Seko stood there, unmoving, as the full weight of his loss sunk in. His family—his true family—had been wiped out in an instant. His master, the monk who had raised him, the monks who had taught him peace and restraint... all slaughtered by the very beings who shared his blood.
But there was something far more unsettling than the blood-streaked walls and cold, lifeless bodies: the brutality of the killings. Vampires didn't kill this way. They didn't maim, they didn't disfigure. Fangs and claws were meant to silence, to drain quickly, with no sound, no struggle. But here... There were brutal cuts across the necks of the dead, their ribs broken as if with a blunt instrument. Some were even decapitated, heads placed aside like discarded dolls.
Seko couldn't breathe. His vision blurred, not just from the grief, but from the sudden, gnawing realization: This wasn't the work of his kin. This was something else. His family, the royal vampires, had killed in cold, methodical cruelty—but this? This was far more chaotic.
Kiyomi, standing behind him, watched as he stumbled, trying to take it all in. Her gaze never left the bodies, studying every detail of the carnage, every broken bone, every piece of shattered humanity.
"Why... why did they do this?" Seko's voice cracked as he turned to face her, the weight of grief and confusion pulling him down. "This... this isn't how vampires kill."
Kiyomi's expression hardened as she silently examined the carnage. "No. This is something else entirely. These wounds... they're deliberate."
Seko clutched his head, mind reeling. "Then who did this?" he whispered. "Who else could be capable of such savagery?"
Kiyomi's lips pressed together. "I don't know. But whatever this is, it's not over. And you're the only one alive who can help me understand it." Her gaze flickered briefly to the decapitated bodies before returning to Seko, her eyes sharp, calculating.
"I can't... I can't stay here," he murmured, backing away. "I'm a target now. They'll come for me next."
"You're coming with me," Kiyomi said firmly. She moved toward him, reaching out to grab his wrist before he could retreat further. "I'll keep you alive. But we need to move fast. Now."
Seko didn't fight her. He couldn't. There was nothing left for him here. The weight of his family's betrayal had crushed him, leaving only the hollow, gnawing pain of loss. Slowly, he nodded. "Where... where are we going?"
Kiyomi's voice was low, almost grim. "The Coalition of Human Administory."
Seko raised an eyebrow. "The what?"
Kiyomi's lips curled into a tight smile—half-exasperation, half-amusement. "It's where the rich live. And where the poor... rot."
The ride was long, filled with a heavy silence. Seko was still reeling from what he'd seen—he could still smell the blood, the decay. The weight of what had happened hung over him like a shroud, suffocating. But as they neared the gates of the Coalition, a strange sense of dread began to stir in his gut.
The Coalition wasn't a place for the faint of heart. It was a sprawling, brutal city—on the surface, an oasis for the rich and powerful, the people who controlled both wealth and knowledge. Beneath that, though, were the slums, the forgotten, the ones who had no place in the shiny towers and pristine streets.
Seko didn't belong here. But Kiyomi seemed to know this world all too well, moving with the practiced ease of someone who'd seen both sides of the coin.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Seko asked, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes swept over the towering skyscrapers and the bustling crowds in the streets, looking almost like a different world entirely.
Kiyomi gave a nod. "It's the only place where you can hide and get answers. The Coalition is neutral ground. If we're going to get anywhere, we need to be inside."
The gates loomed ahead, massive and imposing. A sharp contrast to the quiet serenity of the mountain temple. It felt like the entrance to another world.
And, to Seko, it was—his entire life was unraveling. The world he had known, the peace he had tried so hard to cling to, was slipping through his fingers.
Inside the Coalition, things weren't what Seko had expected. The towering buildings cast long shadows, their glass windows reflecting the gleaming lights of the city, a shining monument to wealth and power. Yet, as they passed through the polished streets, they could see the cracks underneath—the beggars, the homeless, the ones who lived in the shadows.
Seko's hand instinctively gripped the hem of his tunic, his thoughts clouded with memories of his master's teachings. The teachings that had driven him to try and live human—to live with restraint, with peace.
But now? Now he was in a place that showed no mercy for anyone. No one cared if you were a vampire or human. In the Coalition, you were either useful or forgotten.
And Kiyomi had brought him here.
To the one place he could both hide... and seek answers.
Seko stood at the foot of the stage, eyes flicking between the chaotic scene unfolding before him. The room, once filled with anticipation, suddenly felt more like a circus than a coalition of power. The leader of the Coalition—at least, the one Seko assumed was the leader—stood confidently at the top of the stage, his posture exaggerated for dramatic effect. He opened his mouth, his voice booming.
"The leader of the Coalition is coming on the stage!!"
The crowd shifted, eyes on the man, but before anything could escalate further, a voice interrupted, dry and dismissive.
"Shut up, you idiot," came the voice of the real leader, a man lounging on the steps to the stage, his posture slouched. He had messy black hair, tired eyes, and an almost bored expression. Atama, the leader, smacked the overzealous speaker on the back of the head, who winced and quickly scurried off stage.
"Go back and take care of your librarian girlfriend," Atama added, clearly unfazed by the situation, his voice a mix of irritation and laziness.
Kiyomi, standing beside Seko, gave an exasperated sigh. She'd seen this act more than once, but it didn't make it any less annoying. Her expression was neutral, though there was an edge of frustration in her eyes as she crossed her arms.
Seko, on the other hand, was mildly confused. He had expected someone with a more authoritative presence, but Atama's appearance, his lazy demeanor, and lack of care threw him off. Was this really the leader?
Atama's eyes flicked over to Seko as he lazily stretched his arms, as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"So, you're the vampire," Atama finally said, his voice flat. "You're not what I expected. You've got that 'I'm fighting my nature' vibe, but you don't seem like you'd fit in with the rest of them."
He stood up fully now, but his posture remained slouched, as if he didn't need to impress anyone. His eyes, empty and distant, scanned Seko, studying him with an almost apathetic curiosity.
"Tell me, vampire," Atama continued, finally cutting through the air with the coldness in his voice. "What is it you're really after? You come all the way here from a destroyed temple, with your kind on your tail, and yet, you don't act like any of them. Why haven't you just accepted your fate and started hunting?"