Not blood? Of course I knew it. What else can anyone expect from that vile man?
I'd had enough of his games. I walked out of the chamber, every step cutting through the silence. I had better things to do than feed his bloody ego and endless strategies.
But something felt off.
My instincts prickled, and I slowed down deliberately, scanning my surroundings.
What was it?
Who could it be?
Before I could figure it out, I heard footsteps behind me.
I didn't even need to turn to know who it was—and I couldn't be bothered to waste another breath on him.
Without looking back, I made my way toward the other side of the forest.
Few would dare to venture this deep—fewer still knew what lay beyond.
Hidden beneath the thick canopy stood an old warehouse registered under my name, officially marked as restricted for maintenance and storage. In truth, it was far from ordinary.
This was my base—where my army trained, planned, and built the kind of power the world wasn't meant to see.
Every man here was handpicked by me—strong, ruthless, fearless. And above all, loyal only to me.
To the world, I am the Chairman of one of the most successful companies in the country.
My employees are seen as ordinary white-collared professionals.
But beneath that carefully woven pretext hides another identity—one forged in shadows, bound by loyalty, and trained for war.
As I entered the chamber, the familiar hum of machines and faint scent of metal filled the air.
In the centre stood the prototype of Vasuki—its body incomplete, yet already exuding a quiet arrogance, as if aware of what it was destined to become.
My team was still running tests, fine-tuning its system, ensuring every mechanism responded only to me.
We were close—so close—to perfection. Everything was proceeding as planned.
The warehouse lay hidden deep on the other side of the forest, a place strictly off-limits to outsiders. Officially, it was registered under my company's name—an ordinary research and development unit. In truth, it was my training base and the birthplace of Vasuki.
By the time I finished overseeing the tests, the forest had grown dark and silent, broken only by the distant hum of machinery.
I left soon after, taking the private trail that led toward the coast. The air grew heavier with the scent of salt as the trees thinned, giving way to the open expanse of sea.
My cottage stood near the seashore—a quiet shelter away from the noise of men and machines. From here, I could see the waves crashing endlessly against the rocks, their rhythm both soothing and tormenting.
After a long and exhausting day, I collapsed on the bed, letting the darkness take me.
The rhythmic crash of waves filled the silent room, a haunting lullaby that did nothing to quiet the storm inside me. My body twisted in bed, sweat clinging to my skin as whispers from the past clawed at my mind. The same nightmare. The same unbearable memory.
I jolted awake, breath heavy, the echoes of that night still burning behind my closed eyelids. From my cottage, I could see the outline of the Forbidden Land, faint under the dying night sky.
People fear that place—no one who has entered has ever returned. They say it is guarded by a spiritual force, a beast awakened by the death of its last queen.
They believe the myths.
I lived through the truth.
That night is carved into my bones—the stench of burning flesh, the sky blackened with smoke, the ground drenched in blood. And in the middle of it all—her. The queen of that cursed land. My mother.
I still see her standing tall, unbroken even as the fire devoured her world. I was just a child, watching the only light in my life fade before my eyes. Before the flames claimed her, she made me promise one thing—
"Never harm the innocent."
A lie. A foolish lie I tell myself every time I stain my hands with blood.
Just as I sank back into silence, a faint sound caught my attention—a shadow at the window. A messenger.
He dropped a sealed file onto my desk and vanished into the dark.
I flipped it open.
My spies had done their job well.
"This fucking bastard…" I muttered under my breath, the fire returning to my eyes.