By: Daalaas
Sunlight peeked through the windows, casting a warm glow into the dimly lit room. A young man, Vanitas had sat in a chair beside his bed, then a girl resting on his bed, instead of him. She was
Theresa.
The aftermath of assassination attempt still lingered around.
"..."
A movement from the bed, Theresa jolted with widening eyes as her mind scrambled to process what had happened before she lost her consciousness. Instinctively, she reached for her dagger, only to find it missing. A flicker of panic crossed over her face as she tried to recall the last thing she saw.
It was Vanitas gaze, not a simple gaze but a terrifying and merciless.
"Don't try anything, or else your head will fly."
A solemn voice drifted from the shadows, sending a chill through her spine.
Who?
Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain composed. She steadied her breathing as she spoke with a measured tone.
"Who might you be?"
She asked. But only a silence went back to her, it terrifies her.
But before she completely feel the fear and for a second time to faint.
"Vanitas' sister."
From the corner of the room where sunlight had yet to reach, a figure stepped forward. She moved with eerie grace, her figure shrouded in a black cloak. A mask concealing her face--one carved into the likeness of a grinning skull, its wide, hollow laughter frozen in place.
A laughing Skull mask?!
Theresa's mind raced.
"You may have placed a cut on my brother's cute little face…" her voice was calm, yet it was carried
with a menacing and intent to kill Theresa. "But if you try again… Von Aspen Clan, your family will perished from this kingdom."
And just like that, she disappeared, vanishing as soon as the morning light reached her shadowed corner.
Cold sweat trickled down Theresa's temple. She stared at the empty space where the woman had stood, struggling to steady her breathing.
The Laughing Skull…
There were a few faction in the kingdom. Each of these faction had ability to dismantle one clan, not only that each individual who were part of this faction had ability to destroy one lower rank clan.
3 years ago a woman wearing a Skull Mask, similar to that mask as the woman she had met. She destroyed many lower clan in just a night because of their corruptions. It said that her strength could be compared to one of the patriarch of a high Clan.
Thinking about that made Theresa clenched her hand into fists.
I need to be careful…
Even though Vanitas remained fast asleep, she knew she couldn't make a reckless move. One mistake, and it wouldn't be just end of her life, but also her entire clan will go down with her.
Suddenly, a voice surprised Theresa.
"Good morning."
Theresa jumped out from the bed snapping her head towards to Vanitas, who sitting comfortably in his chair.
"G-good morning… Young Master," she changed the way she speak, suddenly formal.
Vanitas who just heard Theresa's formal speaking, arched his eyebrow, amused by her change in demeanor. Before he could say anything. She bolted out from the room, not even sparing a second glance.
Vanitas didn't mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, drawn instead to the lingering presence in the shadows.
"It's you, isn't it?" he didn't bother turning around. "You don't need to interfere. I can handle things on my own way."
A soft rustling of fabric followed. From the shadows, the woman reappeared, lowering her hood and removing her mask on her face.
A pale, porcelain skin caught the sunlight. Silver hair cascaded down her back, identical to his own. But her deep purple eyes carried an intensity that set her apart.
"This is my duty," she stated simply.
But Vanitas just sighed.
"I know. But you don't have to go around and calling me your little brother… even though I'm not."
Silence.
She stepped forward into his view, while her expression is unreadable.
Then, with a practice and fluid grace, she knelt before him, letting her left knee to kissed the floor.
While her gaze never lifted from the floor.
"I apologize, Young Master," she said. "I have come to report--we have captured the two assassins
who attempted to take your life last night."
Vanitas stood, stepping closer to her.
"Bianca… what about the research mission I've assigned to you?"
She lift her gaze as Vanitas asked a question, and then nodded.
"It is completed, young master. With the initiation of the Lost Lion trial, I had one of my subordinates prepared a detailed map of the lost civilization."
Her voice was measured, deliberate. There was no sign of hesitation even wavering.
Vanitas faintly smiled. "Good."
