Chapter 8
It had been just two days since the thirty-one successful candidates were inducted into the B Empire's inner circle.
They were housed within the Spire of Preparation, a towering fortress at the heart of Central Land, where they awaited their individual assignments under the Four Kings. Every morning was filled with physical trials, meditative exercises, and exposure to new technologies and energy harnessing systems.
But beneath the surface of progress and pride… cracks had begun to show.
And the largest crack came that evening.
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The Gathering Hall
In the Great Hall of Moon Room, beneath glowing chandeliers and carved obsidian walls, the new recruits were summoned to meet with a group of "honored allies" — high-ranking citizens who had once served the Empire or were born into noble lineages.
That's when they entered — the Royal Vampires of the Northern Nation.
Pale. Regal. Cloaked in deep crimson robes, with silver-etched armor clinging to their bodies like shadows. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark. There were four of them, led by Lord Pierre, a centuries-old bloodborn who was known across the lands as a telepathic executioner.
Behind him was Lady Zoey, unnervingly elegant, known for draining soldiers' minds as easily as their blood. The other two, Emma and Haila (younger vampires), held themselves like serpents ready to strike.
The tension thickened as soon as they entered.
Solla stepped back instinctively.
"Whoa… I thought this was a peaceful reception," he muttered.
"They're here to intimidate," Nate whispered. "Nothing peaceful about it."
Lord Pierre's gaze swept the hall. When it landed on Van Staden, it paused.
And narrowed.
"So… the hidden prince reveals himself," Pierre said, his voice smooth as venom. "The Southern brat finally walks without a crown… and still reeks of it."
Van stepped forward, unshaken. "I walk by choice. That's more than I can say for those who live clinging to old thrones."
A murmur spread through the room.
Pierre smiled, slow and sharp. "Spoken like a child who's never tasted true power. You gave up the one thing most mortals kill for."
"He chose freedom," Doniglao cut in, stepping beside Van. "That's worth more than anything you suck out of people's veins."
Lady Zoey tilted her head, amused. "Ah, the beast-boy speaks. Tell me, hybrid, do you gallop when afraid?"
Don's fists clenched. His golden hair shimmered faintly.
"You want to find out?"
"No," Pierre interrupted coldly. "He wouldn't last a breath. None of you would."
He turned toward Solla, who stiffened under his gaze.
"An orphan from Asya. Broken bones and broken dreams. How poetic that the Empire let you in… pity they didn't raise the bar."
Solla stepped forward, shoulders tense.
"Maybe I'm broken. But I'm still standing. And that's more than some of your victims can say."
"You speak boldly," Pierre hissed, "for someone who can't even summon a defense shield yet."
Lady Zoey added, "The four of you — the orphan, the hybrid, the runaway prince, and the servant — are fragile. Weak. Chosen too soon."
"Better fragile than soulless," Nate replied calmly.
"Enough," Van said, stepping forward. "You came to provoke us — to test our control. But we won't give you the satisfaction."
Pierre's eyes flared. "You mistake mercy for restraint. Should we test your resolve?"
The room fell silent.
Then, as if summoned by tension, King Nikolas of the North appeared — draped in ice-colored robes, his face expressionless.
"This is a place of rebirth, not rivalry."
His voice froze the heat in the air.
"If the new blood is unworthy, they will fall in time. If they endure, it is because their spirit has proven deeper than their scars."
The vampires bowed stiffly and vanished into the shadows.
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Aftermath: Doubt in the Quiet
That night, the four sat beneath a training platform beneath the stars.
"They're right," Don said, staring at his hand. "I can't even summon my full form without feeling drained. And that vampire—he moved like air."
"I still can't control my emblem," Nate added quietly. "It flickers when I'm calm. Disappears when I'm afraid."
Solla looked down. "I couldn't even keep eye contact with them."
Van, who had been quiet, finally spoke.
"We are weak," he said, matter-of-fact. "Compared to them."
They looked at him.
"But weakness isn't shameful," he continued. "It's the soil where power grows."
"Only if we survive long enough to grow it," Don muttered.
"We will," Van said. "Together."
Solla glanced up. "You sure about that?"
Van smirked. "No. But doubt hasn't stopped me yet."
A moment passed.
Then they all laughed — quietly, tiredly, but truthfully.
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A Flicker of Fire
That night, while they slept, each of them dreamed.
• Doniglao saw his hooves igniting as he charged across a burning battlefield, faster than lightning.
• Solla stood alone on a mountain, whispering to the wind—and the wind whispered back.
• Nate balanced two halves of a shattered sword and watched them fuse through light.
• Van Staden saw himself without a name, a title, or a throne—only a light inside his chest that burned like a star.
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TO BE CONTINUED…