Chapter 1
Chapter 1:A Fresh Start
The night sky stretched endlessly, a sea of stars flickering in silent brilliance. But inside a sleek black car, a boy sat slumped in the back seat, his fingers absently scrolling through his phone. His eyes, hollow and devoid of light, barely registered the screen in front of him.
"Why is life so unfair?" he muttered under his breath. "The rich get richer, the poor get poorer, and people like me… we just fade away, forgotten by the world."
Chris, a 17-year-old boy burdened by sorrow, had long since lost any sense of happiness. His parents had died when he was young—at least, that was what they told him. But he knew the truth.
He had seen it with his own eyes.
That night was burned into his memory like an unhealed scar. Amidst the wreckage of twisted metal and shattered glass, he had seen him—a towering figure cloaked in red and black, his glowing crimson eyes piercing through the smoke and darkness. The man had stood there, motionless, watching as the car flipped and crumpled, as screams echoed into the cold night.
And then, he had vanished.
That was the night Chris lost hope. The night he realized that fate was never kind.
Now, years later, he was being forced to start over in a new city, far from the ghosts of his past. As the car rolled to a stop at the train station closest to his new apartment, he stepped out, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.
The train ride was quiet, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks almost lulling him into a trance—until a flicker of red caught his eye.
Through the reflection in the glass, he saw them—those same burning eyes, staring at him from inside the tunnel. His heart lurched.
He turned sharply—nothing. Just a stranger gripping the overhead handrail, his face lost in his phone.
Chris exhaled, shaking his head. I must be more tired than I thought…
By the time he arrived at his station, exhaustion weighed down his every step. The moment he unlocked the door to his apartment, he collapsed onto the bed, still in his clothes.
Outside, the wind whispered through the alleyways, and distant car horns blared through the city night.
Then, the atmosphere shifted.
A presence descended upon the window, unseen yet powerful. The moonlight shimmered unnaturally, illuminating the figure of a majestic being floating with eerie elegance. Its piercing gaze locked onto the boy before it passed effortlessly through the glass.
It hovered over Chris, its form barely tangible, as it placed its right hand upon his chest.
A sharp, searing pain shot through his body.
His heart wrenched from his chest in an instant.
Yet, instead of death, something else happened.
Thick, dark blood pumped into his system, seeping into his veins like liquid fire. The being marveled at its work, its eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"My master will be pleased," it thought. "Perhaps… I will be rewarded."
And just as silently as it came, it vanished into the night.
Chris twisted in agony, his body convulsing as the foreign blood coursed through him. His fingers clawed at the sheets, his breath ragged, his head hammering like a war drum. His very soul felt as if it was being rewritten.
Then, as if the world itself could not handle his transformation, the darkness swallowed him whole.
A Night of Blood and Chains
Chris awoke to pain.
White-hot agony tore through his ribs as a fist drove into his stomach. A violent cough escaped his lips, blood splattering onto the cracked floor beneath him.
Before he could even catch his breath, a powerful hand gripped his chest, lifting him like a ragdoll.
Then—he was airborne.
His body smashed against the wall, the concrete crumbling like sand beneath the force. His vision blurred as he felt himself falling—out of his apartment window.
Four floors.
The wind rushed past him, and in that brief moment of weightlessness, he saw him.
A figure stood above, watching his descent with eerie stillness. Dressed in dark, flowing garments, the inside of his jacket lined with deep crimson. A silver chain hung around his neck, a blood-red eye at its center. His long, silver-white hair shimmered under the moonlight, his pale skin almost luminous.
This was no ordinary man.
He raised a hand, and from the very air itself, chains of blood manifested, slithering like living serpents. With a flick of his wrist, they lashed forward, wrapping around Chris's body.
There was no time to react.
The moment the chains tightened, Chris was yanked mid-air, his descent turned into a deadly pull toward his attacker. He barely had time to register his feet being planted onto hichest before—
BOOM.
A monstrous force sent him plummeting straight down.
The air was crushed from his lungs. The world spun violently.
And then—impact.
His body slammed into the ground with earth-shattering force, debris exploding outward in a cloud of dust and rubble. His bones screamed in protest, the pain unbearable. He bounced off the cracked pavement, his consciousness slipping.
Above, the figure descended with an air of absolute dominance, prepared to end him.
But just before the final blow could land—
A blur.
Chris felt himself being wrenched from the battlefield, the world tilting as he was cradled in someone’s grasp. Another shadowed figure now stood where he once was, facing the silver-haired man with an unreadable expression.
"Well, would you look at that…" The attacker sneered, his crimson eyes flashing with amusement. "A vampire protecting a human? What a disgrace to our kind."
The air grew thick with malice, the very ground trembling beneath their feet.
"You don’t belong among the living," the silver-haired man continued, his voice laced with contempt. "Only death fits your punishment, Velmod—the vanquished soul of the living."
Chris, barely clinging to consciousness, felt the tension coil between them like a drawn bowstring.
A fight was about to begin.
And he was caught in the middle of it.
To Be Continued...