Just as he expected. Everything was set on the way for him.
***
After the incident of attempt of killing Vanitas, He was granted access various chambers to trained his body, archery hall, sword arena, and library dedicated to study magic in case he can protect himself from a similar incident avoiding the death of the youngest son of Leywin clan.
He spent everyday he had locked in every room. He focused his the body training while studying about magic, while doing a push ups, he was reading a book theory magic book about the root of magic.
After finishing his intense routine for his body, he went to the archery hall, but he didn't pick up a bow, instead he used the handgun he have and practice his accuracy form various ranges.
Nevertheless, these training was only a mare branch of his preparation on the path he chose to pursue. From a young age he a child who learned how to read before learning how to walk. Because of his stepmother, he never received such a so called love from his parents, he know nothing other than reading a books. This was the intention of his step-mother. Rotting him away and when the time comes she can get rid Vanitas from the clan easily.
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Then month had passed very quickly. Vanitas had tone up his physique in a unnoticeable state. He also learned Various of Magic, such a magic called null, along with that he also practiced of using the null magic learning that I can be a various type of magic, just like his basic barrier. But when it had a null magic he was able to increase the thickness of it.
His mana reserves which an energy generated when converting stamina to mana, also had increased.
Now… My 18th birthday.
His celebration was like nothing at all, there was no guests, gifts for him, just him prepared everything he packed on. Foods, spare clothes, daggers and small knives, he placed his gun to his left waist and a long black cloak that could be use as his blanket when it comes to night.
On that day, his step-mother with the same as usual indifferent expression on her face. Watch upon him leaving the manor, while besides her 3 children mockingly laughing at Vanitas, as if they know that Vanitas wouldn't achieve nothing but only a death.
Vanitas didn't care about it anything at all, even if there was his father, he would only give him a cold gaze as he leave.
But none of it mattered.
Because of his detached relationship with the people inside the manor, he felt no pressure, no emotional burden weighing on his shoulder. He had already set his sights on something far beyond they can see. His first step was have done.
"Survival while getting stronger inside the hell was really exhausting," he muttered before continuing walking forward to the next phase of his journey.
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A few hours had passed, he was so far away from the Leywin Manor almost he was like an ant on his distance from the Manor. In front of him a huge forest known as the Forest of Phantom. Because of the incident 80 years ago about thousands of soldier from the kingdom disappeared without a trace.
However, the map was precise and going through is only a option to reach the first destination through to the Lost Civilization.
On his way, a towering silhouette of an ancient Melchior tree loomed in the distance. Its massive trunk stretched high, its thick branches swallowing the sunlight, casting deep shadows upon the forest floor.
And from the shadows, tree figures emerged.
"""Happy 18th Birthday, Young master! !"""
Their voices rang out in perfect sync, their heads bowed low in reverence before his figure.
They were his three trusted people.
Though he barely acknowledge the sentiment, he was still happy because of these three. But his mind was focused on his path, and quickly pulled away his feelings.
"In three weeks, I'll be heading to the Capital Mellios," he stated plainly. "While I'm away, I'll be searching for the lost civilization… looking for any trace of the… Vampires."
"As per your request, Young master, we have withdrawn our men from accompanying you on this journey," said by the man wrapped in bandages, while he remained steady and unwavering.
Then, he shifted his gaze to the woman who had a silver hair.
"Bianca."
The woman lifted her face to meet Vanitas.
"Yes, young master?" she asked.
"Execute the plan I gave to you," he ordered his tone as cold as steel.
"Considered it done, Young master," a slow grin spread across Bianca's lips.
Then Vanitas shifted his gaze to the last of three. "Artela, I thought I've said to you not to come?"
The woman with long emerald-green hair lifted her graceful face, her striking beauty only enhanced by the confidence in her eyes.
"My apologize, young master," she said smoothly. "But my desire to see your face was overwhelming that I couldn't hold myself."
Vanitas let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, his gaze remaining steady.
