VOL.1- Feed Me Your Hatred, My King

The world was wrapped in a dense, silent garden of mist, where time seemed to have stopped. For a moment, the wind changed direction; the mist parted like a velvet curtain, revealing a figure who seemed to be in control of the shadows.

The figure, standing tall, possessed an aura both magnetic and unsettling. His black hair whipped in the wind, and his silken robe flowed like a river of darkness. The patterns on the fan he held shimmered in the dim light, moving as if alive. His sharp blue eyes carried secrets heavy enough to push the fog itself back.

This was the sorcerer, Heise.

"Come closer," he whispered. His voice was soft, yet held a veiled threat. "I have something to show you."

With a flick, he opened his fan. The mist recoiled—and a stage emerged. At its center stood a glass coffin, faintly glowing on its surface.

Inside, a pale and flawless youth lay. His dark hair framed a strikingly beautiful face. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling slowly, revealing a slumber too deep for dreams. Despite his serene appearance, he exuded a sense of restlessness, teetering on the border between life and something far darker.

"He looks innocent," Heise said, slowly circling the coffin. With his fan, he guided the mist, shaping the scene with painterly grace. "But he isn't. He caused the destruction of a world. Do you know why?"

The silence was heavy.

Then—

"Greed. Revenge." Heise's whisper was laced with accusation. "Can such a soul ever be forgiven?"

With a sharp snap, the fan closed, its tip resting on the glass.

"Ancient King Ru," he said, with a trace of bitterness in his voice. "You've earned every punishment."

His eyes locked onto Ru.

"The Thirty Sages of Light imprisoned you in the Crystal Tower, but let's be honest—that's hardly a harsh sentence, is it?"

He placed his hand on the edge of the coffin. His expression was unreadable.

"The ancient spirits of Planet Arinna hate you, Supreme Ru. And so do I."

There was a moment of silence.

"There's little point in talking to him," he added, with a shrug. "King Ru is too arrogant. He never takes what people say seriously."

Heise inhaled deeply. He breathed in the scent of Ru.

"Ah... his essence... sweet as honey, deadly as poison. That's why our immortal guests desire him."

Heise's silken fan closed quietly. Circling the glass coffin like a predator, his shadow slid over Ru's sleeping body like a long, black serpent. He stopped, tilted his head slightly and pressed a gloved finger to the surface of the glass.

His finger slowly traced the curve near Ru's lips.

"Innocent?" he whispered mockingly. "No. But beautiful?" His lips curled. "Undeniably."

A click from behind—a cufflink being adjusted.

A pause.

Heise's smile deepened. He looked over his shoulder. Lord Dekaris Zharqasti sat like stone in the director's chair. His vampire claw clutched his cane a little too tightly. His eyes—wine-red—weren't on Heise but still focused on the hand resting above the coffin.

"Ah."

Heise slowly withdrew his hand. Deliberately. Savoring it. He didn't bother to hide the pleasure he took in watching Dekaris clench his jaw.

"Forgive me," he said, his voice silky. "Did my admiration... offend you?"

Dekaris' voice was ice: "End your performance, sorcerer."

Heise began to walk slowly across the stage, his gaze returning to the shadows.

With his eyes back to the darkness, Heise started to move slowly across the stage.

"My lord, I and the other sorcerer always welcome immortal guests. We offer them a place similar to life on earth. And we play with our guests some enjoyable games."

Heise opened his arms wide—then spun gracefully, the hem of his silk robes swirling like smoke around him.

"As always, we have designed a magnificent game. A dangerous and passionate game that will take place in an interdimensional castle awaits you, dear guests."

He paused.

"The prize?"

He flicked his fingers. A phantom flame flared to life in midair, casting fleeting reflections on his sharp cheekbones as he smiled.

He looked back at Ru. A faint grin appeared on his lips.

"Him."

"CUT!"

The atmosphere snapped. The tension broke like a piece of glass. Heise's theatrical air dissolved, replaced by a sly smirk.

"Well, my lord? Was I convincing?"

Lord Dekaris Zharqasti sat with somber elegance in his black Victorian suit. His top hat sat perfectly atop his head, cane in hand. His wine-red eyes glimmered in the dim light.

He tapped his cane on the ground once.

"Meh," Dekaris said, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Heise's grin sharpened. "Meh? I poured my soul into that scene for you."

Dekaris leaned forward. His gaze intensified.

"You missed one detail." He paused. "This Ru... isn't the original."

Heise waved a hand dismissively.

"Why confuse the audience? The real King Ru is still rotting in the Crystal Tower—extracting him... would've been a hassle."

Dekaris tapped his cane on the floor again.

"You promised you'd deliver."

"And I will," Heise said, his voice sweet as syrup. "My plans always deliver."

His eyes drifted to the camera. For a moment, in those blue eyes, there was not just ambition—but something hungrier, something wilder, gleaming underneath.