasma trembled.

From deeper within the forest, something moved.

Something different.

Sunghoon's breath caught in his throat.

Through the shifting fog, he saw it—a blur of silver and black. Moving with impossible speed and elegance, so fluid it seemed to defy gravity. Bodies of the creatures were flying—shredded by bursts of energy, disintegrated before they hit the ground.

And then he saw him.

The vampire from last night.

Silver eyes gleaming like moonlight on a blade.

He moved like a phantom. Each motion was precise, terrifying, beautiful. Lightning crackled at his fingertips, coiling around his arms like serpents. Every time he struck, the forest lit up in pulses of white-blue brilliance. The monsters didn’t even scream—they simply ceased, turned to ash mid-snarling breath.

The energy rolling off him was suffocating. Raw. Divine. Deadly.

Sunghoon’s heart pounded like war drums in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

He gripped his sword tighter, his knuckles white.

“There he is,” he whispered.

The storm had returned.

And it wore silver eyes.

Their eyes met for a heartbeat—a flicker of tension carved into the dark like lightning etched across storm clouds.

The vampire’s silver gaze locked with Sunghoon’s from across the clearing, and in that split second, the world seemed to fall away. There was something ancient in those eyes. Not just cold… but hollow, as if they’d stared into the abyss for centuries and learned to enjoy the view. A thousand unspoken truths shimmered behind them—yet not a single one was given away.

Then he was gone.

Swallowed by the shadows like a ripple sinking into still water.

Riki noticed the change in Sunghoon’s stance immediately. “Found your mystery man?” he called out with a lopsided grin, his voice almost drowned by the chaos of battle.

Sunghoon’s eyes remained fixed on the place where the vampire had vanished. “Yes,” he muttered, his voice low, tight with resolve. “And I’m not letting him slip away this time.”

Before either of his companions could reply, Sunghoon launched forward like a spear loosed from a bowstring—silent, swift, and absolute.

He tore through the underbrush, his cloak snapping in the air behind him, branches lashing at his arms and face. Every step was driven by instinct, by that unrelenting pull deep in his chest. His heart thundered like war drums, breath burning in his lungs as the trees blurred past.

The miasma thickened around him like ink spilled through the forest—cloying, fetid, alive. It clung to his skin, slick and suffocating, and tried to slow his pace with every step. It was like wading through a nightmare, but he pushed on. He had to.

The distant clash of battle faded into nothingness, until all that remained was the haunting whisper of wind through the trees and the soft crackle of residual static in the air.

And then—the forest opened.

He stumbled into a clearing so suddenly it stole the breath from his lungs.

Everything was still.

Dead leaves carpeted the ground in a brittle mosaic, and the trees circled the space like silent sentinels. A pale shaft of light bled through a crack in the canopy above, casting an eerie glow over the figure who stood motionless at the center.

The vampire.

White hair cascading like snow down his back, catching the meager light with an ethereal sheen.

Sparks of lightning danced lazily around his gloved fingers, crackling softly like distant thunder.

His silver eyes, faintly glowing, bore into Sunghoon as though he had been waiting for him.

“What do you want now?” the vampire asked, voice smooth as velvet, with just a razor’s edge of condescension. It carried the weight of someone who had nothing to fear—and knew it.

Sunghoon didn’t flinch. His blade pulsed with frost at his side, his stance steady despite the tremble in his ribs. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The vampire tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips like a secret he wouldn’t share. “You’re asking the wrong questions, little prince.”

Before the words fully registered, the vampire vanished—a blink, a blur—and suddenly he was behind Sunghoon.

Instinct roared to life.

Sunghoon spun, barely managing to block the incoming strike. The vampire’s blow landed with a force that reverberated through his bones, sending him skidding backward across the clearing.

Dirt tore up beneath his boots as he dug in, eyes blazing with shock and determination.

“You’re fast,” he panted, pulse roaring in his ears.

“But not fast enough,” the vampire replied, his smirk deepening.

Without warning, the lightning flared. Raw energy crackled through the air as he lifted his hand—and then unleashed it.

The bolt tore through the clearing with a scream of thunder.

Sunghoon dove to the side, the blast slicing inches from his body and scorching the edge of his cloak. He landed in a crouch, eyes sharp, hand already raised—firing a flurry of jagged ice shards toward his opponent.

But the vampire moved like smoke.

Effortless.

Each shard missed by a breath. He glided between them with terrifying grace, his coat fluttering like wings, his hair trailing like light across water. He wasn’t just dodging—he was dancing, every movement deliberate and precise, as if this were all some elegantly choreographed performance meant for him alone.

Sunghoon’s frustration mounted.

He attacked again—faster, harder. Strike after strike, the air ringing with the clash of magic and metal. His frost-charged blade carved brilliant arcs of cold light through the gloom, but the vampire always remained a step ahead. Dodging. Deflecting. Testing.

“You won’t beat me!” Sunghoon shouted, voice ragged with exertion and pride. Ice gathered beneath his feet, spiraling upward in a tidal wave of frozen fury. With a fierce cry, he sent it surging forward like a glacier come alive.

The clearing turned white, wind howling, shards of frost sparkling like stars.

But the vampire raised a single hand.

A pulse of lightning burst outward from his palm—deep, booming, pure.

The wave shattered.

Exploded into a thousand icy fragments that rained down like shattered dreams.

As the frost dissipated into mist, the vampire stepped forward, silver eyes alight with quiet, controlled power. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured, his voice low, electric with promise.

And in that moment, Sunghoon felt it—

He was being measured.

And the storm had only just begun.

The air between them pulsed with static, thick with tension as ice clashed against lightning in an electrified storm of violence. Blades rang like distant thunder, each impact sparking blinding light in the miasma-drenched gloom. Sunghoon’s chest heaved, his body battered but unyielding, adrenaline crashing through his veins like tidal waves.

And still, the vampire danced.

He moved with an otherworldly elegance, his pale form a phantom flickering through the shadows, eyes gleaming like cold silver fire. Every slash Sunghoon launched was countered or evaded with an ease that bordered on arrogance—as if the vampire had memorized the tempo of Sunghoon’s soul and now played him like an instrument.

It wasn’t just power.

It was mastery.

And he was toying with him.

Sunghoon growled, his fury manifesting in another jagged wave of frozen spikes erupting from the ground, sharp as spears. They shot forward with lethal precision—only to be sidestepped effortlessly, shattering against the trees in a spray of crystalline shards.

“Why are you here?!” Sunghoon shouted, his voice raw with frustration and the sting of humiliation.

The vampire’s lips curled into a faint smile, as though the question itself amused him. “You’re not the only one curious about the creatures,” he said, voice a silken thread in the thickening fog. “They’re not just monsters. They’re part of something much… larger.”

His tone—calm, detached—only infuriated Sunghoon more. “What do you mean?” he snapped, grounding his blade, frost spiraling outward from his feet.

With an almost lazy flick of his wrist, the vampire summoned a crackling arc of lightning. It surged through the air like a living serpent, crashing against Sunghoon’s hastily raised barrier. Ice hissed and steamed under the assault, the stench of ozone and scorched earth curling into the clearing.