"I see…" he replied, with a flat tone, thought there was a flicker beneath it--a quiet amusement, perhaps? It was hard to tell, but his expression betrayed little.
"By the way, Artela." he asked, breaking the momentarily silence.
Artela quickly lifted up her face and looked upon on Vanitas once again and immediately answered.
"Yes!"
"Thanks for the handgun."
At that, Artela froze, her graceful figure momentarily locked in stillness. She blinked, as though the words hadn't quite registered at first. It was almost imperceptible, but in that brief pause, a flicker of surprise crossed her features, it was a rare vulnerability, quickly hidden behind a composed mask.
But just as quickly as she froze, she recovered. She drew a small leather bag from within the folds of her coat and handed it to Vanitas, her fingers brushing the edges of the bag with care.
"It's a gift, of sorts," Artela said, her voice taking on a more serious note as she spoke. " 200 bullets, made from Maore."
She watched Vanitas closely while he examined the bundle on his hand, her eyes were glinting with quiet pride. The bullets themselves were a work of art, a sleek, metallic and imbued with a faint of mana.
Maore…
Vanitas thought to himself.
Maore was a rare ore, used to craft only the finest magical swords, and its presence in the bullets made them something of a rarity themselves. They were worth more than most people would ever be able to afford, but she had made them herself.
200 Bullets made from… maore.
The thought lingered for a moment. To think she had created all of them, one by one. He allowed himself a faint smile, it was a brief moment of warmth that reached his eyes, though he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.
"Impressive," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
But then, just as quickly, he turned away. The moment passed like the briefest of glimmers, and he was once again wrapped in his usual aura of quiet detachment. He didn't say anything further, but the soft weight of the words he hadn't spoken hung in the air between them.
Artela, left in his wake, watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. She said nothing, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips—a smile that hinted at something far deeper than mere politeness.
As Vanitas walked away, the silence between them lingered, thick with unspoken understanding.
"I love you, Young Master."
Artela's voice was barely a whisper, fragile yet unwavering. Her delicate fingers trembled as she clutched the fabric of her cloak, her gaze lingering on the figure disappearing into the distance.
"YoungMaster...pleasebesafe."
Bianca stood in silence, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. The wind brushed against her pale cheeks, carrying away the warmth of her unspoken plea. She had been saved once before, pulled back from the brink of death—was this how it felt to watch someone else slip away?
"Letmeserveyou,letmestandbyyourside...untilthedayyougraspyourdreamwithyourown hands."
Alfred tightened his grip on his left hand, his knuckles turning white. He had lived long enough to witness the fickle nature of fate. His loyalty was not born from duty alone but from something deeper, something carved into the very core of his being.
And yet, as they watched Vanitas walk away, none of them moved. Vanitas himself did not look back. He felt their gazes on his back, heavy with emotion, with devotion.
While he was getting further to them, his mind to drift to the days when their paths had first intertwined.
March 14—rain poured endlessly, drenching the broken girl he had found on the steps of an abandoned shrine coincidentally she was also abandoned. Artela, small and shivering, her eyes filled with quiet resolve even as she whispered his name for the first time.
June 18—Bianca, crumpled on the cold earth, her breath shallow, her body marred with wounds. She had been so close to death, yet the fire in her eyes had refused to be extinguished. He had reached out, and she had clung to life.
December 29—Alfred, rotting but still breathing, his voice hollow yet steadfast. His body had already given up, but his spirit had not. Even as he lay on the brink of death, he had sworn himself to Vanitas.
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Finally, Vanitas stood before the entrance of the ForestofPhantoms.
The cool breeze whispered through the towering trees, rustling the leaves above. The air carried a distant scent of damp earth, tinged with something eerie--an almost metallic tang that sent a faint chill down to his spine. Shadows stretched long and restless, twisting between the gnarled roots silent sentinels.
The world was vast. Empty.
Yet, he remained composed, unmoved by solitude.
