Elder White Fang and Lord Leah sat in a spacious room within the Taka Clan’s grand manor. This was the family estate of Elder White Fang—an ancestral home filled with deep history and old scars.
The room was adorned with simple drawings and designs that were so simplistic one could mistake this place for any average room except for the clan’s logo that was etched on one side of the wall.
Though Lord Leah had initially found the manor’s imposing yet simple presence unsettling, she had grown accustomed to it during their stay. Yet, the true weight of their surroundings was only now becoming clear.
Leaning back in her chair, Lord Leah observed Elder White Fang, whose eyes were fixed on the flickering light of a lantern. She had come to learn more about the man seated before her—a man of great power and mystery. The Clan Leader, Hina, who was also White Fang’s youngest sister, had shed light on their family’s past.
The Taka Clan was originally from the Northern Ireleone Continent, making Elder White Fang’s roots deeply tied to this land. He had been the firstborn child of the previous Clan Leader, now long deceased. But whatever prestige and honor that might have once held had long since turned to ash.
“Did he tell you why he left?” Lord Leah asked, her voice calm but curious.
Clan Leader Hina leaned forward, her eyes hardening slightly. “He ran away,” she said plainly. “Not just from his duties, but from his family. He stole a sacred family artifact—a key to our clan’s deepest secrets. And then he destroyed it.”
Leah glanced at Elder White Fang, who remained silent, his gaze still on the flickering flame in the room with them. He showed no reaction to his sister’s words, no sign of protest or defense. He simply listened, allowing her version of events to spill forth unhindered. Leah studied him for a moment longer before returning her attention to Hina.
“Why would he destroy it?” Leah pressed.
Hina’s lips thinned. “Perhaps he thought he was saving us from ourselves. Or perhaps he simply wanted to hurt us. The reasons have never mattered to me. What matters is that he did it, and then he left.”
Silence fell over the room, broken only by the faint crackling of the lantern. Elder White Fang’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight in his presence, a silent acknowledgment of the past without justification or regret.
Lord Leah wondered what kind of burden he had carried all these years and why he chose not to defend himself now.
At last, Hina turned to her brother, her voice softening slightly. “Do you think the two Family Lords will stir up trouble?”
White Fang finally met her gaze, his expression shifting from distant to focused. He gave a single nod, his approval clear. “Undoubtedly,” he said.
Hina’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s make a wager. I say it will be Lord Acheon who pushes things too far.”
“And you believe that’s why I chose Lord Terrace as a counterbalance,” White Fang replied, his tone devoid of accusation. “Interesting.”
The two siblings shared a glance filled with layers of meaning, unspoken memories, and of course the pressure that came with betting.
Leah watched the exchange, sensing that their words carried far more weight than they let on but she remained silent regardless.
~~~~~
Elsewhere, within the shattered remains of the Haylen manor, Lord Terrace delivered on his promise. Paul Haylen, bruised and broken, lay crumpled on the ground.
The nobleman’s body was a canvas of pain, each nerve a raw, exposed wire. Lord Terrace moved with a calm that hid the fury simmering just beneath the surface. His movements were deliberate and precise. There was no rage in his actions—only cold, methodical intent.
“You’ve had this coming for a long time,” Lord Terrace said quietly, his voice carrying no emotion.
“Hmm… Please!” Paul whimpered as Lord Terrace knelt beside him. With practiced ease, he grasped Paul’s hand and, one by one, began to pull out his fingernails.
“Not the fingers! Not the fucking fingers! Please, I’m sorry!” Paul screamed, the sound echoing through the ruins of his once-grand estate.
The pain was excruciating, but it didn’t end there. Lord Terrace moved to his teeth, extracting each one with a methodical ruthlessness that left Paul sobbing uncontrollably.
Damon watched from a distance, his hands clenched at his sides. His father’s cold efficiency was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. He knew this was a lesson—a brutal one, but a lesson all the same.
Lord Terrace had told him that there were times when mercy was a weakness. This, it seemed, was one of those times.
Paul’s screams had faded to weak gasps by the time Lord Terrace finished with his teeth. Blood dripped from the nobleman’s mouth, and his eyes rolled back in his head. But Lord Terrace wasn’t done.
He stood, lifting Paul effortlessly, and dropped him to the ground. Then, with a precision that spoke of years of battle-hardened experience, he began to break Paul’s bones—one by one.
Pa!
Kraa! Kraaaa!!
Arms, legs, ribs. Each time Paul’s body healed enough to regain awareness, Lord Terrace would repeat the process.
“Actions have consequences,” Lord Terrace said, his voice low and cold. “You sought to harm my family. Now, you’ll remember what that costs.”
Eventually, Paul’s body could take no more. His mind gave way to unconsciousness, sparing him the pain of further torment. Lord Terrace exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he straightened. He looked down at the broken man, now little more than a husk of what he had been.
Turning away, Lord Terrace walked over to where Damon stood. The boy’s face was pale, his eyes wide with a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite process. His father met his gaze, his expression softening only slightly.
“There are times when evil is completely necessary,” Lord Terrace said, his voice gentler now. “Or they will walk over you. This is one of those times.”
“Come, let’s go.” Lord Terrace called out to his son. This was a moment neither would forget, a lesson that would shape Damon’s understanding of the world—and his place within it.
“Yes, Father!” Damon answered as he joined his father who was already walking away. Father and son walked away, leaving the ruined Haylen manor behind.