The capital of Erevos was pulsing with anticipation. Banners of every district hung high from skyspires, each rippling with magical enchantments that glimmered beneath the sun. Floating camera orbs buzzed through the air, broadcasting the grand opening of the National Tournament to every corner of the nation. The main stadium—The Obsidian Colosseum—was a monolith of blacksteel and dragonbone, a place where legends were both forged and shattered.
Teams from all four districts had arrived and been led to their designated preparation towers that floated like miniature castles above the arena. Inside Velmora's tower, the mood was tense but focused.
Kenneth sat on a polished stone bench by the balcony, eyes tracing the horizon. Despite the grandeur, the lights, the excitement… he couldn't shake the weight in his chest.
"Always be on high alert in Braggon Vale."
Malrik's voice echoed in his memory. The old vampire's gaze had been sharp that morning before Kenneth boarded the train. "You may be facing humans and superhumans in this tournament, but never forget what lies beneath the surface. The crown watches. The bloodline watches. And if they find you—"
Kenneth exhaled slowly. He hadn't realized how much he missed Malrik's presence until now. The old vampire wasn't just his mentor anymore. He had become something else… something deeper.
A father.
Malrik had taught him how to fight, yes. How to master his powers, how to reign in the beast within. But more than that, he taught him restraint. Honor. The power of choice. And now, for the first time in years, Kenneth was far from his guidance.
Zarek approached quietly, a plate of steamed dumplings in hand. He didn't say anything at first—just placed the food down beside Kenneth and leaned against the railing, arms crossed.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he finally said, his voice low and calm.
Kenneth managed a faint smile. "Something like that."
"You thinking about Malrik?" Zarek asked without looking at him.
Kenneth gave a small nod.
"He's a good man," Zarek continued. "Scary, but… good. I don't think I'd be half the fighter I am now if not for him, even indirectly."
"I just…" Kenneth trailed off. "He always knew what to do. What to say. He made the world seem less—chaotic."
Zarek gave a rare chuckle. "The world is chaotic, Kenneth. But you're not a kid anymore. You're stronger than you think."
Kenneth turned to him, brow furrowed. "You ever think about what comes after all this? The tournament, the rankings…"
Zarek didn't respond right away. Instead, he looked out over the colosseum. "Every day."
Before Kenneth could press further, a loud trumpet blast echoed through the city. A voice amplified by magic boomed from the arena center.
"LET THE NATIONAL TOURNAMENT COMMENCE!"
From their tower, the Velmora team could see the floating platforms in the arena beginning to shift and rearrange, forming the first battlefield. A harsh mountainous terrain with shifting ledges and energy-charged storm clouds overhead. Cameras zoomed in on each team as announcers began introducing the districts.
Kenneth stood, his melancholy replaced by focus. For now, he would fight. But a part of him, deep down, still felt the chill of unseen eyes watching.
And he was right.
Far from the glittering towers of Braggon Vale, on the fog-choked outskirts of Velmora, a quiet village sat nestled between hills and thick pine forests. It was the kind of place forgotten by time, where the stars were brighter and magic lay low in the earth. Tonight, though, the village would know terror.
A dark carriage rolled through the muddy streets, its wheels never touching the ground. Inside sat Aurelius , the First Born Prince of the Vampire Kingdom, dressed in obsidian robes stitched with runes in ancient blood. His crimson eyes glowed faintly beneath the hood as he stepped out onto the cracked stones of a decrepit village square.
His elite squad followed—five vampires clad in armor woven with voidthread, silent and hungry. The stench of bloodlust hung thick in the air.
They entered a modest wooden house near the town center. Inside, a middle-aged woman—the former Velmora combat strategist, Professor Yelra Myrrin—sat hunched over books and scrolls, working late into the night.
She turned at the sound of the door creaking open, fear immediately clouding her face.
"Who—? This is private property—"
Aurelius stepped forward slowly, his gaze locking with hers.
"Yelra Myrrin. You were once a top strategist for Velmora Academy. You oversaw student records. Accessed training logs. And more importantly… you know where Kenneth Prince is."
Her lips trembled. "I don't know what you're—"
"Look at me."
His voice dropped into a deeper register, woven with dark compulsion. His eyes flared brighter.
Yelra gasped, her pupils dilating, breath catching as her body stiffened.
Aurelius whispered, "Tell me where he is."
Her voice became hollow, robotic. "Braggon Vale… Velmora tower… Level four… east wing chamber."
Aurelius smiled, sharp and cold.
"Good girl."
He turned to his soldiers. "Feed."
Before she could even fall, two vampires lunged, fangs sinking into her neck. The others followed, draining her in seconds, red dripping from their mouths like wine.
Aurelius didn't spare her a second glance. The weak-minded were nothing but cattle. But Kenneth… Kenneth was more.
As the squad stepped out into the moonlight, Aurelius tilted his head upward, the wind stirring his cloak.
The soldiers knelt behind him, full and grinning.
Aurelius clenched his gloved fist, blood from his claw still dripping onto the stone.
"Soon, Kenneth Prince… the weight of your blood will crush you. You will kneel before me, not as a rival—but as a dog at my feet. And when the collar snaps around your neck, the throne will have no more doubts."
He smirked, revealing his fangs.
"The crown shall belong to me—sealed in your chains and your screams."
And with that, the shadows swallowed him whole.