Reaching into his cloak, he retrieved a tightly rolled-up map—the one Bianca's subordinates had painstakingly prepared. With a practiced flick, he unfurled it, his sharp eyes scanning the intricate markings. Every path, every landmark, had already been committed to memory, yet he traced the route ahead as if reaffirming his conviction.
"Northeast High Plain... at the end of the ForestofPhantoms." His voice muttered, the words dissolving into the cold night air.
His right hand tightened around his left wrist as he adjusted his gloves, pulling them snugly into place.
A familiar ritual. A silent promise.
This was it.
The journey he had spent years preparing for had finally begun.
****
"What's happening?"
The path ahead was supposed to be straightforward. Vanitas had planned every step, accounting for every variable. And yet—
Something was wrong.
As he ventured deeper into the forest leading toward the Northeast High Plain, an unsettling shift took place. The once-familiar surroundings grew darker, the dense canopy above blotting out the sunlight. The towering trees, once vibrant and full of life, now stood twisted and gnarled, their bark peeling like decaying flesh. An eerie mist slithered across the ground, curling around his boots and thickening with every step.
The silence became deafening. Not a single bird chirped. Not a single insect hummed. It was as if the entire forest had been swallowed by an unnatural void.
Vanitas remained calm. His mind stayed sharp, assessing the change in his surroundings with cold precision.
Then, in the blink of an eye—
The solid earth beneath his feet was gone.
The ground had shifted, morphing beneath him in an instant. One moment, he was treading on damp forest soil—the next, his boots pressed against wet sand.
His gaze lifted.
Before him stretched an endless shore, the vast ocean reflecting an eerie silver under a sky that no longer resembled the one he had seen moments ago.
Vanitas exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
"So… this is how it begins."
Clang!
Metal clashed against metal as Vanitas swiftly drew his dagger, intercepting the sudden strike of an unknown assailant. His movements were precise, effortless—as if he had expected the attack. His expression remained unreadable, not even the slightest hint of panic or surprise crossing his face.
Instead, he used the moment to assess his surroundings.
The vast shore stretched endlessly before him, silver waves lapping at the sand under an unfamiliar sky. Distant mountains loomed in the background, their jagged peaks piercing through the mist.
Illusion?
No. This was far too elaborate. An illusion couldn't replicate an entire landscape with such tangible
detail.
An island…
His mind pieced the answer together.
No. A Realm.
A Realm—a space created by beings powerful enough to bend reality itself. These realms existed outside conventional geography, forming isolated territories detached from the real world. Only two kinds of beings could craft such places: HumansandMythicalCreatures.
Considering where he had been moments ago—the depths of a forest—the most likely culprit was a Fairy.
So, they trapped me here...
"Damn…" Vanitas muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Without hesitation, he shifted his grip from a standard hammer style to a reverse grip, positioning the dagger's edge outward. This tactical adjustment allowed for greater control over his opponent's movements. As the assailant, relying on brute strength, struck, Vanitas sidestepped, using his opponent's momentum against them. With a calculated redirection of force, he guided the attacker downward, causing them to lose balance and stumble, gaining the upper hand.
In the same fluid motion, Vanitas' dagger struck.
A clean, precise thrust across the nape.
The body went still.
Leaning in slightly, Vanitas whispered, "That should've severed your nerves. Surely, you're dead now?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned his gaze toward the distant mountains, his mind already working through his next move.
"Let's play..." Vanitas murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled his dagger free from the attacker's nape.
He wiped the blade clean against the fallen figure's clothes—only for the body to disintegrate into ashes before his eyes.
Vanitas raised an eyebrow.
"Well, that's new," he muttered, sarcasm lacing his tone.
With no further interest in the remains, he turned his attention toward the mountainous terrain ahead. The jagged cliffs loomed ominously, their peaks shrouded in mist, as if concealing something beyond mere rock and stone.
Unfazed, he pressed forward.
However, what lay within this realm was far beyond anything he had anticipated.
Tobecontinued…