Kael sat alone at his desk, carefully polishing the black egg once more.
Its surface shimmered faintly under the candlelight—obsidian-smooth, pulsing now and then like it was… breathing.
Yue hovered nearby, arms crossed.
"Is that thing even alive?" she asked, half-curious, half-suspicious.
Kael didn't answer.
His hand moved slowly over the shell, and though it was cold to the touch, he could feel it—that invisible tether.
The beast-taming card he'd used had worked.
The bond was real.
Then—
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
Kael froze, breath catching.
Yue noticed instantly.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice sharp.
Kael didn't respond.
He closed his eyes, focusing.
The connection pulsed again.
But this time… something answered.
A whisper, low and guttural.
Twisted.
Ancient.
Not in words, but in hunger.
Blood.
Kael's eyes snapped open.
He was shaking.
Sweat clung to his forehead.
And for a heartbeat, just a heartbeat, he saw something——a flicker of shadow, wrong in shape, wrong in silence.
A thing that shouldn't exist.
Yue stepped closer.
"Kael? What just happened?"
He looked at her, startled, as if pulled from a dream.
His mouth opened, closed.
Then, awkwardly:
"…I think it wants blood."
Yue blinked.
Her expression morphed from concern to what the actual fuckin half a second.
But Kael was already moving.
He grabbed his coat, wrapped the egg in cloth, and stood with sudden purpose.
"Where are you going?" Yue asked, following.
Kael didn't look back.
He spoke just one word:
"Mount Veilspire"
###
Today, Mount Veilspire would not sleep.
Not while the Devil walked its slopes.
The air was sharp with cold, thick with the scent of blood long before a drop had fallen.
Snow crunched beneath dark boots as Kael moved through the frost-lined forest—cloaked in black, masked in shadow, the egg cradled in his arm like a sacred offering.
And then—they came.
Ten Frostmane Wolves lunged from the treeline.
Rank 2 magical beasts, their white pelts steaming, fangs coated in chilling mist.
Kael didn't even blink.
He lifted his hand, and mana surged to his palm—twisting into a dense, unstable sphere.
Arcanum Vortex.
A single cast.
One heartbeat later, the world exploded.
The wolves were gone.
Not dead.
Erased.
Not a single bone remained.
Kael exhaled, feeling the lingering hum of power in his veins.
Last time, one of them nearly killed me, he thought.
Now…
He felt untouchable.
Drunk on control.
He stepped into the clearing and gently set the black egg down in a pool of steaming blood.
And it drank.
The blood didn't soak the soil.
It rose—twisting, spinning, dragged toward the egg in thick crimson ribbons.
It vanished into the shell like light into a void.
The egg pulsed once, like it had a heartbeat.
Yue appeared behind him, silent as breath.
Her voice was low, wary.
"Kael… this is the third time. And it's still feeding."
Kael didn't look back.
His eyes were locked on the egg, transfixed.
A grin crept across his lips.
"That shadow I saw… it's becoming clearer."
Yue's expression darkened.
"Are you sure you're not awakening something that should have stayed buried?"
Kael waved a hand, laughing softly.
"You worry too much. He's just a little hungry."
Yue fell silent, glancing around at the blood-slicked corpses.
All of this—just to feed that egg.
She turned away.
"I hope you don't regret this."
But Kael was already moving.
The slaughter continued.
He stalked the mountain like death incarnate.
Rank 1 and Rank 2 beasts poured out of their dens—but none stood a chance.
He moved through them like a storm.
One cast. One breath. One kill.
By dusk, the mountain was painted in red.
Blood ran in the rivers.
The air stank of death.
Frost turned to rot.
And still, the Devil did not stop.
Because something in that egg—
was finally waking up.
###
While Kael fed his "little one" in quiet satisfaction, Mount Veilspire groaned under chaos.
The villages at its base were in full panic.
From the early hours of the morning, the sky had echoed with blasts.
Screams—long, guttural, inhuman—rolled down the slopes like thunder.
The wind carried the metallic stench of blood.
And the snow?
Once white.
Now stained crimson.
It looked as if the mountain itself had begun to bleed.
Desperate, the villagers sent word to the Duke.
By late afternoon, a carriage arrived.
It was red.
Deep, lacquered crimson—not a noble's transport, but a warning.
The kind of red that whispered of blood debts and silent wars.
When the door opened, a familiar figure stepped out.
Aerik Drenlor.
Not a hero.
Not a savior.
Just another monster.
Once heir to the duchy. Now… little more than a prisoner in silk.
Aerik adjusted his cloak, scowled at the mountain, and muttered something obscene under his breath.
He had been confined to the estate for weeks—punishment for an act no one dared speak of publicly.
Now, the Duke had given him a second chance.
Redemption, they said.
But Aerik had no interest in redemption.
He looked up at the crimson mountain and spat.
Yes—he had poisoned that idiot.
Slipped a stolen toxin into his food, straight from the Royal Academy's restricted vaults.
A poison so refined it slipped past even the most advanced alchemy tests—silent, slow, and subtle enough to kill a Rank 4 mage if administered over time.
Tasteless.
Untraceable.
Death in disguise.
It was meant for the Duke.
Eventually.
For his older brother too.
But first… the weakest link.
The invisible heir.
Kaelion.
A test run.
But Kaelion survived.
Somehow.
And worse—he humiliated Aerik publicly, exposing him without revealing the truth.
The whispers never stopped after that.
Aerik clenched his jaw.
That bastard ruined everything.
Now he stood here—sent to "investigate" what the public believed was a Rank 3 beast wreaking havoc in the mountains.
He had brought ten Rank 2 mages with him.
They thought they were here to slay a monster.
Just as Aerik prepared to ascend the bloodstained mountain, he paused.
A figure stood at its base—cloaked, unmoving.
The wind shifted, tugging back the hood.
Golden hair. Sharp features.
A presence that shimmered with Rank 2 mana.
The stranger looked young.
Too young.
But everything about him—his stance, the calm confidence in his gaze, the golden sword resting at his hip—screamed nobility.
Aerik narrowed his eyes.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "State your name, or—"
The stranger chuckled.
"Relax," he said, voice smooth.
"I'm just a lone mage passing through.
Saw the mountain bleeding from half a province away and thought, ....hm, that looks fun."
He stepped forward, smiling like they were old friends.
"The name's Eiden Lioren."
The name didn't ring a bell—but Aerik's instincts bristled.
Suspicious, he held out a hand.
"Proof?"
Eiden raised a brow, then casually tossed him a scroll.
Aerik caught it.
His eyes widened.
An official Royal Academy invitation—signed and sealed.
Genuine.
Aerik's mind raced.
Another fool from the academy?
No—another weapon to use.
He plastered on a polite smile.
"A junior from the Academy? What a surprise.
I'm from there myself.
And already Rank 2? Impressive. Truly."
Eiden shrugged.
"I try."
Aerik gestured toward the mountain.
"Well then, Brother Lioren… shall we explore this cursed—ah, I mean, beautiful mountain together?"
Eiden's eyes glinted with amusement.
"Why not?"
And with that, the two mages stepped into the crimson snow—
One hiding secrets.
The other hiding a blade.