“They’re being summoned,” the vampire said, stepping closer through the dissipating static, his coat swaying like midnight smoke. “Something ancient stirs. Something bound to this forest’s rotting heart.”

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed, his voice steadier now despite the storm raging around him. “Then we stop it. Together. Before it spreads beyond these woods.”

For the first time, the vampire paused. His eyes, unreadable and ageless, studied Sunghoon in silence—measuring him.

“It’s not just your kingdom at stake,” he said finally, the glow in his irises intensifying. “You think you can face this alone? You’ll be swallowed whole. You need more than strength and swords. You need allies.”

Sunghoon tightened his grip on his weapons, anger and confusion twisting in his chest. “Then who are you? Are you helping or just playing games with me?”

The vampire tilted his head slightly, his smile edged in shadow. “Help? No. I serve no crown, no cause. But if our goals align... then perhaps—just perhaps—we survive.”

“Survive?” Sunghoon scoffed. “You attacked me the moment I saw you. I’ve bled because of you. And now you want to talk about survival?”

“Trust is a dying star, Prince Sunghoon,” the vampire said, voice lowering to a near whisper. “Rare. Fading. Beautiful, but doomed. I act for my own reasons. You’d be wise to do the same... unless you’re prepared to watch your people burn.”

The words struck like a blade through the ribs—sharp, unwelcome, but not without truth. Sunghoon thought of his fathers, their voices strained with worry. He remembered the tear-streaked faces of villagers. The whispers of fear growing louder by the day.

His arms lowered, just slightly. “Fine. What do you want?”

The vampire stepped forward, the tension between them thrumming like a wire pulled taut. The air itself seemed to thicken, humming with unseen energy.

“They’re bait,” he said. “These creatures, this chaos—it’s a diversion. Something is moving in the dark while we waste our strength here. If we uncover who, we can cut out the rot at the root.”

Sunghoon straightened, fire flickering in his eyes. “Then let’s do it. But if we’re going to work together, I need to know everything. No riddles. No shadows.”

The vampire’s smile faded into something darker, more serious. “Very well. But when the time comes, you follow my lead. This isn’t a battle, prince—it’s a war. And wars devour the unprepared.”

“Agreed,” Sunghoon said, lifting his chin. “But betray me... and I’ll carve your name into the ice for eternity.”

A low, sinister laugh rumbled from the vampire’s chest. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. Dangerous, reckless... perhaps even useful.”

And then—

A sound, low and rumbling, like the grinding of bone beneath earth. A growl that seemed to crawl through the soil and into their spines.

Sunghoon turned sharply.

Shapes emerged from the treeline—shadows within shadows—creatures hunched and malformed, their yellow eyes like burning coals in the haze. The miasma thickened instantly, curling around their feet, swallowing light, choking hope.

“They’ve found us,” Sunghoon muttered, blades rising once more. “We’ll have to fight our way out.”

Beside him, the vampire grinned with a spark of anticipation lighting up his face. “Now this is where the fun begins.”

In an instant, lightning screamed from his fingers—wild, merciless, alive. It tore through the creatures, illuminating their twisted forms as they convulsed and disintegrated in bursts of crackling flame.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, ice coating his blades like fangs of winter, slicing through the enemy with unrelenting precision. Creatures fell, frozen mid-lunge, their bodies shattering like glass under his relentless assault.

They moved together.

A force of nature made flesh—ice and storm colliding with monstrous fury. The forest became a battleground of elemental devastation, blue and white and gold lighting the dark with violent beauty. Each motion was a duet of destruction—Sunghoon’s calculated strikes seamlessly echoed by the vampire’s brutal, explosive arcs of lightning.

For a moment... just a moment... Sunghoon felt it.

Hope.

Not because the creatures were dying—but because for the first time, he wasn’t alone.

But then, the earth shook.

A roar thundered through the trees, deep and primal, shaking loose branches and sending birds scattering into the sky. The ground split, and from the darkness emerged something massive—towering and unnatural. Its skin was slick with corruption, its eyes glowing with unholy hunger.

A beast unlike the others.

Something ancient. Commanding.

“This one’s different,” the vampire muttered, and for the first time, his voice held a trace of unease.

Sunghoon stepped forward, his jaw set. “I can handle it. You deal with the rest.”

But the vampire’s smirk returned—slow, dangerous.

“No,” he said, his voice curling like smoke.

“I will fight.”

Chapter Text

As the monstrous creature lunged, a tremor thundered through the forest floor, the very earth groaning beneath its colossal weight. The creature’s roar shattered the silence like a war cry from the abyss, shaking the trees to their roots and scattering flocks of terrified birds into the storm-darkened sky.

Sunghoon and Sunoo surged forward as one, their bodies propelled by sheer instinct and resolve. In that heartbeat of defiance, they were no longer just a prince and a vampire—no longer enemies thrown together by chance. They were twin blades drawn against the darkness, a tempest of fury and light braced to meet the incoming storm. Allies not by choice, but by necessity—and now, by trust forged in the crucible of battle.

The creature towered over them, a leviathan of nightmares. It wasn’t merely a beast—it was the embodiment of dread itself. Veins of molten shadow pulsed across its obsidian flesh, and its many eyes glowed a sickly, infernal yellow, fixed on them with monstrous hunger. Each breath it exhaled came with a guttural, rancid hiss, like steam rising from a poisoned bog. The weight of its presence pressed on Sunghoon’s chest, heavier than armor, thicker than fear. It felt like trying to breathe under deep water.

Sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat.

What is this thing?

He had fought creatures before—abominations, even—but nothing like this. This was wrong. It radiated wrong. Its very existence defied reason, crawling along the edges of his mind like an infection. Shadows bled from its form, curling along the forest floor like living tendrils, devouring the light around them.

“They’re evolving,” Sunoo murmured beside him, low and cold, as if speaking the words aloud might summon something even worse. His voice was like steel wrapped in silk—composed, but tense. Those silver eyes didn’t blink. Didn’t falter. He watched the beast with the sharp stillness of a predator. Sunghoon could sense the flicker of unease beneath Sunoo’s surface, barely masked, and that alone was more alarming than the creature itself.

Sunghoon’s legs refused to move, locked in place as though the shadows themselves had claimed them. His instincts screamed at him to fight, to run, to do something, but he was paralyzed—not by fear, but by sheer disbelief. The creature cast a long, abyssal shadow over them, stretching across the clearing like a premonition of death.

“What the hell…?” Sunghoon rasped, the words escaping in a whisper drowned beneath the beast’s growl.

Then—

“Watch out!” Sunoo’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and commanding. His tone snapped Sunghoon from the brink, but he was too slow. Far too slow.

In the blink of an eye, Sunoo was already moving—a blur of black and silver slicing through the gloom. He thrust himself between Sunghoon and the monster, intercepting the descending blow of its monstrous arm. The air trembled with kinetic force as the beast struck.

BOOM.

