The Dracknum family is known as the enforcers of the kingdom’s law—but not in the conventional sense. They are neither judges nor bureaucrats; they are hunters of those who dare call themselves hunters. Predators who prowl the shadows of the noble world, preying on the powerful who believe themselves to be at the top of the food chain. Their presence serves as a silent warning to those who seek to bend the law to their will: there is no escape—not for kings, not for nobles, not even for titans.

Yet, contrary to what one might expect, this immense power has never corrupted them with arrogance or reckless ambition. The throne? A worthless burden in their eyes. Glory, wealth, recognition? Nothing but meaningless distractions. The Dracknum abide by a single law: the law of the strong. To them, ruling a kingdom would be a prison, a chain that would bind their existence and true purpose.

For this reason, they chose to establish themselves in the Black Forest, an ancient and untamed land where one of the portals to the Demon Realm lies, sealed by an ancestral barrier. A cursed region, feared even by the bravest. But to the Dracknum, this was the ultimate hunting ground—a place where only the strong survived and where their code was constantly put to the test.

The Black Forest was divided into five sectors: North, South, East, West, and Central. Each sector forms part of the first layer of the Demon Forest’s seal, a mystical barrier preventing demonic entities from escaping into the outside world. Every zone has its own wild and hostile ecosystem, ruled by two forces: a magical beast, sovereign of the creatures within, and a member of the Dracknum family, aided by the Forest Rangers—silent and ruthless sentinels against any threat. But the Central sector… that was different.

There, at the very heart of the Black Forest, lay a secret that only the Dracknum patriarchs dared to confront. No human, aside from them, ever set foot on that forbidden ground. Only the beast reigned there—an entity as ancient as the forest itself. The twisted trees whispered tales of an age long past, and the shadows seemed to move on their own, as if they were something more than the mere absence of light.

Luminus walked in silence beside Thomas Dracknum, his father. The narrow path ahead was illuminated only by sparse bioluminescent fungi clinging to the tree trunks, casting an eerie green glow in the gloom. The sky’s light dared not touch this land. The air was dense, thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something indefinable, an odor that stirred a primal instinct of caution.

They had arrived.

The nest of the Central Sector’s ruler was no mere refuge—it was a living throne, woven from branches as black as the night, twisted and interlaced with bones long forgotten by time. A crushing presence emanated from that structure, as if the very forest itself breathed in reverence.

From the heart of that throne of darkness, golden eyes gleamed, piercing through the shadows. A voice echoed—deep, laced with something unfathomable, something that made the skin crawl and reverberated through the bones.

"Thadeus… it has been quite some time since you last came here."

Luminus felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of that voice. It did not belong to a mere beast. And then—it moved.

The colossal creature began to emerge from the darkness, its form shifting like an ever-changing illusion. At first, it appeared as a monstrous bear, then something larger—perhaps a dragon. A moment later, its outline morphed into that of a griffin, then a massive serpent, and finally, it became something Luminus could not define. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing—but it failed.

Then, from the shadows, a man emerged.

Of average height, with short hair and impeccably formal attire. But as he stepped closer, Luminus felt a sharp, cutting chill. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

That man had no face.

Smooth skin stretched over where his eyes, nose, and mouth should have been, triggering a primal, instinctive alarm in Luminus’s mind.

"How… how is this possible?" he murmured, unable to tear his gaze away.

Beside him, Thomas remained impassive, his voice steady as he declared:

"Luminus, look well. This is the oldest and most powerful beast of the Black Forest. The last of its kind, and also the Guardian of Dracknum. Thanatos Loki Ke Dracknum—a Shapeshifter."

A suffocating silence stretched between them before the creature spoke again, its voice now laced with an almost amused sarcasm.

"Thadeus, Thadeus… why have you not visited me in so long?"

The voice came from everywhere at once. Luminus blinked—and in that instant, the faceless figure was no longer where it had stood.

Instead, it now leaned casually over Thomas’s shoulder, as if it had always been there. The whisper that followed was almost intimate—yet it carried a cruel, unbearable weight.

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"Could it be because of Mar…"

A crash interrupted him.

The forest trembled. The air grew heavy—almost impossible to breathe. The sheer pressure emanating from Thomas Dracknum was overwhelming, crushing like the wrath of a Dragon. The ground beneath his feet cracked, fissures snaking across the earth like open veins.

But Thanatos only laughed—a low, amused chuckle. He didn’t move. Not an inch.

