(Author's Note: Sup! Welcome! Just wanted to warn you that the first ten chapters are all mysterious with a little bit of information there and there about the world, but I believe it's still intriguing and all! Have a nice day and happy read!)
-------------------
Chapter 1: The Beginning
Crimson light illuminated a throne set in a vast stone hall. The dark stonework drew in the moon's light and cast shadows against the far wall.
This crimson glow was ominous, and the moon was large, high above the dark clouds of the red sky.
It seemed like this place was coming straight from a book about dark creatures.
As if it was a place from hell or something. As if it was right to call it that by just seeing that moon and the color of the sky.
Sitting on a dark throne with red cushion atop a high platform, was a man whose face was entirely clouded by darkness or shadow.
The man's shoulder-length hair was blacker than the darkest night, and his face was shrouded in a veil of shadow, unnatural, as if the darkness itself clung to him.
It wasn't merely a trick of the dim light in the room, or his hair; the darkness seemed alive, an extension of him.
The scene might have been peaceful, had it not been for the suffocating presence that filled the room, the sense that something far more 'sinister' lay beneath the surface.
Suddenly, the darkness over the figure's face dissipated, revealing his features for the first time.
"Impossible!" His voice was sharp, a mix of disbelief and alarm. His eyes, blood red with white sclera, were wide with shock, and blazed in the dim light.
In an instant, he leaped to his feet. Several figures dressed in black materialized from the shadows, kneeling silently before him, awaiting orders.
"Blue Moon…" The man muttered under his breath, quickly regaining his composure. His cold gaze shifted to the kneeling figures, though his attention was elsewhere.
Turning towards the massive windows on the right, a different light illuminated the hall. A second moon, this one glowing a pale blue, hung low in the sky, casting its ethereal glow over the dark clouds below.
The kneeling figures exchanged glances, confusion and surprise evident in their body language, as their blood red eyes faintly shone for a second, though they dared not voice it.
'The moon is back. He's alive?' The man thought to himself inwardly, his expression blank as he continued to stare at the blue moon.
'He is…'
He lowered himself back into his throne. Darkness once again cloaked his face as he dismissed the figures with a mere wave of his hand.
....
...
..
.
Russian Federation, Wolfspine City
—The scene here felt as if it belonged to a distant memory, like a dream suspended between reality and the past.
A young boy, no older than six, walked down the urban sidewalk of Wolfspine with a neutral expression that seemed far too mature for his age.
He was dressed in a sharp black suit, complete with a tie and polished formal shoes that clicked against the pavement.
Flanking him were six men in black suits and sunglasses, one on each side, who scanned the area cautiously as if every passerby were a potential threat.
The boy's presence on the street was impossible to miss. People cast curious glances in his direction, some giggling at the sight of such a small child with such a heavy entourage.
Yet, despite the attention, the boy's expression remained unchanged—uninterested, almost weary.
Truly, a strange attitude for someone so young like him.
"Young Master—" One of the men to his right leaned in to whisper, but before he could finish, the boy raised a hand, silencing him with a sigh.
"Haaah... I know. It wouldn't be like this if I were walking alone…" His voice was soft, yet burdened, as if the weight of his circumstances was already crushing him. The sadness in his tone was undeniable.
"No can do, Young Master." The man to his left spoke firmly. "What if something happened to you? You're infamous, after all — the son and heir of the largest business owner in Wolfspine, Moscow, and—"
Before the man could continue, the boy interrupted him, his sharp eyes narrowing. "That's because I'm followed by six, sometimes twelve, men in suits every time I step outside for a night walk. Even the homeless in Wolfspine know who I am now."
For a six-year-old, he was exceptionally sharp. His wit left the men momentarily speechless.
They knew he had a point, but they couldn't let their guard down. The world he lived in was dangerous — his father had enemies lurking everywhere, some of whom already knew of the boy's existence.
Though the men wanted to remind him of the countless dangers his father's empire attracted, they had learned that the boy had a habit of maneuvering his way around their logic.
Every time they tried to instill caution, he would counter with a clever argument that left them with no choice but to fall silent.
So, they kept quiet, exchanging wary glances. He was indeed a smartass — a dangerous combination of intelligence and defiance at such a young age.
It was both impressive and troubling to witness a child so attuned to the world's filth and the term 'enemy'.
As they continued walking down an empty street, they approached a narrow alley. At first glance, it seemed like any other quiet corner of the city.
But then—
"Get away from me! Help! Mommy! MOM—"
The high-pitched scream of a young girl pierced the silence, echoing from the alley.
For a brief second, the group froze. The boy's sharp eyebrows furrowed, his eyes locking with the six men behind him. He didn't need to say a word, his intense gaze conveyed everything.
The men understood immediately. In one fluid motion, they drew their pistols, ready for whatever lurked ahead.
Two of them moved forward, slipping into the shadows of the alley with professional precision, while the boy followed closely behind, the remaining four forming a protective barrier around him.
This was no longer just a routine walk. Something was about to happen.