The impact landed with a deafening explosion of power, and the ground split beneath their feet. A violent shockwave rippled through the clearing, sending birds screeching into the skies and toppling ancient trees in the distance. Chunks of earth erupted like geysers. The creature staggered, unbalanced, crashing back through the underbrush with a sound like shattering mountains.

Sunoo stood still, his outstretched hand smoldering with residual energy, his body tensed from the effort. Power sizzled around his fingers like blue fire. His coat whipped violently in the swirling wind, torn leaves and cinders spiraling around him like a tempest halo.

Sunghoon was frozen again—but this time, from shock.

His thoughts were a whirlwind, trying to piece together what just happened—what could’ve happened. The sheer force of that strike would’ve ended him. Left nothing behind but a broken, crimson smear across the trees. He felt the phantom weight of death, inches from claiming him.

Then—SLAP.

A sting bloomed across his cheek, sharp and sudden.

“What the—!” Sunghoon snarled, eyes wide as his head whipped to the side, more startled than hurt.

Sunoo stood inches from him, hand still raised, expression unreadable beneath the gleam of battle. His silver eyes burned with something cold, yet undeniably alive.

“Yes, you’re welcome,” Sunoo snapped, his voice low, razor-edged with irritation. “You still have your head attached to your body, don’t you?”

Sunghoon's jaw clenched, fists curling tight at his sides. Rage flared up in his chest—embarrassment, too—but before he could spit out a retort, Sunoo was already gone, vanishing into a streak of motion, all speed and shadows.

Up he soared.

Sunghoon’s breath caught again—not from fear this time, but awe.

Like a vengeful spirit, Sunoo rose into the storm-drenched sky, his body silhouetted against the roiling clouds. Rain had begun to fall in scattered sheets, and lightning split the heavens in jagged streaks of silver, mirroring the storm brewing in Sunoo’s hands.

Power gathered around him—crackling, wild, and barely contained. The very air hummed with the force of it. Each bolt of electricity licked up his arms like divine fire. The sky pulsed, turning the entire battlefield into a flickering theater of war.

With a roar that tore itself from deep within, Sunoo hurled his gathered power downward.

CRASH.

The lightning struck the creature with the wrath of a god, blinding and absolute. The explosion was cataclysmic—light swallowed the forest whole for a heartbeat, then darkness rushed back in like a flood. Thunder boomed, a sound so loud it cracked the air itself. The shockwave flattened the undergrowth, sent debris flying, and made the trees groan in pain.

The beast screamed, a horrible, twisted sound like a thousand tortured voices, before it began to unravel—its form consumed by the purifying storm, shadows peeling off in ribbons of smoke and ash. Its body convulsed, then collapsed in on itself, dissolving into fine dust that the wind scattered into the dark.

Silence returned, sudden and heavy.

The storm above slowly faded.

The clearing stood still.

And where the monster once towered, now there was only ruin—and two figures standing at its heart, bathed in the fading glow of victory.

Sunghoon could only exhale—a trembling, shallow breath barely audible over the crackling remnants of energy in the air. His chest rose and fell in uneven jerks, the adrenaline still surging through his veins, heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum. His legs threatened to give out beneath him, the weight of what he had just witnessed anchoring him in place.

His eyes remained locked on the smoldering ground where the monstrous creature had been reduced to ash. A scorched crater now replaced what moments ago had been a living nightmare. Shards of shattered trees, scorched roots, and dust coated the air in a hazy, metallic fog. The scent of ozone and burnt soil clung to the wind, thick and choking.

And at the center of it all—calm, untouched, unshaken—stood Sunoo.

The vampire’s silhouette was backlit by the flickering embers dancing across the ruined battlefield, his pale hair tousled by the storm’s dying breath. Power still radiated from him in soft pulses, like aftershocks from an earthquake. He looked like something carved from myth—unreal, untouchable. Divine.

Sunghoon couldn’t take his eyes off him.

He’s not just strong…
He’s a force of nature.

No—Sunghoon had never seen anything like it. Not in training. Not in battle. Not in the deepest parts of his nightmares. Sunoo’s raw power wasn’t just overwhelming—it was transcendent. It made the world feel smaller. It made him feel small.

And just then—

The sound of hurried footsteps tore through the thick silence. Twigs snapped, leaves rustled, and two forms burst through the smoke at full speed. Riki and Won stumbled into the clearing, gasping for breath, their faces drawn with panic.

“Are you okay?!” Won’s voice was strained, lungs heaving, his wide eyes immediately locking onto Sunghoon.

Sunghoon gave a nod—numb, dazed, almost mechanical. His voice came out flat. “Yeah… I think so.”

Riki bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, eyes scanning the battlefield with disbelief. “The monsters…” he panted, “they’re… gone.”

His voice cracked mid-sentence, as if even his own words betrayed reality.

There was a silence that followed—not empty, but heavy. Like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Riki slowly straightened, his gaze still combing the devastation. The horror in his expression deepened. “They didn’t run,” he said softly. “They didn’t retreat. They were wiped out.”

Won’s eyes shifted to Sunoo—finally taking in the lone figure amidst the destruction. His jaw slackened. “He did all this?”

Neither of them had to ask. The answer was written in the silence, in the scorched remains, in the hum of power that still clung to the air like smoke after a fire.

And then—without a word—Sunoo turned.

Not dramatically. Not with flair. Just… turned, as if this entire battle had been a minor inconvenience. As if leveling an army of abominations was nothing more than a daily chore. His movements were fluid, casual, indifferent. Detached.

He began to walk away.

Like the war hadn't happened. Like they didn't matter.

“Hey, wait!” Sunghoon’s voice cracked, ragged with urgency and disbelief. His heart seized in his chest. He wasn’t ready to let this vampire vanish into the shadows—not yet. Not without answers.

Sunoo didn’t stop.

“I said wait!” Sunghoon shouted, this time louder, more desperate. It echoed through the trees like a flare cutting through fog.

This time, Sunoo halted.

But he didn’t turn around.

For a breathless moment, all Sunghoon could hear was the wind rustling through scorched leaves and the slow, rhythmic thud of his own heartbeat.

Then, finally, Sunoo turned—slowly.

Their eyes met.

And Sunghoon’s breath hitched.

Those silver eyes—cold, luminous, fathomless—locked onto his. The intensity in them was like standing at the edge of a cliff with a storm roaring beneath. For a moment, Sunghoon couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. It felt like staring into a mirror that reflected all the things he didn’t want to see.

“Where are you going?” he managed, the words slipping out with more fear than he intended. He hated how small his voice sounded.

Sunoo blinked once—slowly. His expression remained unreadable, carved in marble. When he answered, his voice was soft, almost bored.

“Home.”

That single word hung in the air like a blade.

Dismissive. Detached. Final.

Sunghoon’s fists clenched at his sides. “At least… tell me your name,” he demanded, voice trembling not with fear, but frustration. Frustration at how this stranger could unleash such unimaginable power and then just… walk away. Like none of this meant anything.

Sunoo tilted his head faintly, as if debating whether or not to humor the request. Then, with a soft chuckle—a low, almost mocking sound that barely curved his lips—he spoke.

