Cold wind swept through the cavern passages as two figures moved carefully through the fractured underground terrain.
Water dripped from jagged rocks.
The atmosphere itself felt wrong.
Like reality had once torn apart here.
At the front walked a woman whose beauty could silence entire courts.
Long black hair flowed down her back like silk, contrasting sharply against pale skin and crimson eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness.
Abigail.
Daughter of Sekhmet.
A divine blooded existence.
And currently—
Deeply regretting her life choices.
Behind her stumbled Emryn Lionheart.
Future protagonist of The Last Wish.
Current idiot.
"Lady Abigail," Emryn suddenly said while shamelessly staring at her figure from behind, "has anyone ever told you your hair shines beautifully in cave lighting?"
Abigail's eye twitched.
"…No."
"Well, they should."
Another twitch.
She continued walking in silence.
Truthfully, Abigail had expected many things when her mother ordered her to guide the Lionheart heir.
Potential.
Talent.
Determination.
Maybe even arrogance.
But this?
This was somehow worse.
The boy thought with the lower half of his body more than his brain.
Every few minutes he would stare at her face with sparkling eyes like a lovestruck fool.
It was exhausting.
And annoying.
Very annoying.
Yet despite everything—
He was important.
Sekhmet herself had ordered Abigail to guide him toward the Fracture.
Toward the place where destiny should have begun.
Eventually, the cavern widened.
Abigail stopped.
Her red eyes narrowed slowly.
"…Impossible."
Emryn blinked.
"What happened?"
The place before them was empty.
Completely empty.
The Fracture should have been here.
A tear between dimensions.
A place overflowing with unstable divinity.
And most importantly—
The resting place of the Codex.
Yet now…
Nothing remained.
Only faint traces.
Abigail slowly crouched near the ground, placing her fingers against the stone.
A strange energy lingered.
Ancient.
Foreign.
Her expression darkened.
"…Someone took it."
Emryn frowned.
"Took what?"
"The Codex."
His eyes widened slightly.
"The legendary one?"
Abigail ignored him, focusing instead on the residual divinity.
There was another presence here.
A faint aura.
Refined.
Sharp.
And strangely oppressive.
"…Divinity."
Emryn tilted his head.
"Huh?"
Abigail stood slowly.
"The traces… they resemble divinity."
She thought quietly for a moment.
Then one name surfaced in her mind.
Asta Antioch she is the only one with divine blessings around this territory this strong.
Lady of the Antioch Highbloods.
One of the most dangerous women in the empire.
"…Maybe it was taken by the Antioch Highbloods," Abigail murmured.
The moment Emryn heard that—
His expression changed entirely.
A grin spread across his face.
Abigail immediately sensed danger.
"…Why are you smiling?"
Emryn rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Lady Asta…"
His grin widened.
"I heard she's insanely beautiful."
Silence.
Abigail stared at him blankly.
"…That's your reaction?"
"Even in Azeroth her beauty is famous," Emryn continued excitedly. "People say white-haired women from the Antiochs are unmatched."
His eyes sparkled shamelessly.
"I'm suddenly motivated to meet her."
Abigail felt a headache coming.
This dumbfuck should she just kill him?
That was genuinely the only word she could think of anymore.
Here they were discussing a stolen divine artifact capable of changing history—
And this idiot was excited because the suspect was beautiful.
Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose.
"…You should be worried."
"But why?" Emryn asked innocently. "If she's beautiful, maybe she'll treat me kindly."
"…That is not how powerful women work."
Emryn ignored the warning completely.
Instead, he looked oddly excited now.
Abigail sighed internally.
Her mother was ancient.
Sekhmet had witnessed empires rise and fall.
Yet somehow—
She had chosen this shameless creature.
Worse still—
Abigail herself was technically older than him by centuries.
And yet he still looked at her like a hormonal teenager discovering women for the first time.
"…We're leaving," she said coldly.
"Huh? Already?"
"There's nothing more here."
She turned around immediately.
"We'll head toward Kiev."
Emryn followed after her lazily.
"Will Lady Asta be there too?"
Abigail nearly lost composure.
"No."
"A shame."
"…Please shut up."
POV — Asta Antioch
The Raven Corps never failed.
That was one of the reasons Asta trusted them more than most nobles trusted their own shadows.
Inside her study, moonlight illuminated stacks of reports while magical screens floated around her.
One raven landed quietly near the window.
Asta removed the message attached to its leg and read it silently.
Her silver eyes narrowed.
"Lionheart."
The report continued.
Lionheart scion accompanied by unknown black-haired female detected within Antioch territory near the Tyber mountain ranges.
Unknown female.
Black hair.
Asta immediately sensed something wrong.
"Monitor their movements," she ordered calmly.
A shadow hidden within the room nodded before disappearing instantly.
Asta returned her attention to the report.
Emryn Lionheart.
The supposed future "hero."
Her expression remained indifferent.
Heroes were merely tools history used until they broke.
