Barek stood in the center of the wreckage that used to be his living room.
The roof sagged inward, splinters of shattered beams hanging like jagged ribs. The moonlight poured through the cracks, painting the blood-smeared floor in dull silver.
His boots sank into the mix of dirt and blood with a muted squelch. The copper scent was overwhelming — thick, clinging, heavy enough to choke a man.
He didn't move at first. Just stood there.
His eyes — sharp and wild, a faint ember of crimson flickering beneath the calm — scanned the scene with a kind of quiet fury.
His chest rose and fell slow, deliberate, as though he were keeping a beast caged just behind his ribs.
A slow exhale escaped him, curling into the cold air. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, voice deep and husky. "Looks like a damn war broke out here."
He crouched, placing two fingers against a long, streaked trail of blood that slashed across the floorboards. He rubbed the half-dried fluid between his fingertips, thoughtful.
"I smelled it from outside," he said to no one in particular, eyes narrowing. "Figured somethin' happened… but this much?"
He lifted his hand to his face, sniffed.
Then frowned.
"This ain't Bon's blood," he murmured. "Heh."
A faint grin cracked his face, sharp and proud. "That's ma boy."
And before any hesitation could form, he pressed the blood to his tongue.
Instantly — the world shifted.
The wreckage faded, colors draining into shadow and mist. Then came a sudden surge of energy, rippling through him like an electric pulse. His pupils dilated, burning crimson. His breath hitched as his mind was pulled somewhere else — deep into the memory embedded in the blood.
His vision warped, tunneled — and suddenly he wasn't in ruins anymore.
He was outside his own cottage. Untouched. Watching.
The moon still hung high above, calm and perfect. Fireflies flickered faintly near the door. And through the window — there he was.
Bon.
Lazily lounging, arms tucked behind his head, boots propped up on a stool, eyes half-lidded in that same careless way his father used to sit back when he was young and untouchable.
Even through the vision, Barek could almost feel the boy's pulse — steady, confident, reckless. Just like him.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Always relaxed when you shouldn't be, huh, kid?"
Then—
Knock. Knock.
The sharp, hollow sound cut through the air. Bon jolted up, his brow furrowing.
"On my way!" he called, his voice steady — too steady.
He started toward the door but halfway there, he froze. His posture shifted; shoulders tense, head cocked slightly to the side.
Silence.
No response from outside.
Bon's expression hardened. The easy air around him evaporated. He sniffed once, twice — like a wolf catching a scent he didn't like.
"…Your scent," he muttered. "You're not my old man… and you ain't human either."
His voice dropped low, sharp, the warmth gone.
"So quit playin' and speak up. Who the hell are you?"
Outside, a chuckle rolled through the stillness. It was deep, mocking.
"Well, well, well… kid's sharper than I thought. Picked us out even with our scent masked."
Another voice joined — higher, sarcastic. "You hear that? We got a little prodigy on our hands. Cute. Step back, brat. We're comin' in."
Bon's lips twisted into a smirk. He took a single step forward and — to their surprise — unlatched the door himself.
"Evenin', gentlemen," he greeted smoothly, leaning on the frame with casual swagger. "Hate to ruin your dramatic entrance, but I'd rather you not wreck my place. It's barely holdin' together as it is."
The two figures outside exchanged looks. Rain dripped from their cloaks, tapping on the wooden porch.
Neither of them smiled.
This is the vampire we were sent to retrieve? one of them thought, sizing him up. Barely sixteen. Still got that new-blood smell. And yet… this aura—
Bon's grin widened as if he could read the thought right off their faces.
"You two lost, or you just bad at introductions?"
The taller one — pale, with long black hair sticking to his cheeks — sneered. "You settin' us up, kid?"
Bon scratched his chin, pretending to think. "Huh. That would've been smart, huh? Maybe plant some traps, find a few escape routes. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan."
He shrugged lazily. "But that ain't really my thing."
The shorter man chuckled darkly. "You got guts. I'll give you that."
Bon's eyes began to glow faintly — a dim red flicker beneath the lamplight.
"You two smell almost like me," he said. "You're vampires, ain't ya? From that place ?"
The tall one stepped forward. "Enough talk. You're comin' with us. Orders."
He reached out, grabbing for Bon's arm—
—but his fingers sliced through empty air.
"What the—?" He blinked, confused. Bon wasn't there.
The boy's voice drifted from behind them, lazy and amused.
"Y'all gotta work on your awareness. I moved before your hand even twitched."
He was standing by the window now, back turned, one hand resting on the sill. He didn't even look tense.
"I think I get it now," Bon continued. "You're from that place, sent to haul me back. Probably thinkin' I ran off, broke some rule."
He turned slightly, eyes glowing brighter. "And if that's the case, then tonight's perfect."
"Perfect for what?" the shorter vampire asked, scowling.
Bon's smirk grew sharp. "For testin' my limits."
He cracked his neck, his knuckles, then rolled his shoulders. "I've been waitin' to see what I can really do, you know, against actual vampires that aint ma dad. That dude's a monster!"
The shorter one barked a laugh. "You? Against us? Boy, don't make me—"
"Shut it," the taller one cut in, eyes narrowing. "Can't you feel that?"
The air around Bon had begun to grow tense — faint, subtle at first, then heavier. A low vibration thrummed in the floorboards, rattling the table beside them. The faint flicker of red in his eyes had become a steady blaze now, like molten iron behind glass.
Bon smiled — slow and dangerous. "Oh, so you feel it too?"
"Enough games!" The shorter one lunged forward, claws drawn, slicing through the air.
But Bon didn't flinch.
He moved — fluid, blindingly fast — and in an instant, he was behind his attacker.
The man froze mid-swing, a shallow line of red blooming across his chest.
"First lesson," Bon said softly, voice right by his ear. "Never assume the kid's the weak one."
The taller one gritted his teeth, his own eyes glowing now, and charged. Bon turned, deflecting his blow with one arm, the impact shaking the air.
The room erupted in motion — wood splintering, the walls cracking as they clashed. Bon's laughter cut through the chaos, wild and fearless.
"Y'all fight like soldiers," he said between dodges, his grin feral. "Disciplined. Predictable."
He vanished again — reappeared behind them both, his voice a whisper in the dark.
"But me? Im wild you see, just like ma old man"
Both attackers hit the ground hard, rolling to regain footing. Blood dripped down their chins.
The taller one spat, fury in his eyes. "You— you're not even fully awakened yet!"
Bon's eyes dimmed just slightly as he looked at him. "Guess that makes this embarrassing for you then, huh?"
He raised his hand — crimson energy flickered around it, spiraling upward like a flame made of pure malice.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Inside the vision, Barek's heart pounded in his chest. Watching, feeling his son's power bloom — it sent a chill down his spine. Not fear.
Pride.
But also a shadow of dread.
"Bon… what the hell are you doing?" he muttered under his breath. "I told you not to ever drag on a fight. Damn kid, he's too cocky for his own good"
The image trembled, cracked — the vision starting to fade.
And as the memory dissolved, Barek's last glimpse was of his son standing tall amidst the chaos, smiling through the blood and ruin.
"Guess you can tell your boss," Bon said to his fallen attackers, his voice echoing.
"Next time you send hounds after me—
make sure they bite harder."
Then the world went white.
Barek's eyes snapped open, breath ragged, back in the wreckage of his home. The blood had dried on his fingertips. His body trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer surge of power he'd felt through the vision.
A slow smile crept across his face.
"That boy…" he said, voice low, proud, dangerous. "He's growing right before ma eyes'."
He rose to his feet, the last echoes of Bon's laughter still ringing faintly in his ears.