“Sunoo.”

One word. No last name. No title. No explanation. Just a name—like a ghost signing his presence before fading into legend.

Riki’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god…”

His voice was barely a whisper, quivering with awe and disbelief.

“That power…” he choked, his throat dry. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Won took a shaky step backward, his gaze locked on Sunoo like he might turn and strike. “He could’ve killed us all in a heartbeat,” he muttered, voice hollow with the weight of the truth. “And we wouldn’t’ve even seen it coming.”

The destruction around them—the razed earth, the collapsed trees, the smoldering ruins—confirmed every word.

Sunghoon swallowed hard. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything—to demand more answers, to demand why—but the words froze as Sunoo turned his gaze back to him.

It was like being trapped under ice.

For a split second—so brief, so visceral—Sunghoon felt it. The full weight of Sunoo’s presence, unrestrained and absolute. An invisible force pressed down on him like gravity itself had grown vengeful. His knees nearly buckled. His lungs screamed for air. His vision swam at the edges.

It was like standing before an ancient being—something that had seen countless wars, suffered endless lifetimes, and carried them all in silence.

And then—

Sunoo was gone.

Gone in a blink.

No sound. No blur of movement. No flash of light.

One heartbeat he was there. The next—emptiness.

Only the faint crackle of energy lingered behind, fizzing in the air like static after a storm.

Sunghoon stood frozen in place, heart thudding, mouth dry, the echo of that name and that power still ricocheting through his bones.

Sunoo.

Chapter Text

Sunghoon staggered back, barely catching his balance as the crushing weight of Sunoo’s presence finally vanished. His chest heaved, lungs greedy for air now that the oppressive aura had lifted. The silence that followed was deafening—thick, trembling, reverent. His voice was hoarse, like it had been dragged across gravel.

“He’s… that strong,” he whispered, the truth of it sinking in like a slow, freezing tide. It wasn’t just awe—it was fear. A fear rooted deep in his bones.

Won stood motionless beside him, his gaze still fixed on the charred clearing where Sunoo had vanished like a specter into the wind. “We were nothing to him,” he murmured, each syllable laced with quiet dread. “We didn’t matter. He could’ve erased us like dust in the breeze. Without even trying.”

The words hit harder than Sunghoon expected. Cold. Unflinching. True.

Riki, usually the loudest voice in any room, was unusually silent. His eyes darted across the ruined landscape, taking in the lingering traces of destruction—the cracked earth, the blackened trees, the smoking corpse of the creature that had once seemed unstoppable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice stripped of bravado. “So what now?” It wasn’t a challenge. It was a genuine question, raw and shaken.

Sunghoon swallowed, forcing himself to look beyond the battlefield, beyond the lingering smoke and sparks. His mind raced, questions spiraling through him like a storm—Who is Sunoo? What does he want? What did he mean by this being a diversion? The warning echoed in his skull like a ticking clock.

He clenched his fists. No more waiting. No more watching from the sidelines.

“We need to know what he’s after,” he said, his voice low, unwavering. “And whether he’s friend or foe. He mentioned something—about this being just a diversion. That means there’s something worse coming. Something bigger. If we ignore that…”

He didn’t need to finish.

Riki and Won shared a glance—uneasy, uncertain—but slowly, they nodded.

Around them, the wind stirred, lifting ashes from the ground like gray snow. The last sparks of Sunoo’s energy still shimmered faintly in the air, casting eerie glows in the darkening sky. Thunder rolled in the distance, as if the heavens were still catching their breath.

The battlefield had gone still, but none of them could relax.

Sunghoon’s heart still pounded, the image of Sunoo standing amidst destruction etched into his memory like a scar.

The way he moved. The way he looked at them—as if they weren’t even worth killing.

“We have to find him,” Sunghoon muttered, barely louder than the wind.

Riki’s head snapped toward him, disbelief painted across his face. “Find him? Are you out of your mind?” His voice trembled, not out of fear but sheer frustration. “Did you not just see what he did? Did you not hear what Won said? That guy could end us before we even blink!”

Won’s frown deepened, his expression grim and unshaken. “Sunoo isn’t just some overpowered vampire. He’s on a level we’ve never even imagined. This isn’t like the others. He’s something else entirely. He might be the one behind the disappearances. Hunting him down could be exactly what he wants.”

“And what do you suggest?” Sunghoon snapped, a sharp edge creeping into his tone. “That we sit around and wait for more of those things to show up? That we just watch more of our people vanish into the dark and do nothing?”

The words hung heavy in the air, bitter and undeniable.

Riki crossed his arms, but his usual smirk was gone, replaced with something far more solemn. “So what’s your plan, then? We track down a god-tier vampire and what—ask politely if he’s behind all this?”

“We track him,” Sunghoon said firmly, his eyes narrowing with new resolve. “We follow the trail he left—his energy, his path. We figure out what he’s doing, where he’s headed. If he’s our enemy, we stop him. If he’s not…”

He hesitated, then finished, “We convince him to help us.”

Won’s brow furrowed, his skepticism clear. “Convince him? That man didn’t even blink at us. Didn’t flinch. He didn’t look curious. He looked bored. Like he was swatting flies.”

Sunghoon remembered the weight of that gaze—the soul-piercing intensity that had frozen him in place. That quiet power. That unspoken restraint.

“He’s dangerous,” Sunghoon said slowly. “I’m not denying that. But think about it. He could have killed us. All of us. Easily. And yet… he didn’t.”

Riki let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “Or maybe he wants us alive. Maybe we’re his entertainment. Maybe next time he’ll finish the show.”

“Maybe,” Sunghoon allowed. “But if there’s even a chance he’s not the enemy, if he knows something about what’s coming… then we can’t ignore him.”

The silence that followed was tense. The wind howled through the broken trees, and somewhere in the distance, something cracked—a branch, or the remnants of a dying flame.

Finally, Won spoke, voice quieter now. “Alright. But we do this smart. No rushing in, no heroic sacrifices. If we do this, we do it together. Carefully.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Agreed. We wait for dawn. His last strike left a trail of energy—we follow that. He’ll need to rest. He’s strong, but even someone like him can’t burn power like that forever. It’s our best chance to track him.”

Riki exhaled slowly, cracking his knuckles as a sliver of his old self returned. “Well… if we’re gonna die chasing a vampire god, might as well make it interesting.”

A grim smile tugged at Sunghoon’s lips.

This was no longer about fear.

It was about answers. About survival.

And whatever Sunoo was—monster, ally, or something in between—they couldn’t afford to ignore him any longer.

ཐི⋆ཋྀ

The heavy doors slammed behind him with a thunderous boom. Sunoo stormed in, his boots pounding against the marble floor as his breath came in furious bursts, each inhale laced with frustration.

His thoughts were a whirlwind, spinning faster than his racing pulse.

What the hell was I thinking? Helping a royal?
No—the prince, of all people.

His fists curled tightly at his sides, nails digging into his palms until they nearly broke skin.

