For three long nights the moon refused to show her face above the Supreme's land.
Only the ward light shimmered faintly along the edge of the dark valley — a silver wall humming with restrained power.
On the far side of that light waited the Council of Thirteen and their legions.
Tents of black and crimson stretched across the plain like a sea of blood. The air reeked of iron and burnt sage. Witches chanted low beneath the banners, their palms bleeding as they fed the runes that would crack the ward.
Inside the largest tent, the Elders argued among themselves.
Three days of waiting had stripped away their diplomacy, leaving only pride and impatience.
"He mocks us," snarled one of the hybrids, his silver eyes glowing faintly. "Three summons, no reply. Does the Supreme think himself above the Council?"
"He hides something," hissed another elder, her fingers tapping on the table carved with the ancient seals. "The whispers say he shelters the Guardian. The cursed blood."
"The Guardian is a myth," snapped a witch, though her voice wavered. "Even if it were true — such power must belong to the Council. Not to him."
Silence fell for a heartbeat. The wind outside trembled, carrying with it the faint echo of a growl.
At the ward line, William stood with his guard — a wall of black-cloaked vampires, their eyes gleaming crimson in the low light. Every breath he took tasted of ozone and tension.
He watched as the witches began to raise their staffs, dark sigils flaring in the air like jagged fireflies. The first tremor struck the ward — a pulse that rippled across the barrier, cracking faintly like glass.
William's fangs bared.
He raised his sword, voice cold.
"Stand down. You are trespassing in the Supreme's territory. Withdraw before the third strike, or this becomes war."
A witch laughed — high and bitter.
"You think you can stop the Council, hound of the prince?"
Another stepped forward, sneering. "Your master's silence is his confession. Surrender the Guardian, and perhaps we'll spare you."
William's gaze darkened to black.
"You will regret that tone when he answers you himself."
The witches smiled — a cruel, knowing smile — and lifted their hands again.
"Then let him answer," one hissed. "Let the Prince of Blood speak for his sins."
They struck the ward.
Light exploded outward, white and violent.
The ground shook.
For a moment, everything went silent — too silent.
Then the air split.
From the heart of the valley, the sound of a thousand heartbeats thundered together.
The ward flared — brighter, harder — and then parted, not broken but opened.
Through the silver mist walked Nani.
The ground itself seemed to bow beneath him. His aura bled into the air, sharp and cold — the taste of winter and blood.
Even wounded, half of his body still traced with burn marks, he moved with the ease of something ancient and untouchable.
At his back flowed a tide of shadows — wolves, massive and silent, their eyes burning with moonlight. Their fur gleamed with silver sigils drawn from ancient rites — symbols of the Moonfire Pact, unseen since the first wars.
Gasps rippled through the Council ranks.
Wolves had not stood beside vampires for a thousand years.
William knelt instantly, head bowed.
"Supreme."
Nani didn't answer. His gaze swept over the Council, and even the witches faltered under its weight.
The lead elder forced a brittle smile.
"So it's true then. You've allied with beasts."
A low growl rolled from the wolves behind him, deep and unified.
Nani's voice was calm, almost gentle.
"Beasts," he said, "have more honor than those who hide behind decrees and lies."
The words cut sharper than blades.
Another elder stepped forward, fury trembling in his veins.
"You defy the Council's order! You protect a curse that should have been purged! For that—"
"—for that," Nani interrupted, his eyes narrowing, "you stand on my soil and dare to breathe my air. You've trespassed long enough. Leave now, and live."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then the first witch spat onto the ground, raising her staff.
"You will regret this arrogance, Supreme. When this is over, not even your ashes will remain."
William's guards tensed; the wolves bristled.
The smell of ozone thickened.
The war that had been sleeping began to stir.
And as the witches' runes flared again, Nani's eyes turned to blood-red flame.
He lifted his hand slowly, and the wind howled like a living thing.
