The city slept under a curtain of rain.
But in the forgotten parts — where the old world still breathed beneath concrete and glass — something else moved.
Creatures.
Half-bloods. Rogues. Things that shouldn't exist.
And tonight, they'd chosen to hunt too close to his domain.
---
The Abandoned Warehouse, Dockside
The smell of blood lingered like smoke.
Half a dozen bodies — vampires and humans — lay scattered across the floor. Torn. Burned.
Whatever did this hadn't been clean about it.
The air trembled.
Then the shadows shifted — bending, folding, retreating — as he arrived.
Nani Hirunkit.
No entourage. No guards.
Just the Supreme himself, walking through the ruins with the unhurried grace of someone who didn't need protection.
William waited near the entrance, head bowed slightly. "We cleared the perimeter. Survivors—none. Whatever it was, it fed on both sides."
"A hybrid?" Nani asked quietly.
"Unlikely. The wounds are… strange. Not claw, not fang. Burn marks on the inside."
Nani crouched beside a body — a female vampire. The skin was gray, veins blackened as if scorched from within.
He pressed two fingers to the corpse's neck, closing his eyes.
For a moment, silence.
Then his voice — low, ancient — slipped through the room like wind through glass.
A whisper of power.
The blood pooled on the ground began to move.
It rose in slow ribbons, coiling in the air like smoke, drawn toward his hand.
When he opened his eyes again, they burned red — not the shallow crimson of common vampires, but the deep scarlet of pure blood.
"Show me," he commanded.
The blood obeyed. It shivered, then burst into mist — replaying the memory of death.
Screams echoed faintly. Shadows twisting.
A creature — tall, skeletal, with eyes that burned white — lunged through the vision, tearing through both vampire and human alike.
Then, faintly, a howl.
Low. Familiar.
Nani's eyes flickered. "Wolf scent."
William stiffened. "The rogues?"
"No," Nani said slowly. "Older. Cleaner. Almost royal."
He stood, releasing the blood. It fell to the floor like rain, silent and final.
"The Guardian's line," he murmured. "They're awake."
William hesitated. "The rumors, then… about Wongravee—"
"Rumors rarely outlive their truth," Nani said softly.
He turned his gaze toward the shattered window, the moon veiled behind clouds.
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his aura — a ripple through the calm.
When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of centuries.
"If the Guardian truly walks again, then so does the curse. And that means balance will break."
---
Moments Later
Est appeared at the door, soaked from rain, holding an umbrella he clearly wasn't using for himself.
"You know, you could've let the Council handle this," he said, wrinkling his nose at the scene. "This is more 'crime scene' than 'date night.'"
Nani glanced at him. "The Council moves too slow. The city bleeds while they deliberate."
Est sighed. "Still, your idea of self-care is terrifying."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"William told me about the rumors. You think it's really them? The Guardian's bloodline?"
Nani didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted to the ceiling — to the faint hum of moonlight seeping through the clouds.
"It shouldn't be possible," he said finally. "The curse should have sealed with their deaths."
Est tilted his head. "And yet here you are, feeling restless for the first time in a century."
Nani's lips curved faintly — not quite a smile, not quite denial.
"Perhaps," he murmured. "Or perhaps fate has grown bored again."
He began walking toward the exit, his long coat brushing through the blood mist without a mark.
William followed. "My lord, should we pursue the creature?"
"Yes," Nani said. "But quietly. If the Guardian lives… I'll find him myself."
As he stepped into the rain, lightning split the sky — and for a moment, the reflection in the puddle showed not a man, but a monster cloaked in shadow and flame.
The Supreme Vampire.
The Blood that Commands.
The King who forgot how to die.
----
The storm outside deepened; thunder rolled over the city like the growl of something ancient waking.
By the time Nani and his entourage reached the old cathedral beneath the docks—the Council's temporary chamber—the scent of fear already filled the air.
Half a dozen elders waited inside, their faces lit by the red glow of rune-lamps.
They bowed, but not all the way. One of them, Elder Karn, didn't bother to hide his irritation.
"My Lord, with respect, you should not involve yourself in street matters. It demeans the Throne."
Nani's steps were slow, measured. Each one echoed like a heartbeat against the stone floor.
"When rogues feed on both my kind and humans, it becomes the Throne's matter."
Karn's lip curled. "Perhaps if you delegated instead of playing hero—"
He didn't finish.
The air froze.
Literally.
Every particle of moisture in the room crystallized mid-breath, falling as diamond dust. The runes dimmed, their light consumed by something deeper.
Nani turned his head slightly, eyes now a clear, burning crimson.
"You forget your place."
Karn's knees hit the floor before he could blink.
His body shook, pinned by an invisible force; shadows coiled around his throat like smoke given purpose. The other elders bowed lower, not daring to move.
