CHAPTER 126: CHAPTER 126- ALATH’S FIRST VISIT

The sky above the Blac Mansion was clear, painted in golden orange by the setting sun. The estate, grand and proud, stood like a silent giant.

Its walls were tall, made of dark stone, and the main entrance had two lion statues on either side.

A large fountain sat in the middle of the stone courtyard, gently spraying water, as if nothing unusual was about to happen.

Several people stood just outside the massive gate—maids in neat uniforms, guards in black suits holding their positions, and at the front of them all stood two figures: an old man with a sharp white beard and calm eyes—Ermond, the butler—and beside him stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark grey coat, his hands behind his back—Raekin Blac, the head of the family.

They all looked upward.

From the sky, a man was slowly descending. He wore a long black cloak that swirled like smoke around him, his boots untouched by wind, his pale face untouched by time.

His eyes glowed faintly red, and a cruel smile sat lazily on his lips.

The maids whispered among themselves.

"Who’s that?"

"He must be another superhuman..."

"Is he floating? I think he’s floating..."

But none of them looked scared. In this age, people with supernatural powers were common. Flying, controlling fire, reading minds—none of it was surprising anymore.

Except for two.

Ermond and Raekin.

Their eyes narrowed.

They knew who this man was. A Vampire. Not just a random one, but a Messenger of the Lord, sent from the ancient lands.

As the man touched the ground, his boots made no sound. He took a deep breath, smiling coldly.

"Well well," he said, brushing imaginary dust from his cloak, "Is this how you welcome messengers now? No bows, no kneeling?"

Raekin stood still. "You received your welcome by us not shooting you down mid-air."

The vampire chuckled. "Bold words, Lord Blac. I suppose manners died with the old age."

Ermond narrowed his eyes but stayed silent.

The vampire’s gaze swept the silent servants. "No one bows? Not even a curtsy? Hm..." His smile dropped just a little. "Very well."

His red eyes moved around. He sniffed once, then said, "Too many eyes here... Let’s go to the office, shall we?"

Raekin nodded once and turned.

The group walked inside the mansion. The hallways were long, lined with paintings of ancestors and heavy curtains.

The vampire’s footsteps echoed. He looked around with clear disinterest, as though the place bored him.

They reached the office—a large room with a giant wooden desk, tall windows, and bookshelves lined with dusty volumes.

As soon as they stepped in, the vampire suddenly stopped.

He turned, placing his hands behind his back.

His eyes narrowed.

"Now kneel," he said.

His voice was sharp, loud. His pride clearly wounded.

Ermond stepped forward, face stiff with anger. "That is—"

Raekin raised his hand to stop him.

"No need, Ermond."

The vampire smirked.

Raekin stood straight, arms crossed. "Relay the message."

The vampire’s smile slowly faded. "I will. But shouldn’t you all be kneeling to receive the decree of the Lord himself?" His voice was layered with sarcasm and anger.

Raekin sighed, a deep sound filled with patience and steel.

"I am not someone who will follow formalities that go against my morals," he said. "Whether you’re a messenger or a god, I bow only to what I believe is right."

The vampire’s lips twitched.

"You mortals," he said coldly. "So stubborn."

Then he stepped forward, his cloak trailing behind.

"Fine. Then listen."

He stood tall, his voice ringing like a bell in the room.

"The Lord has given his word. Cruxius Blac is to participate in the upcoming Flag Bearer Battle. His presence has been demanded. His entry has been approved by decree. You are to send him."

Silence filled the room for a moment.

Ermond frowned.

Raekin’s eyes did not change.

"Is that all?" he asked.

The vampire paused, then leaned slightly closer. "It would be wise not to delay. The Lord does not enjoy waiting."

And with that, he turned away, cloak sweeping the ground behind him as he walked out, leaving a heavy silence behind.

Ermond looked at Raekin.

"Should we obey?"

Raekin looked out the tall window at the setting sun.

"...No."

The single word from Raekin hung in the air like a blade drawn, cold and sharp.

The vampire, just a few steps from the door, halted mid-stride. His cloak swayed before settling. Slowly, stiffly, he turned around, his eyes no longer lazy or amused.

"What did you say?" he asked, voice soft—too soft.

Raekin didn’t flinch. "I said no. Cruxius will not be sent."

A hush fell over the room. Even the distant tick of the old grandfather clock on the wall seemed to pause.

"I hope you’re joking," the vampire hissed. "Do you even understand what you’re saying? This is the Lord’s decree."

"I understood it the first time," Raekin replied, voice steady. "But that doesn’t mean I’ll follow it."

"You... dare defy a Blood Decree?"

A flash of blood-red aura danced behind the vampire’s eyes. His hands curled into fists behind his back. The air seemed to tighten, heavy like thunderclouds about to burst.

Then, before the vampire could speak further—

A new voice cut through the air like a blade of ice and fire.

"Alath Remenol Dravik—Bloodline of Cirethein, of the Nightspire Throne. Scourge of the Fourth Eclipse. Slayer of White Suns. And your executioner."

The room snapped to attention.

The vampire’s body flinched violently, his head whipping around.

Footsteps echoed down the hall.

From the open door, a figure stepped in.

Cruxius Blac.

Young. Unbothered. Hands tucked in his coat pockets. Raven-black hair, skin pale but warm, eyes obsidian and unreadable. Behind him trailed three women—human, dressed well, calm and curious, their presence strange for a moment like this.

Cruxius stopped a few steps from the vampire, not even raising his chin as he spoke again.

"As the aide and the branch family member of the Blood Moon Family... kneel, Alath."

The vampire’s eyes burned.

"You... You dare—!"