Behind him, the wolves howled in unison — the first call of the war.
---
The air thickened — heavy, electric, alive.
The witches' chanting rose in pitch. Circles of crimson light burned beneath their feet, veins of shadow writhing across the ground like serpents. The runes along the ward began to crack, hairline fractures of white lightning spreading outward from their touch.
William's blade gleamed red.
"Brace!" he barked.
The vampires and wolves shifted as one — two ancient enemies now standing shoulder to shoulder, their combined aura rolling across the field like thunder.
But Nani didn't move.
He stood a few steps before the ward, his coat drifting in the wind, one hand resting loosely at his side.
The witches screamed another incantation. Fire roared skyward — a blast of black flame that struck the barrier, splintering it like glass.
And then, before the second wave could land — he moved.
Just one flick of his wrist.
No sigil, no chant, no warning.
The world exploded in light.
The black fire folded inward and detonated.
The witches were thrown back like rag dolls, their screams drowned beneath the roar of their own magic turning against them. The earth cratered where they stood; the smell of scorched ash and blood filled the air.
Silence.
Every soldier — vampire, witch, hybrid — froze. Even the wolves' hackles lowered as if the entire forest had bowed to that power.
Nani lowered his hand slowly.
A faint, careless sigh escaped him, as though the act had cost him nothing more than mild annoyance.
"Your arrogance," he said softly, "is louder than your power."
The council ranks shifted uneasily.
Even the elders, the oldest of their kind, could feel it — the thing that lay beneath his calm, like the sea hiding a leviathan.
One witch coughed, blood on her lips, and rasped,
"He... he's not supposed to be this strong—"
The lead elder snarled, slamming his staff into the ground.
"Form the Circle! All of you!"
Twelve elders, one for each clan, stepped forward.
Their staffs flared, their blood drawn, their magic bound together. The air screamed as their combined power formed a colossal sigil — a spiral of fire and steel, black as night.
The earth trembled.
The ward cracked again.
Fissures of light spread through the air — inch by inch, the Supreme's barrier faltering under the Council's combined strength.
William raised his sword high.
"Ready yourselves!"
The wolves growled low, their eyes blazing silver.
The vampire guards lifted their blades, red aura igniting.
But Nani —
Nani simply turned his back.
He started walking slowly toward the inner line, coat billowing in the wind, as if the battle about to erupt behind him was nothing more than an inconvenience.
William blinked in disbelief.
"My Lord—?"
"Hold the line," Nani said without looking back. His voice was quiet, steady, but it carried like thunder across the field.
"They will come. Let them. The moment they cross my ward, they will understand."
And with that, he disappeared into the mist — leaving behind the weight of his power like a burning brand on the air.
The ground beneath the ward pulsed once, twice — then the cracks began to bleed light.
William exhaled through his teeth, tightening his grip on his sword.
"All units," he growled, voice dark and resolute, "prepare for impact."
The wolves lifted their heads.
The vampires lowered their stances.
A single breath held between both sides — the world trembling on its axis.
Then the first fracture split the ward.
And the war began to breathe.
---
The moment the ward fractured, the world roared.
A shattering boom cracked across the field — air ripping open like glass under pressure. The first layer of the Supreme's barrier fell in shards of white fire. From beyond the light, the Council's army surged forward — hundreds of them, blades drawn, spells igniting, boots thundering against the broken ground.
"Hold the line!" William's voice tore through the chaos.
Red aura erupted around him, flaring like a sun dragged through blood.
The wolves answered his command first — their howls slicing the air. The vampires moved next, silent, deadly, their speed blurring into streaks of black and silver.
The two sides collided — thunder meeting thunder.
Blades screamed. Teeth tore.
Magic burned the night to daylight.
A witch lunged from the flank, chains of cursed fire coiling around William's arm.
He twisted, breaking them apart with a violent snap — and drove his sword through her chest.
Her body disintegrated before it hit the ground.
