Blood projectiles tore through the air, sharp and precise as they homed in on Angel.
"Tch!" he clicked his tongue, narrowly dodging one that grazed his cheek. The crimson spear in his hand whipped through the air, deflecting several more.
His stance was solid, but the barrage was relentless.
"I applaud your reflexes," Latisha called mockingly, her red eyes glinting with amusement. "But let's test your control instead."
"What?" Angel looked down in confusion.
His blood spear trembled in his grasp. A moment later, it rippled unnaturally, liquefying and dripping between his fingers.
"That was possible?" he muttered, astonished.
Latisha chuckled, brushing her silvery hair behind her ear. "As I thought. You may be a pureblood, but you're still raw. I never expected someone like you to best me."
A loud, echoing howl broke through the sky. Both students froze. Above them, a massive spectral wolf illuminated the clouds.
"Someone found the Wolf Faction's hidden key…" Angel whispered, gaze drawn skyward.
Latisha took the opportunity. "You shouldn't have gotten distracted."
Angel turned too late.
"For a pureblood, you sure are disappointing," she said with a smirk. With a firm grip on the golden key she'd claimed, a beam of light enveloped her form.
Then she vanished.
"Damn it!" Angel hissed, slamming his fist against a nearby tree. He dropped to the ground, frustration simmering in his chest.
He sat in silence for a few minutes, catching his breath. Then—he caught it.
A scent.
It wasn't just blood. It was familiar. A memory. A call.
"What is this…?" he whispered, standing.
Driven by instinct, Angel sprinted through the forest, the thick foliage clawing at his uniform. The scent grew stronger, leading him deeper into the woods, away from the academy's main paths.
Finally, he stopped before a mansion—elegant, ancient, and hauntingly familiar.
"This place… It's where I met Sir Malachi."
He reached for the handle. The door creaked open.
Unlike the decrepit ruin he remembered from Japan, this version of the mansion was pristine. The scent of old wood and lavender hung faintly in the air. Ornate chandeliers glowed dimly above, and polished floors reflected his image back at him.
---
Inside the academy's control center, a grand chamber filled with arcane devices and enchanted monitors, the four faction representatives watched the unfolding chaos.
On a large crystal screen, the glowing wolf in the sky was displayed.
"A Wolf has claimed our hidden key!" Edan grinned, howling proudly.
"The other hidden keys will be claimed in time," Evander said calmly, brushing golden strands from his face. "But the vampire faction's hidden key remains untouched."
Maria leaned forward, her brows furrowed. "Why did they have to place it outside our surveillance range? I can't monitor that forest!"
"It's not up to us," Theodore replied, arms crossed. "The hidden keys are the relics of our Founding Ancestors. The keys choose their bearers, not us."
Evander nodded in agreement. "Even if we possessed them, the doors would not open unless the rightful wielder stood before them. That is the Ancestors' law."
Maria sighed. "Still, this uncertainty makes me uneasy."
Theodore's gaze never left the screen showing the mansion hidden in the forest.
"Let's just see who proves worthy," he said. "Even if it's someone outside our faction, they'll have earned it."
---
Inside the mansion, Angel walked slowly through its pristine halls, following the trail of scent and memory.
Each step seemed to pull him into a vision of the past.
Laughter.
Music.
Joy.
He blinked—and the hallway shimmered.
In a sudden flash of memory not his own, he saw servants bustling about the mansion with smiles on their faces. Maids in lace uniforms, butlers in fine suits. All of them content. All of them devoted.
At the head of it all was a man: regal, composed, powerful—Cain, the Blood Lord.
Angel stood silent as the memory played out.
From the corridor, a boy approached—young Malachi, no older than thirteen.
"Brother!" Malachi called out, tugging at Cain's sleeve. "It's my birthday today. You didn't forget, did you?"
Cain chuckled warmly, eyes soft. "Of course not. How could I forget my little brother's birthday?"
"Come on! You promised me a gift!"
"Follow me to my room," Cain said, ruffling Malachi's hair.
Angel blinked, the memory dissolving into mist. But he had a direction now. He followed the path the memory left behind, deeper into the mansion.
Then—
His instincts screamed.
At the end of the hallway stood a statue.
A tall, ghastly figure clad in crimson-black armor, twisted like a nightmarish knight. Its face, hidden beneath a demonic helm, radiated malevolence.
It didn't move. But it didn't need to.
Angel felt the malice dripping from it like venom.
"I knew this was too peaceful," he muttered, taking a defensive stance.
He raised his hand. Using the edge of his ring, he pricked his middle finger. Blood droplets hovered behind him, sharp and ready.
With a flick of his wrist, the projectiles launched toward the statue.
But before they could hit—
Shatter.
Every light in the hallway exploded, plunging the mansion into pitch black.
From the darkness, two glowing crimson eyes opened.
Angel smirked, nerves tingling.
"So you're not just decoration."
He activated his Crimson Eyes. Pain surged through his skull as his vision shifted. The lust for blood roared in his chest, but he forced it down with sheer will.
From the dark, the statue moved.
It lunged.
Angel dodged just in time, golden claws swiping inches from his face.
He retaliated, sending more projectiles toward the beast. The ghoul raised its arms to shield itself, letting the blood blades slice across its limbs and torso.
"If you're going to cower back there," Angel said through gritted teeth, "then I'll come to you!"
A spear formed in his hand, its shape solidified through his will. He dashed forward and thrust it with all his might.
Clang!
The tip struck its chest—but barely pierced through.
"Damn it! Not sharp enough!"
The ghoul roared, unleashing a blast of demonic energy. Angel was flung back, crashing against the far wall.
As he pushed himself to his feet, the air grew heavier. The ghoul's armor began to shift, cracks glowing with dark energy.
Angel narrowed his eyes. "Phase two, huh?"
But then—
"Hm?"
A new presence filled the hallway. Cold. Regal. Familiar.
"To think it would take you this long to defeat it," a voice echoed calmly.
Angel's eyes widened.
Stepping out from the shadows, arms crossed, stood the man from the memories—regal and composed.
"Cain…"