Just as she was about to set the report aside—
Her Travaspad suddenly glowed.
Asta's gaze sharpened.
A silhouette appeared within the projection.
Tall.
Blurred.
Distorted by magical interference.
Yet the pressure alone revealed authority.
"…Lady Asta," the man spoke calmly.
Asta's voice turned cold instantly.
"What do the Lyrins want?"
The silhouette chuckled faintly.
"Straight to hostility as always."
"You contacted me. Speak."
A brief silence followed.
Then—
"The Godslayer Protocol."
Asta's eyes hardened slightly.
"…What about it?"
"How's the boy doing? Heard he got into trouble, We don't want the project we all spent our time to die this quickly, Do we?"
"Your information network remains annoying."
"The Lyrins funded part of that research."
"And?" Asta replied icily. "It was still solely completed under my authority."
The silhouette's tone lowered.
"You know what he is."
Asta remained silent.
"He will eventually come to us," the man continued. "You cannot control it forever."
For the first time—
Asta smiled.
Cold.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
"…That is never going to happen."
The silhouette sighed softly.
"You sound attached."
"Careful," Asta warned.
"Attachment clouds judgment."
"And arrogance blinds foresight," she replied immediately.
Silence filled the connection.
Then—
The communication ended.
Asta cut the link herself.
The room grew quiet once more.
She slowly walked toward the window overlooking the moonlit estate.
Tonight, the moon looked unusually bright.
Her red eyes reflected its pale glow.
And before she realized it—
Her thoughts drifted toward a certain silver-haired boy with crimson eyes.
Azriah.
Asta frowned slightly.
"…Troublesome child."
Yet despite her words—
Her gaze softened faintly.
Only for a moment.
POV — Azriah Antioch
Darkness.
Endless darkness.
Tatara was unlike anywhere else in the world.
The trees here were twisted.
Corrupted.
Their bark looked almost flesh-like beneath the crimson moon hanging overhead.
Even the air felt poisonous.
Whispers echoed faintly through the forest.
Like the land itself was alive.
Azriah stood silently atop a massive branch, his crimson eyes observing the beast below.
A wolf.
No—
A monster.
Its fur was black as night itself, yet silver patterns glowed faintly across its body like moonlight trapped beneath skin.
Massive claws tore through the earth with each movement.
And its eyes—
Cold silver.
Predatory.
Nightfall.
One of the last surviving wolves of the Moon Tribe.
Sham floated nervously nearby.
"…Is this really going to work?"
Azriah smirked.
"It will."
In his hands rested several small pouches.
The smell coming from them was strange.
Sharp.
Metallic.
Ancient.
Sham glanced between the pouches and the wolf suspiciously.
"What exactly is in those?"
"Path to power."
"And?"
"Blood."
"…Whose blood?"
Azriah smiled wider.
"The blood of creatures Nightfalls despise."
Sham immediately understood.
"…You're baiting it."
"Correct."
The wolf below suddenly lifted its head.
Its silver eyes scanned the forest sharply.
It sensed something.
Azriah's grin deepened.
"Found me."
The wolf growled.
A deep sound that shook the surrounding trees.
Corrupted mana exploded outward violently.
Sham immediately backed away.
"…That thing feels terrifying."
"It should."
Azriah calmly loosened the Jian resting at his waist.
A sleek blade.
Elegant.
Deadly.
Yet compared to the monster below—
It seemed insignificant.
The Nightfall wolf suddenly looked upward.
Its gaze locked directly onto Azriah.
And then—
It disappeared.
The branch exploded.
Azriah jumped backward instantly as massive claws shredded through the tree where he had stood moments earlier.
BOOM.
The forest trembled.
Sham screamed.
"IT MOVES TOO FAST!"
Azriah landed smoothly on another branch.
The wolf turned toward him immediately.
Silver eyes glowing murderously beneath the red moon.
"…Beautiful," Azriah murmured.
The beast snarled violently.
Moonlight mana gathered around its claws.
Azriah's expression sharpened instantly.
"Here it comes."
The wolf lunged again.
Faster this time.
Azriah finally moved.
SHING.
The Jian left its sheath.
Moonlight reflected across the blade as Azriah stepped forward rather than backward.
Sham's eyes widened.
"ARE YOU CRAZY?!"
Claws descended.
Azriah twisted sideways at the last possible moment.
The attack barely missed his throat.
And then—
He struck.
A crescent arc of mana exploded outward from his blade.
Origin Art — First Chronicle.
Crescent Slash.
The wolf twisted midair unnaturally, avoiding a fatal hit, though blood still sprayed from its side.
The beast landed heavily.
And smiled.
Or rather—
The wolf equivalent of smiling.
Its killing intent intensified instantly.
Sham felt chills.
"…It likes fighting."
Azriah wiped blood from his cheek calmly.
"So do I."
The forest trembled again.
Red moonlight bathed the battlefield.
Monster and hunter stared at each other silently.
And then—
Both moved simultaneously.