The vampire settlement lay unchanged for centuries, eternally cloaked in darkness, with only dim light sources punctuating the shadowed streets. Green candles flickered in iron sconces along cobbled alleys, while shimmering orbs hovered silently, casting pale glows across jagged rooftops. The air was cold, biting, and still, flowing through the stone structures like a ghostly sigh. Mist crept along the paths, curling around towers and walls like memories of the past revisiting old homes.
Sprawling castles of the noble clans dominated the skyline, surrounding the central district like a circle of jagged fangs guarding a heart. Each fortress bore the hallmarks of its lineage: some stately and refined, polished marble reflecting centuries of pride; others brutal in design, blocks of blackened stone stacked with unyielding precision, doors massive enough. Hierarchy dictated every movement, every bow, every whispered conversation within the settlement. From the high-born fortresses to the modest halls of lesser clans, there was no escaping the rigid social order.
At the very core of this night-bound city stood the vampire academy, a towering monument of shadow and discipline. Its spires reached toward the dim sky, blackened windows staring like eyes that had seen everything. Its courtyards echoed with the clang of practice weapons, the shouts of instructors, and the whispers of young vampires testing their abilities. Near it rose the Ironkong castle, a fortress of obsidian and steel, home to the bloodline of warriors renowned for their unrivaled strength. Adjacent stood the king's castle, imposing and pristine, a symbol of authority. Just beyond, a solitary enigmatic tower spiraled into the night, reserved for vampires whose abilities defied convention—outsiders in their own world, yet feared and respected all the same.
Inside the academy, the hierarchy was reflected in every stone and corridor. Halflings—those young vampires yet to unlock their full abilities—trained diligently, learning the basics of vampiric life: blood control, stamina, and the rudiments of combat. These were the novices, the foundation of the academy's immense structure. Above them were the regulars, those who had evolved beyond halfling status, their abilities stronger, their bodies honed through discipline. They were the bridge between learning and mastery, preparing to inherit the legacies of their clans. At the highest level were the nobles: elite students trained in the art of vampire warfare, martial arts, strategic combat, and the full expression of their abilities. The curriculum resembled human education in structure but was far more unforgiving. Here, the true focus was raw power, discipline, and combat—every lesson a step closer to greatness, every misstep a reminder of mortality.
It was into this world that Bon had just arrived.
The royal escort had delivered him, and the story of his introduction was already the stuff of legend. His father, Barek Ironkong, had greeted him with a blow that sent him flying across the Virefang throne room, slamming into the grand entrance wall and cracking its obsidian surface. The expression on Bon's face had been calm, almost expectant, as if he had anticipated the force and was ready for it. Even in that moment, he had claimed, with a grin, that it was worth it. Bronx Ironkong, witnessing the exchange, had erupted into laughter, claiming Bon was a perfect reflection of his father.
Following the ceremonial—if brutal—welcome, Bon was immediately registered under the name Bon Ironkong, a request made by his father who believed the boy should feel rooted in the academy if he was to remain. Bon's face had lit up with a smile that seemed larger than the room itself, and Barek had merely chuckled before ejecting him from the throne room, insisting he be placed among the nobles.
Naturally, this surprised both the king and Bronx. Bon's age suggested he should have been among the halflings—or at most, the regulars if his genius was considered extraordinary. But Barek's laughter had silenced their doubts. "Trust me," he had said, and they had, intrigued if uneasy.
On his first day, Bon sat alone in a far corner of the nobles' classroom. Yet, he was never truly alone. Every pair of eyes in the room was on him.
"That's him…" one whispered.
"Bon Ironkong, right? Picked up from the human world…" another murmured.
"The Virefang twins Roy and Ross brought him in. Their first mission, and they succeed? Must be nice, having the Virefang name," someone added.
Even amidst awe, unease spread. "But look at him… even for an Ironkong, he's monstrous. And why is he in nobles class? Shouldn't he be a regular?"
Bon remained still, quiet, unbothered. His broad shoulders and thick arms seemed almost exaggerated, his aura heavy even under suppression, like a storm waiting to break.
Then, a boisterous voice cut through the murmur:
"HEY!!"
A bulky figure strode forward with a grin that could fill a room, muscles rippling under the academy uniform, exuding confidence.
"Name's Tawa. Tawa Ironkong. You must be the new one. Hear your family—you look strong. Let's be friends."
Bon blinked. No one had spoken to him directly yet, and all eyes were still on him, curious and wary. But Tawa seemed fearless. He extended a hand.
From across the room, a girl with sleek, straight hair let out a soft sigh. "Aw, not again," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
Bon shook Tawa's hand. The grip tightened—not a greeting, but a test of dominance. Muscles bulged as Tawa sought to assert power.
Bon didn't flinch. He stared, calm and unwavering.
Tawa's mind raced. No way… he's resisting me? He's overpowering me?! Who is this kid?
Bon tilted his head, voice calm. "I'm Bon, like you heard. And yes, I am strong. You seem strong too, T." A friendly smile spread across his face.
Tawa blinked, stunned. Slowly, he released his grip, forced to concede.
'T?' he frowned, shaken. Man, I lost the Iron Test to some random dude who just showed up?
A slow grin returned, red fire flickering in his eyes. "Aight then… this year's grand tournament gon' be fun."
Murmurs erupted once more:
"Did you see that?"
"Tawa tried the Iron Test on him… and lost?"
"Wh- whoa… he's just a kid, you're kidding, right?"
Before more could unfold, the heavy wooden door creaked. A shadow swept into the room.
"Alright, everyone," the teacher called, voice firm. "Take your seats. Lesson begins now."
---
Meanwhile, in the king's castle, crimson light bathed the royal chamber, casting long, ominous shadows across the marble floors. Seated at the head of the table was the King, swirling a goblet of bloodwine, serene and unreadable. Around him sat the five vampire lords, draped in tradition and silence, their presence commanding respect even in stillness.
"We're only waiting on Barek now," the King said calmly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. With him, every move, every word, was strategy. Coincidence had no place here.
The chamber doors opened slowly. Barek stepped inside, each footfall echoing like a drumbeat, the weight of his presence filling the room even without armor.
"And the guest finally arrives," the King said. Still smiling. Still unreadable.
Barek nodded once, taking his seat.
The meeting was about to begin—