“Father…” Luminus murmured, feeling the weight of that force press against his very existence.

Thomas gradually eased the pressure, but his eyes remained as cold as a drawn blade.

"Do not speak that name again."

His voice was sharp as ice, controlled yet laced with an unspoken threat.

Thanatos smiled. Or at least, Luminus had the distinct impression that he did, though his face remained featureless.

"Oh… but of course, my old friend," he replied, his voice dripping with wicked amusement.

The patriarch ignored the provocation. His gaze didn’t waver, his breath remained steady.

"I have no time for these trivial games. Take us to the breach."

Thanatos raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture, feigning confusion.

"Breach?" he echoed, his tone filled with mock innocence. "Whatever do you mean, Thadeus?"

Thomas's eyes narrowed. His voice stayed calm, but there was a distinct weight behind his words.

"Loki."

For a moment, silence spread through the trees.

Then, without haste, Thomas adjusted his black leather gloves with precise, deliberate movements.

"I shouldn’t have to say this, but some idiot has broken one of the seal’s layers."

"Which means the Blood Moon has descended upon us," Thomas concluded, his words heavy.

Thanatos remained silent for a moment, tilting his head upward as if sensing something. Then, he let out a theatrical sigh.

"So that's why I feel two energies coming from the sky…" he murmured, dragging out his words with irony. "Interesting."

Thomas scoffed, crossing his arms.

"And here I am, cleaning up the mess your negligence caused."

Thanatos chuckled again, shaking his head slightly.

"Ah, always so diligent, Thadeus…" He waved a hand dismissively, as if Thomas were nothing more than an insistent courier. "And what exactly do you expect me to do?"

"How about being a good ancestor and opening the way?"

For a brief moment, the air froze.

Thomas’s eyes burned with an intense golden glow, like embers stoked by a stormy wind. A golden aura erupted around him, undulating like ethereal flames.

This time, the pressure that followed wasn’t an overwhelming, unfocused burst—but something precise, meticulously controlled. Like a blade sliding across an enemy’s throat, the force concentrated entirely on Thanatos, closing in around him like a storm on the verge of breaking.

Yet, once again, he acted as if nothing was happening.

With an air of complete nonchalance, he began pacing back and forth, hand resting on his chin, like a philosopher mulling over a trivial question.

"Hmm…" he muttered, turning one way.

Then, he turned the other.

"Hmm…"

He paused dramatically, tapping his foot against the ground as if performing a scene for an invisible audience.

"…"

Suddenly, Thanatos snapped his fingers and struck his fist against his palm, his unseen eyes lighting up as if he had just had a brilliant revelation.

"I got it!" he exclaimed, his voice exaggeratedly childlike.

But just as quickly as his theatrical enthusiasm had appeared, it faded into a bored sigh.

"Letting you through would be pointless. The breach is closed."

His voice had lost all amusement, now drawn-out and laden with deep annoyance.

Thadeus raised an eyebrow.

Thanatos sighed again, dramatically.

"You don’t believe me? Then see for yourself."

With another snap of his fingers, one of the blocked paths—once sealed by thick, ancient trunks—began to shift. It opened slowly, as if the forest itself yielded to his command. The space widened before them, revealing a passage…

But beyond it, there was only darkness.

A thick, endless shadow—deep and unfathomable, like an abyss that devoured even the faintest light.

Luminus and Thadeus turned to look.

The young man held his breath. He saw nothing beyond that void. No trace of light, no sound, no sign of what might lie on the other side. Only endless, suffocating darkness.

‘What could possibly be beyond that?’

"Whoever was on the other side sensed my mana, refused to come out, and forcibly shut the breach." Thanatos let out a long, disappointed sigh, shaking his head like a teacher watching a failing student.

"Pathetic. Can't even die for his own freedom."

Thadeus wasted no time. After staring into the abyss for a few moments, he turned with firm resolve.

"Luminus, we’re leaving."

The young man hesitated for a brief second before following.

"Leaving already?" Thanatos whined, slipping back into his exaggerated childlike voice. "Come on now, it's been ages since your last visit…"

Thadeus kept walking without so much as a glance back. His posture was steady, his expression unchanging.

But as he reached the exit, Thanatos’s voice shifted.

"Thadeus." This time, his tone was heavier—laden with something deeper.

"The sand has already begun to fall. Your time is running out."

Thadeus paused for a brief moment but didn’t answer. He simply kept moving, vanishing into the darkness of the forest.

Thanatos smiled—or at least, it felt as if he did.