In the heart of the legendary Castle of Supremes, the silence was broken only by the echo of the King of Supremes' footsteps. It was a crucial day: he had to present himself at the solemn assembly with the other council members to discuss the fate of the kingdom and decide, together, on matters that could no longer be delayed. He walked with a regal bearing, convinced he would find his faithful companions waiting for him around the stone table.
He could not have possibly suspected that, behind the heavy doors of the assembly hall, he would find a reality diametrically opposed to the one he imagined.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the man froze in place. The blood turned to ice in his veins. He clenched his fists with such force that his knuckles seemed ready to burst through the skin; the veins in his neck and arms began to swell and pulse violently, making the depth of his blind rage visible to anyone.
In the room he was staring at with wide eyes sat a masked man. He sat with a disturbing calmness, back straight and an air of defiance, as if he had been waiting for him for hours.
However, it wasn't that act of insubordination that shook him to his core, but what hung from the surrounding walls.
Five bodies—those of his most trusted brothers-in-arms—had been hung upon the wall like macabre ornaments. They were all dead. And they had died in an extremely violent, brutal, and aggressive manner, bearing the marks of a fury that did not seem to belong to this world.
In a modern and technological world, in the midst of the current year 2026, Silvester Stalloni, a boy of just fifteen, stood in front of the entrance to his school. The building was imposing—a large, privileged complex that housed the city's most promising students.
Silvester sighed, looking into his half-empty backpack.
"Damn it, I forgot all my gym gear at home!" he exclaimed to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Oh well, whatever. At most, I'll get the usual scolding from the teacher; it won't be the end of the world."
He set off along the polished corridors, heading toward his classroom. Suddenly, a classmate popped out of nowhere and slapped him on the back so powerfully that a sharp crack echoed throughout the hallway. The noise was so loud that several students turned around, curious and startled.
Silvester, face flushed with surprise and embarrassment, tried to compose himself. "Do you always have to introduce yourself in such a theatrical way?!" he snapped, trying to massage his aching shoulder blade.
"Hey, sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to actually make you mad," the friend replied, laughing and raising his hands in surrender. "Anyway, did you see the photo I sent you last night? The one for our school project?"
Silvester felt a slight pang of guilt. Actually, I haven't looked at it at all, but I certainly can't tell him that after all the work he did, he thought to himself.
Aloud, however, he responded with a convincing tone: "Yes, of course I saw it. It seems to perfectly meet all the requirements; in fact, I think it's an excellent job."
"Thank goodness! I was really worried, I honestly thought you didn't like it," the friend sighed in relief. "After all, it's a group project, I wanted us both to be satisfied."
Just then, the teacher arrived in class, putting an end to the conversation. Silvester and his classmate quickly sat in their seats. "Silence everyone, let's begin the lesson," the teacher ordered, opening the register.
"It's been a truly exhausting day," Silvester thought to himself a few hours later, as he walked home with his shoulders slumped from fatigue.
As he crossed the threshold of his house, the atmosphere immediately became silent and austere. The only ones who noticed his return, as usual, were the maids, who greeted him with their customary and detached "good morning."
However, there was something different that day. Someone whose sight left him completely surprised: his older brother. He saw him exit his room and head toward the kitchen with a decisive stride. The two crossed paths in the hallway and stared intensely at each other for a few seconds without saying a word.
His brother was an extremely serious young man. Looking at his massive and clearly toned physique, anyone could deduce the months of intense and brutal training he had undergone.
But what is he doing here without any warning? Silvester wondered, confused. He's been away from home for six whole months without a word.
In reality, Silvester knew almost nothing about his brother's private life, except for a few rare and fading happy memories from the past. He had no idea where he went when he disappeared, or what school or academy he actually attended.
"Hello, brother. You look tired," the elder said in a tone that sounded almost like a provocation. "Are you still the same do-nothing?"
Silvester looked him dead in the eye but decided not to give him the satisfaction. Without a word, he headed to his room to lie on the bed and seek some peace. His brother's name was Duch, and he always had that same irritating attitude. Silvester remembered that Duch had started to change about six years ago; before then, he was a sunny, selfless boy, always ready to laugh. He couldn't understand how he had changed so drastically, becoming the cold shadow he was now.
When dinner time arrived, Silvester left his room and headed toward the door of the large dining hall. As soon as he entered, he was frozen with surprise. He saw his father sitting at the table together with his two wives, surrounded by four girls and two boys.
The boy was clearly confused and bewildered: it had been a very long time since the entire family had gathered under one roof for a meal. While the father's two wives watched him with their usual gaze full of contempt and disgust, two of his brothers—the only ones he knew a bit better—approached him.
"The more I look at you, the harder it is to believe you're actually our brother," they whispered maliciously before sitting down.
Dinner began. Silvester remained in a state of mental confusion the entire time. The others ate with a flat calm and an almost artificial elegance; no one spoke, no one dared to look each other in the eye. The silence was broken only by the metallic clink of cutlery.
Once the meal was finished, the father stood up solemnly. He looked straight at his youngest son and spoke with a voice that chilled the room: "Silvester, tomorrow morning early, you will come with me. We are going on a trip."
In that exact instant, the expressions of the six children and the two wives changed radically. The shock painted on their faces was evident. The atmosphere in the room shifted drastically: the father was a cold man who rarely spoke to his children or showed interest in them. But the thing that had shocked everyone wasn't just that he had spoken... it was the fact that he had chosen to speak specifically to Silvester!