“Stupid,” he hissed to himself, his voice low and venomous. “What the hell was I thinking giving him my name?”

As if summoned by his inner turmoil, Jay’s voice rang out with perfect timing—light, mocking, and unmistakably smug.

“Uh-oh,” he drawled from his spot against the wall, arms crossed, one brow arched with mischievous glee. “Looks like someone’s in a mood. What’s wrong, princess? Do you want to cuddle?”

Sunoo froze mid-step, head snapping toward Jay with a glare sharp enough to slice steel. His entire body radiated agitation, but Jay only smirked wider, as if he were feeding off it.

Jake’s laughter followed a second later, warm and teasing as he emerged from the shadows behind Jay. “You did run into your mystery prince again, didn’t you?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face like fire catching dry wood.

Sunoo’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I swear,” he growled, “if either of you finish that sentence, I’ll—”

“Oho!” Jay crowed, clapping his hands once in delight. “So you did see him again! That’s what that little dramatic storm cloud hovering above your head is about.”

He stepped forward, eyes glinting with curiosity that bordered on concern, but amusement still danced in his voice. “Well, next time you sneak out to play knight in shining armor, you better believe we’re tagging along. No more solo missions, pretty boy.”

“No!” Sunoo snapped, more forcefully than he intended. The room went silent for a beat, tension thick in the air.

Jay blinked. “Geez. Touchy.”

Jake elbowed him playfully, then turned to Sunoo with a softer, more genuine look. “Come on, Sun. We’ve been locked up in this dusty estate for days. Let us come with you next time. We’ll be careful. Promise.”

Jay leaned closer, his voice dipping into that faux-adorable register he always pulled when he wanted something. “Pleeeaaase?” he whined, batting his lashes and sticking out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “We’re bored and restless. You don’t want us to die of cabin fever, do you?”

Sunoo let out a tired sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. After a long pause, he gave in, though his expression made it clear he’d already begun regretting it.

“Alright, alright! You can stop doing that thing with your face, Jay. You’re not cute. You’re terrifying.”

Jay beamed, victorious. “Admit it. You love me.”

“I tolerate you,” Sunoo muttered.

But his smile faded as quickly as it came. The memory of what he’d seen today—the monstrosity, the impossible size, the raw terror in the air—came crashing back.

“But you two better be careful,” he added, the edge in his voice returning. “We faced something today. Something different. It was bigger than the usual ones. Not just bigger—humongous. Like a beast pulled straight from nightmare.”

Jay’s eyes sparkled with a dangerous sort of excitement, but Jake’s expression grew grim. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk.

Instead, he stepped forward, folding his arms slowly, brow furrowed. “Hmm,” he murmured. “Don’t you think that’s a little… strange?”

Sunoo’s gaze flicked toward him, the shift in tone not lost on him. “Strange how?”

Jake leaned forward, the playful mask gone completely. His voice was low, serious—a razor under velvet.

“Think about it,” he said. “Our arrival. The royal family being here of all places. And now, monsters appearing more frequently… and stronger. More brutal. More coordinated.” His voice dropped further. “And then the killings. The disappearances. It’s too much to be random. It doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

Sunoo’s eyes darkened, his mind sharpening like a blade being drawn from its sheath. His thoughts surged again, not in chaos, but with cold calculation. He took a step back, folding his arms as his gaze lowered to the floor.

“You think it’s all connected?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more haunted. Not out of disbelief—but out of the terrifying sense that he might agree.

Jake gave a half-shrug, but his face remained grave. “I don’t know. But it feels like a web. And someone’s pulling the strings from the center. Maybe it’s that prince. Maybe it’s something worse. But we’re caught in it now.”

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Only the soft hum of the old chandelier overhead filled the silence, its crystals gently swaying with the air’s tension. The fire crackled in the hearth behind them, casting flickering shadows across their faces, as if even the light itself was uneasy.

Finally, Sunoo nodded slowly, his voice like distant thunder. “Then we better find out what the hell it’s all leading to.”

And this time, even Jay didn’t smile.

ཐི⋆ཋྀ

Meanwhile, deep within the heart of the royal palace.

A heavy silence clung to the high-ceilinged chamber like a funeral shroud, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire in the marble hearth. Velvet drapes billowed slightly against the arched windows as a breeze swept through the night, cold and unsettling.

Seated at the long obsidian table, Vernon and Wonwoo listened in brooding stillness as Sunghoon, Riki, and Won relayed the harrowing events from the battlefield. Every word struck like the tolling of a bell, each detail more chilling than the last.

When Sunghoon spoke of Sunoo—of his raw, incomprehensible power and the monstrous force he had obliterated with almost divine ease—a palpable weight settled over the room. It was the weight of dread, realization, and something worse: helplessness.

“There’s no doubt,” Vernon said at last, his voice low and gravelled, as if speaking the truth made it heavier. “Something bigger is at play here.”

His words hung in the air like smoke.

From the far end of the table, a figure shifted—Soobin, one of the oldest members of the royal council. Draped in a midnight-blue robe etched with ancient sigils, he leaned forward, his weathered face carved with lines of wisdom and worry. His eyes, ageless and piercing, locked onto Sunghoon’s.

“Indeed,” he murmured, the depth of his voice silencing even the crackling fire. “If that vampire—Sunoo—isn’t the one conjuring these disturbances… then he might very well be the reason they’re happening at all.”

Sunghoon’s brows knit together, his confusion breaking through his quiet intensity. “What do you mean?”

Soobin’s breath trembled as he exhaled slowly, the weight of his years pressing down on his shoulders. “What if he’s not the cause—but the bait?”

The words struck like thunder.

“These creatures… this surge of chaos… it may all be orchestrated not to attack him, but to draw him out. To push him into the open. To weaken him. What you saw may not have been the enemy’s full hand. It may have only been the opening move in something far more catastrophic.”

Sunghoon’s fists clenched at his sides, knuckles paling as his jaw tightened. The idea that the terrifying beast they had faced could be merely a pawn in someone else's scheme sent icy dread slicing through his spine.

“So what do we do?” he asked, his voice tight, desperate for direction—but laced with rising fire.

Before the silence could grow too thick, another voice cut through it like a sword—calm, cold, commanding.

“You need to find him,” said Taehyun, another elder, seated near the flickering hearth. His silver hair caught the firelight, but his eyes remained shadowed beneath his hood. “Immediately.”

His words allowed no room for debate.

“We cannot prepare for what’s coming until we understand what he truly is… and what role he plays in all of this,” Taehyun continued. “If he is our enemy, we must know how to stop him. If he is not—then we must reach him before those who intend to destroy him do.”

Riki looked between them all, the normally brash defiance in his eyes dimmed now by grim comprehension. “And if we find out he is the reason? That he’s behind it all?”

The room fell silent again, heavier this time.

It was Wonwoo who spoke next, his voice barely above a whisper—but laced with ancient sorrow.

“Then may the gods have mercy on us all.”

Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, as if the heavens themselves were listening.