"I built this order from the ashes of your ancestors," Nani said quietly. "Do not mistake my patience for permission."
He released him. The shadows vanished, air rushing back like the cathedral itself exhaled. Karn coughed, blood bright against his lips, and didn't raise his head again.
Est muttered from the back, half to himself, "And people wonder why I don't argue with him before coffee."
Nani's gaze shifted toward the far archway, head tilting slightly.
Something else had entered the cathedral—wrong, thin, hungry.
A low hiss slithered through the dark.
The creature stepped into the torchlight—skeletal, pale as bone, its veins glowing white-blue beneath translucent flesh. Its mouth split too wide, dripping light instead of blood.
William drew a blade in one fluid motion. Est reached for his spell rings. But Nani only rolled his sleeves up, expression almost bored.
"No," he said. "This one is mine."
The creature lunged.
For an instant, it moved faster than thought.
But Nani moved faster still.
He didn't blur or vanish; he simply wasn't there, and then he was—hand around the creature's throat, slamming it into the marble so hard the floor cracked like ice.
It shrieked, claws scraping at him. The noise made the elders cover their ears, but Nani's face didn't change.
He whispered a word older than language.
The creature convulsed. Its body twisted, blood turning to steam.
Nani's eyes flared—the red deepened to black edged with gold.
The rune-lamps shattered, light drawn into him like water down a drain.
"You dare feed on what is mine?" he said softly, almost curious.
The creature struck again; Nani caught the blow mid-air, turned its wrist, and with a flick sent it crashing through a column.
Stone dust filled the air.
He stepped through it like a shadow cutting fog.
The creature tried to crawl away. It managed one glance up at him—at the calm, immaculate figure standing over it—before his hand pierced its chest.
The scream that followed wasn't sound. It was light.
Every window exploded outward as the thing dissolved into ash and white fire.
When it was over, silence fell again.
The only movement was the slow drift of glowing dust settling on Nani's coat.
He looked at his palm—the faintest trace of silver blood on his skin—and frowned.
"This isn't rogue blood," he murmured. "It's tainted. Made."
William stepped closer. "Made? By whom?"
Nani's expression darkened. "Someone who remembers the old curse."
He turned toward the elders, who were still kneeling, heads bowed in terror.
"Find out who is crafting these abominations," he ordered. "And if any of you dare defy me again—"
his eyes flicked briefly to Karn,
"—you'll wish the creature had found you first."
He swept past them, coat whispering against the stone.
Outside, thunder cracked again, and for a moment lightning painted his silhouette across the cathedral doors—wings of shadow unfurling behind him.
The Supreme Vampire walked into the storm, and the world itself seemed to bow.
---
The rain had eased into a thin mist, drifting over the city like breath over glass.
Far below, the sirens wailed, neon lights reflecting in puddles that glowed red and blue — the pulse of the mortal world that never slept.
High above it all, Nani Hirunkit stood on the rooftop of his tower, the wind pulling at his coat, silver threads of hair glinting against the night.
The moon hid behind the clouds, yet its pull was there — faint, familiar, relentless.
He wiped a trace of silver blood from his fingers. It evaporated instantly, leaving no stain.
Still, the scent lingered in his mind.
Not rogue. Not human. Not entirely wolf.
He closed his eyes, the memory of that brief encounter replaying with unnerving clarity.
The soldier in the hallway.
The one with the steady heartbeat and the eyes like a storm about to break.
A wolf — yes.
But something else beneath that. Something older.
He'd tried to mask his scent, that one. Spells, herbs, even witchcraft woven into his pulse.
Crude… but clever.
And bold enough to stand before him — before the Supreme — without trembling, without bowing, without fear.
Nani exhaled, a quiet, humorless breath.
"Brave little wolf," he murmured to the wind. "You almost fooled me."
He should have dismissed it there.
He had centuries of reasons not to care — emotions dulled long ago, burned away by time and power.
But when they collided, for a heartbeat — just one — something ancient inside him had stirred.
A sound, like the whisper of the curse itself, echoed through his thoughts.
Until the Blood and Moon unite by fate, not choice…
He turned his gaze toward the clouds, where the moon struggled to break free of the storm.
Its faint light touched his face, and for the briefest instant, his chest ached — not with pain, but with memory.
"Impossible," he said softly. "That line should be long dead."
Yet the scent had been there — warm, alive, threaded with something that tasted of moonlight and defiance.
Behind him, William's voice came quietly through the comm.
"My Lord, the Council awaits for your order."
"Let them wait," Nani replied.
He lingered a moment longer, eyes tracing the skyline as if searching for a ghost.
Far away, beneath the same clouded moon, a wolf nursed his healing wound — the blood of both curse and fate humming quietly under his skin.
The storm between them had already begun to turn.