He didn't stop moving.
Another elder sent a wave of gravity magic, the ground crushing inward — but William vanished, reappearing behind him in a blur of speed. His sigil blazed across his skin, ancient runes pulsing from his collarbone to his ribcage.
House Hirunkit.
Bloodline of war.
The right hand of the Prince.
His blade sang, cutting through the elder's defenses. Sparks exploded like a meteor shower as metal met pure energy — then with one final strike, William's sword pierced through the elder's ward and into his side.
The elder screamed, blood burning black.
William ripped his sword free and turned, voice like iron.
"Next."
A dozen soldiers rushed him.
He moved through them like a storm — each swing deliberate, each kill efficient.
He didn't waste movement, didn't waste breath.
But still... they kept coming.
The Council army was endless. Hybrids, witches, vampires drunk on borrowed power. Each time one fell, two more took their place.
A wolf warrior was thrown across the field, slamming into the ground beside him. William caught him before he could fall again, whispering an ancient word — a red sigil flared, closing the wolf's wound for a moment.
"Back to formation!"
The wolf nodded weakly, shifting back into the fray.
Above them, the air exploded — lightning raining down from the witches' ranks.
William raised his sword — the sigils on his arms flaring bright crimson.
A shield of red energy burst upward, splitting the lightning in two. The impact burned through his skin, tearing his coat, revealing the marks that crawled like molten script across his chest.
He gritted his teeth, blood dripping down his chin.
"Not yet..."
A horn echoed — deep, ancient, the sound of command.
The Council's second wave entered the field.
Hundreds more.
William's eyes flicked to the horizon.
He could see it — the faint shimmer of the inner ward, still intact for now, glowing faintly blue under the rising moon.
He couldn't let them reach it.
"Fall back to the ridge!" he shouted. "Form two lines! Defend the inner gate!"
The wolves shifted, snarling as they tore into soldiers.
The vampires regrouped behind William, their eyes blazing crimson.
A hybrid charged — a monstrous creature of mixed blood, claws dripping acid. William caught its arm mid-swipe, twisted, and broke it cleanly before driving his blade upward through its throat. The blood hissed on contact with his skin, burning him. He ignored it.
Then — a scream.
One of the elders stepped forward, eyes glowing with fury.
"You dare stand against the Council, boy?"
William's gaze met his — sharp, cold, unflinching.
"I'm no boy," he said, voice low. "I'm the blade that guards his throne."
The elder raised his staff — the sky turned black.
A storm of spectral chains came down, wrapping around William.
He fell to one knee, blood streaking his face — and then his sigil blazed brighter, too bright to look at.
The chains snapped.
In one fluid motion, William rose and slashed the air.
The wave of his power split the battlefield — a crimson arc that tore through soldiers, earth, and spell alike. The shockwave blew outward, scattering both armies momentarily.
Even the elders faltered.
But there were too many.
The ground trembled again — a surge of witches casting as one. A colossal burst of energy slammed into the field, flinging wolves and vampires backward.
William hit the ground hard, coughing blood, forcing himself upright.
He looked around. The first line was gone. The second was breaking.
The Council soldiers began to advance again, their numbers overwhelming.
The ward of the inner layer — visible now, pulsing faintly like a dying heartbeat — began to flicker.
William's vision blurred, but he kept his blade up.
"Not here," he rasped, voice raw. "You will not pass here."
Behind him, the wolves rose again, snarling, bloodied but unbroken.
The vampire guards formed up beside him, battered but resolute.
The last of the outer ward shattered with a deafening crack —
and the Council army began to pour through like a flood.
The field drowned in light and blood.
William spat crimson onto the ground, lifted his sword once more, and whispered beneath his breath,
"Forgive me, my Lord. I'll hold until you arrive."
The wind howled through the battlefield, carrying the scent of fire and ash.
And as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, the army of the Council reached the second line.
The war had come to the gates of the Supreme.