Chapter Text

Back at the hideout…

The room was bathed in the dim glow of flickering lanterns and scattered candlelight, papers and maps spread across a worn wooden table. The atmosphere inside was thick with urgency and unspoken dread. Sunoo, Jay, and Jake hovered over a chaotic collection of reports—each one detailing anomalies, disappearances, unnatural deaths. Strings connected points on maps, red ink circled villages that had vanished overnight. All clues—fragmented, cryptic—leading nowhere and everywhere at once.

The air was tight with tension, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

Sunoo ran a hand through his hair, frustration tightening in his chest. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “All these leads... but they’re scattered. Like someone wants us chasing shadows.”

Jay, sprawled in a chair with his boots propped up, twirled a dagger between his fingers. “Or maybe we’re already too late.”

Jake, hunched forward, eyes scanning another faded report, barely acknowledged the comment. “Something’s not right. These attacks—they’re deliberate. Patterned. Like they’re pushing toward something.”

Then—

BOOM.

A thunderous explosion detonated just outside, swallowing the night in fire and fury.

The shockwave struck like a giant’s fist—windows shattered instantly, glass hailing across the room in lethal shards. Walls splintered with a deafening crack, and the very foundation of the house groaned as if it were crying out in agony. The force threw Sunoo backward, the table flipping midair as paper and fire collided. Heat, dust, and chaos swallowed everything.

He hit the floor hard, ears ringing violently. “Are you guys okay?!” he shouted, coughing on ash and smoke.

A groan answered him through the haze.

“Barely,” Jay rasped, emerging from beneath a half-collapsed beam, blood trickling from a gash above his brow. His clothes were torn, face streaked with soot, but his grip on his dagger remained unbroken.

“There!” Jake cried, his voice sharp and urgent as he pointed through a gaping hole in the wreckage.

The world around them was still ringing from the explosion, but time seemed to freeze.

Through the swirling smoke and glowing embers, a solitary figure stood amidst the ruin. He hadn’t moved. Not once. As if he had been standing there all along, untouched by the blast, untouched by anything mortal.

A silhouette cloaked in darkness, regal and cruel.

The smoke parted like reverent servants, revealing him step by deliberate step.

Sunoo’s breath caught in his throat.

The flames cast long, flickering shadows across the stranger’s face—chiseled, beautiful, in the way a predator is beautiful just before it strikes. His skin was pale as moonlight, flawless, and sharp like carved obsidian. But it was his eyes that paralyzed Sunoo. Icy, calculating, and utterly inhuman. There was no emotion there—only hunger, only purpose.

Malice incarnate.

Sunoo’s entire body screamed to move, to run, but he was frozen. Not by fear, but by recognition.

He knew who this was.

His voice barely escaped his throat, laced with dread. “It’s him…”

Jay straightened, eyes narrowing, all traces of humor gone. Jake instinctively stepped in front of Sunoo, his posture defensive, protective.

But Sunoo barely noticed.

His voice cracked in disbelief. “Baekho.”

He said it like invoking a curse.

“The Scourge of the Council… the Harbinger of Chaos…” His heart pounded, throat dry. “The Source. The First Turned.”

Baekho’s lips curled into a slow, venomous smile—something ancient and amused.

“Ah,” he drawled, his voice smooth like velvet soaked in poison, “so you’ve heard of me. How delightful.”

His words slithered through the smoke, wrapping around them with invisible claws. Every syllable sent a shiver down Sunoo’s spine.

The ground beneath their feet seemed to pulse with his presence.

This wasn’t just any rogue vampire.

This was Baekho—the beginning of their nightmares, the dark whisper behind every war council and prophecy. A legend turned terror. A creature of myth who had clawed his way back into the realm of reality.

And now, he stood in their home—in their sanctuary—with fire at his back and death in his gaze.

Sunoo’s muscles coiled, instincts blazing as his body remembered who he was, what he could do. But it didn’t matter. Against him, power wasn’t enough. Rage wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough.

Baekho, the First Turned, had come.

And with him… came the end of everything.

“What do you want?” Sunoo demanded, his voice cutting through the haze like a blade, steady even as dread twisted like ice in his gut.

Baekho’s smile widened, a serpentine curve painted in shadow and fire. The flickering flames danced across his pale skin, illuminating his sharp features and the cruel glint in his eyes. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, boots crunching over broken glass and splintered wood.

“What do I want?” he echoed softly, savoring each word like a predator circling its prey. His voice was smooth—too smooth—laced with malice that slithered beneath the surface. “I want what was promised to me. The fall of the council. The obliteration of the royal bloodline. The opening of the gates to the ancient world.”

He stopped just beyond the debris, his figure outlined in the blazing wreckage behind him—like a specter risen from hell itself.

“And you, Sunoo,” he continued, his tone darkening, “you and your little prince… and the blood of the last witch… are the keys to making it all happen.”

Sunoo’s stomach dropped.

The prince?
The blood of the last witch?

His mind spun, heart slamming against his ribs as realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Sunghoon. And someone else—someone unknown. Pieces began to snap together in his mind like jagged shards of a puzzle drenched in blood.

Baekho’s gaze was unrelenting, as if feeding off Sunoo’s unraveling thoughts. “Indeed,” he whispered, stepping closer, the very air thickening around him like a stormfront. “The witch will make me untouchable. And the prince—he is the final key to unlocking the ancient world. A realm lost to time… a well of power and chaos unlike anything this decaying world has ever seen.”

His voice dipped into a growl, each word reverberating with unnatural energy. “With it, I will shatter the council. Crush the royal family beneath my heel. And reshape this world in my image.”

Sunoo’s fists clenched at his sides, trembling with fury and fear. “But why?” he demanded, voice tight with disbelief. “Why destroy everything? What’s the point of all this chaos?!”

Baekho’s smile vanished.

In a blink, his expression turned glacial, all amusement drained into something ancient and bitter.

“The council,” he hissed, “is weak. Cowards clinging to rusted laws and broken oaths. They fear true power. They feared me. They tried to chain it, hide it beneath layers of lies. But I found it. I clawed my way to it. And now I will use it to tear their world apart.”

The flickering fire seemed to bow to his rage, flaring higher with each word.

Sunoo swallowed hard, his breath ragged. His voice barely came out. “You’re… insane.”

Baekho’s laughter cut through the smoke, sharp and merciless. “Perhaps. But madness is merely clarity seen through the wrong lens.”

Then his tone dropped—lower, heavier, more dangerous.

“But this isn’t just about them, Sunoo.”

Sunoo’s heartbeat faltered.

Baekho’s eyes locked onto him with surgical focus, predatory and calculating. “This is about you, too.”

Sunoo’s lips parted, a whisper escaping. “Me?”

Baekho nodded slowly, as if savoring the reveal. “You, Sunoo… are far more important than you understand. Your bloodline pulses with something old. Something forgotten by time but feared by those who remember. You are not just another pawn. You’re a catalyst.”

He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper that slithered into Sunoo’s ears like icewater. “And your parents… ah, yes. They possess the artifact I need to become unstoppable.”

The world tilted.

Sunoo’s vision blurred for a moment. His parents? The air rushed from his lungs. Confusion, fear, fury—an avalanche of emotion surged through him, unrelenting.

He took a step back, jaw tight. “My parents are dead.”

The words came out sharp, jagged.

Baekho’s expression didn’t flinch. “I don’t care.”

Each syllable landed like a dagger.

“And you’re going to tell me where they hid it,” he sneered. “One way or another. Because with that artifact, I will transcend mortality. I will become more than legend. More than fear. I will become invincible.” His voice crescendoed like a crescendo of thunder. “And nothing—not the council, not the royals, not even you—will stand in my way.”

Sunoo’s chest heaved, a storm raging behind his eyes.

But beneath the rage, a cold horror was spreading.

What artifact?
What bloodline?
What did my parents hide from me?
Was he behind their death?

Questions stabbed at his mind like claws, each one bleeding more confusion. The ground beneath him felt unsteady, like the foundations of his very life were cracking open to reveal something monstrous beneath.

But there was no time.

Baekho was moving again, closer, darker, hungrier.

The moment for answers had passed.

Now came the storm.

Chapter Text

Baekho’s footsteps struck the ground like the toll of a death knell, each one reverberating through the shattered ruins around them. The night air was heavy, humming with an unnatural stillness as if the world itself held its breath. Firelight flickered behind him, casting grotesque shadows on the crumbling walls, painting him in strokes of red and black—like a monster born from flame and darkness.

He stopped a few paces away, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “So,” he drawled, his voice dipping to a poisonous whisper, “here’s how this is going to work, little Sunoo.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a slow, sinister smile.
“You’re going to help me find your parents… retrieve the artifact… and once I have it in my hands,” he leaned in, his breath cold and serpentine, “we’ll open the gates together.”

Then, almost tenderly, almost mockingly, he added with a dark chuckle, “And you, Sunoo… you will become my mate.”

The words struck like ice to the bone.

Sunoo’s entire body tensed, his blood igniting with fury at the vile declaration. Mate? The very thought made his skin crawl. Power flared within him, a crackle of lightning arcing between his fingers. The air around him pulsed, electricity hissing in the silence.

His voice came low, sharp, and seething with defiance. “And if I refuse?”

Baekho’s grin twisted wider, fangs glinting in the firelight. “Oh,” he purred, his eyes glowing with crimson malice, “I’m counting on it.”

He vanished.

In a blink—a blur of black shadow and malicious intent—Baekho surged forward with inhuman speed. Sunoo’s eyes barely had time to widen before an iron grip closed around his throat. The world tilted as Baekho lifted him clean off the ground, one-handed, like a doll dangling by the neck.

The pressure was unbearable—crushing. Sunoo’s vision blurred, stars exploding behind his eyes as his feet kicked uselessly in the air. His lungs screamed for breath.

Baekho’s face was inches from his, calm and terrifyingly composed. “I’ll tear this world apart to get what I want,” he hissed, voice coiled tight with malice. “And I’ll start… with your precious prince.”

Sunoo’s heart pounded like war drums, panic and rage crashing through him in tidal waves. The world darkened at the edges, but through the haze, a single searing thought cut through: I have to protect them. I can’t let him win. I won’t.

Lightning flared within him—wild, primal, furious.

With a cry that tore from the very core of his soul, Sunoo summoned the raw, untamed storm inside him. Sparks erupted from his body as a blinding shockwave of electricity burst outward. It surged through Baekho’s arm, cracking with violent force.

The grip faltered.

Baekho’s snarl of pain was drowned in the electric roar as Sunoo was hurled backward, landing hard on his side, gasping for breath. His chest heaved, every muscle screaming, but he was alive—free.

Baekho straightened, wiping a thin trail of blood from the corner of his lip. His expression was unreadable for a heartbeat—then it twisted into something unholy. Amusement. Admiration. Obsession.

“Impressive,” he growled, his voice thick with something dangerous. “I always knew you were special.”

Sunoo forced himself upright, shoulders heaving, lips bloodied, but his gaze was burning steel. Sparks crackled at his fingertips, fury radiating from him like a storm barely held in check.

“You’ll never have the prince. Or my parents. Or the artifact,” he growled. “And you sure as hell will never have me.”

Baekho laughed.

It was a sound without joy, hollow and venomous, echoing across the broken landscape like the howl of some infernal beast. “We’ll see about that,” he sneered, voice dripping with cruel delight. “We’ll see.”

And then the darkness moved.

Without warning, Baekho raised his arm and unleashed a torrent of seething, black energy. It exploded outward, a wave of raw malice that tore through the air like a hurricane of shadow and despair. Sunoo barely had time to brace before it slammed into him.

The force launched him like a ragdoll, his body crashing through splintered beams and shattered stone. The ruins groaned and buckled around him as he hit the ground hard, the breath ripped from his lungs.

“Sunoo!” a voice cried out—panicked, desperate.

Jay.

From the chaos, Jay emerged in a burst of brilliant light, his true form revealed—his ethereal elven features radiant with power. His silver hair shimmered, his violet eyes blazing as he raised his staff. With a wordless cry, he struck the ground and summoned a pulse of dazzling brilliance.

The light detonated outward in a blinding flash, slamming into Baekho and staggering him back, his snarl of rage drowned in the searing radiance.

Jay was already at Sunoo’s side, kneeling beside him, hands trembling as he tried to lift him. “Sunoo—Sunoo, please! Are you okay?”

Sunoo groaned, his vision still swimming, every limb aching. “I’m… I’m fine,” he gasped, though the weight of exhaustion was crushing.

But there was no time to recover.

A scream of fury ripped through the night.

Baekho rose again, a monstrous silhouette against the inferno. His eyes glowed like coals, his hands wreathed in shadows that writhed and snapped like chained beasts.

“You think you can escape me?!” he bellowed, his voice laced with thunder. “You think you can defy me?!”

“Cover your ears!” Jake’s voice rang out.

From behind the ruin, Jake stepped into the fray. His expression was solemn, his lips parted in song.

A melody began—haunting, beautiful, and laced with power. It echoed in the air, not just heard, but felt. The ground trembled beneath their feet as Jake’s voice rose into a crescendo, his eyes locking with Baekho’s.

And then—

Boom.

A deafening blast erupted, the very sound of Jake’s song twisting into a weapon. The shockwave exploded outward, slicing through the battlefield and striking Baekho with the force of a sonic storm.

Baekho screamed, clutching his ears, staggering back as the vibrations shattered the space around him.

“We have to go—now!” Jake shouted.

He rushed forward and scooped Sunoo into his arms, gritting his teeth as he turned to Jay. “We won’t survive another hit.”

Jay nodded grimly, his gaze never leaving Baekho. He raised his staff high, then slammed it into the earth.

A dome of searing white light erupted around them, crackling like a thousand suns.

Baekho roared in rage, lunging through the smoke—but the explosion of light that followed shook the very heavens. It engulfed the battlefield in a blinding storm of radiance, forcing Baekho back, back, back—

And when the light finally died…

They were gone.

Only Baekho remained—alone amidst the wreckage, his chest rising and falling with ragged, furious breaths. The ruins burned around him. Ash drifted like snow. His fists clenched tight at his sides.

A slow, manic grin crept across his face.

“I’ll get you, little Sunoo,” he whispered, voice like venom. “You will be mine.”

His laughter echoed into the smoke-filled night—feral, unhinged, and echoing with a promise of horrors yet to come.

ཐི⋆ཋྀ

Meanwhile, back at the palace, a deep rumble thundered through the marble corridors like a beast stirring from its slumber. Chandeliers trembled. Paintings shifted crookedly on the walls. The tremor of the explosion was no mere quake—it was a pulse of war, and it rattled the very bones of the castle.

Riki shot to his feet, the teacup in his hand clattering to the floor, shattering like the calm before the storm. His sharp eyes flicked toward the distant horizon beyond the palace windows, where a plume of black smoke now coiled into the sky like a serpent.

“Something’s happening,” he muttered, the smirk that usually played on his lips wiped clean.
Sunghoon was already moving, his breath shallow with instinctive dread. Won, silent and composed, followed them without hesitation.

The moment they stepped outside, a gust of scorched wind hit them like a slap—heavy with ash, metallic with the scent of blood and burning ozone. They raced across the palace grounds, the wind howling louder as they neared the epicenter of the chaos.

And then they saw it.

The once peaceful glade where the house had stood—now an unrecognizable wasteland.

Charred ruins clawed at the sky. Ember and ash danced like haunted snowflakes in the twilight. Jagged remnants of stone and wood jutted from the ground like broken teeth. The air itself vibrated with residual power—an echo of a battle not meant for mortal eyes. The silence was eerie, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Sunghoon’s steps faltered, his breath catching in his throat.
“What happened here?” he whispered, barely audible over the distant crackle of burning wood. The words left his lips as if spoken at a funeral.

Riki slowly stepped forward, his boots crunching over scorched soil. His usual bravado had been replaced by an uncanny stillness. The corners of his mouth tugged downward, and his gaze flicked from the devastation to the horizon as if he were watching for ghosts.

“This isn’t just a fight,” he said darkly. “This is what a warzone looks like when Sunoo is pissed.”

Won remained still, squinting through the smoke. His usually composed face was furrowed in thought, his nostrils flaring slightly.
“Whoever did this is no ordinary foe,” he murmured. “And Sunoo... he wasn’t alone.”

Sunghoon’s gaze snapped to the faint, sizzling arcs on the ground—blackened burn marks that hadn’t fully faded, buzzing faintly with static. The unmistakable scent of ozone filled his senses. His heart plummeted.
“Lightning,” he said, his voice hollow. “That was Sunoo’s power. He was here.”

Riki crouched, running his fingers through the still-warm ash, letting it sift through his fingers.
“He left his mark,” he muttered. “But something else did too. This wasn’t a one-sided fight.”

“Baekho,” Sunghoon said at last, the name a curse on his tongue. The moment he said it, the world seemed to grow colder.
Won’s head snapped toward him, alarm darkening his features. “The Baekho? The one who’s been butchering the council?”
“The same.” Sunghoon’s voice was tight. “If he’s after Sunoo, then we don’t have much time left.”

Riki stood up, dusting ash from his coat with a forced grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “So what’s the plan, Ice Prince?” he asked, the usual sarcasm now edged with something grim. “We chasing down this monster and saving your vampire friend?”

Sunghoon glared at him, but behind that glare burned something deeper—rage, fear, urgency. “We don’t have a choice,” he said. “If Baekho gets to Sunoo again—he won’t just destroy him. He’ll tear the council apart. He’ll burn everything.”

Before another word could be spoken, a flicker of movement in the distance caught Sunghoon’s eye. His breath caught.

A figure emerged from the veil of smoke—two, no, three. Jake’s silhouette was hunched under the weight of another. Jay walked beside them, his staff glowing with a faint protective shimmer.

And in Jake’s arms—Sunoo.

Sunghoon’s heart stopped. He sprinted forward. “Sunoo!”

Jake staggered slightly, shifting Sunoo’s limp body more securely in his grasp. Jay’s eyes narrowed and in a blink, his staff flared with light, magic coiling outward like a whip of pure energy.
“Who are you?” Jay barked, power lacing every syllable. His elven features shimmered with fierce brilliance, protective and unyielding.

Sunghoon skidded to a halt, hands raised in surrender. “I’m Sunghoon! These are my companions, Riki and Won—we’re with the royal family! We mean you no harm!”

He held up his hand, the silver signet of the royal house gleaming in the light. For a moment, Jay hesitated—until Jake placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s the prince,” Jake said wearily. “Stand down.”

Jay lowered the staff reluctantly, though his glowing eyes never stopped watching them.

“We got out just in time,” Jay said, his voice ragged. “Baekho… he’s stronger than we imagined.”

Jake adjusted Sunoo in his arms, the weight of exhaustion and worry visible in the slump of his shoulders. “Sunoo fought him. Held him off long enough for us to escape, but…” His voice cracked. “He’s not doing well.”

Sunghoon moved without hesitation, slipping under Sunoo’s other arm. The touch of Sunoo’s skin sent a chill up his spine—it was too cold. Too pale.

“Hang in there,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice cracking with something raw and unspoken. “You’re safe now.”

But he knew. They all knew. Baekho wasn’t done.

From the shadows beyond the battlefield, hidden by smoke and the dying light, Baekho watched.

His cloak rippled behind him like the wings of a predator. His lips curved into a wicked grin as his fingers grazed the scar on his lip—the one Sunoo had left. The pain was dull now, but the memory was sharp, electric.
“They can run,” Baekho whispered, his voice a death knell in the wind. “But they can’t hide.”

The artifact. The council. The gates. All secondary now. His gaze burned with obsession, his smile widening into something monstrous.
Sunoo wasn’t just the key—he was the door.

“Soon,” he whispered to the smoldering ruin. “You’ll be mine, Sunoo.”

With a flick of his cloak, he vanished into the darkness.

Back at the edge of the battlefield, unaware of the eyes that had watched them, Sunghoon pulled the group together. “We need to get him to the castle,” he said, his voice sharp with command. “It’s the only place strong enough to protect him.”

“No!” Jay snapped, startling them. “He wouldn’t want that. He hates the palace!”

“But he has to heal,” Sunghoon insisted, stepping forward. “It’s not about comfort anymore. If Baekho finds him again out here—we won’t be able to stop him. Not like this. The royal guard, the other vampires—they’ll have a chance at defending him there.”

Jay looked down at Sunoo, eyes torn with emotion. His fingers clenched around his staff, trembling.

Sunghoon’s voice softened. “Please. You have my word. I’ll protect him.”

Jake finally nodded, exhaustion breaking through his hesitation. “Alright,” he said quietly. “But we need to move fast. He’s fading.”

Together, they vanished into the night—one step ahead of the shadow that pursued them. And in the distance, where the ruin still smoldered, Baekho’s laugh echoed faintly.

Low. Cold. Inevitable.