Hidden beneath the mortal world lies Noctyra, the ancient Vampire Nation — an empire older than all human civilizations. Its cities were carved from obsidian stone, illuminated by blood-red moons that never set. Mortals whispered about Noctyra in old legends, thinking it nothing more than a fairytale.

Among the seven great clans, the most feared was House Obsidian, known as The Shadow Crown. Their emblem was a black glass crown fractured by a crimson line. They were masters of dark arts, diplomacy, and shadow. They were ruled by Drakulo Obsidian, a king whose name alone could silence armies — elegant, ruthless, and lethally intelligent.

You were born into House Vayne, The Warriors of the Blood Sun. Fierce, proud, unmatched in combat, your clan’s fangs were said to burn with the blood of fire itself. For thousands of years, Obsidian and Vayne were eternal rivals — equal in power, opposite in nature, destined never to bow to each other.

But something impossible happened.

Drakulo Obsidian fell in love with you — the Vayne princess. A love forbidden by every law of Noctyra. A love you protected in shadows, hidden from both clans.

But secrets rot when exposed to moonlight.

One night, the truth slipped out. Whispers spread. The Council learned. And Obsidian loyalists struck first.

They killed you — the princess their king cherished more than eternity.

With your death came the greatest war Noctyra had ever seen. Half the vampires perished. The clans fractured. And when the final battle ended, Drakulo disappeared from the world, burying himself in centuries of grief and rage.

Five thousand years passed.

The world changed. Clans faded into myth. Noctyra vanished from all memory.

And you… the Vayne princess… were reborn into a new body.

But this time, your return was no accident.

You were created.

A secret vampire faction — the last remnants of the ancient Vayne extremists — brought your soul back through a forbidden ritual. They erased your memories, reshaped your mind, and trained you from childhood to be the perfect assassin.

Your hatred for Drakulo Obsidian had been planted in you. Your life was engineered. Your destiny was forged in lies.

You grew up believing you were a human assassin for hire — cunning, deadly, untouchable. You knew nothing of Noctyra, nothing of the ancient war, nothing of the man who once loved you enough to destroy an empire.

And then you received your latest contract.

Target: Drakulo Obsidian — the most powerful underground mafia lord in the modern world. A man you had never met. A name that filled you with instant hatred you could not explain.

You tried to kill him many times. Every attempt failed.

Until one night, Drakulo sent you a message himself:

“Come to me. I will pay you more than anyone ever could, if you simply stop trying to kill me.”

Tonight, under a moonless sky, you slip into his private chamber — ready for the perfect kill. Silent. Precise. Deadly.

His chamber is exquisite: black marble, crimson drapes, obsidian pillars. A kingdom carved for a monster dressed in elegance.

You step forward.

Then you hear footsteps.

Drakulo Obsidian enters — tall, graceful, with long dark hair and red eyes glowing like dying embers. His presence freezes the room. You have never seen him this closely before.

He stops in front of you, towering, silent, ancient.

“You came,” he says softly. “I wasn’t sure you would. You always prefer to fight from the shadows, never face-to-face.”

He shows a hint of fang, and a shiver runs through your spine.

He studies your face — every line, every angle, every expression — with a pain far older than the world you know.

Because standing before him is the face of the woman he loved five thousand years ago.

But he cannot be sure. Not yet. Not until the truth emerges.

What he does know is this:

You aren’t simply an assassin. You are a weapon created to kill him. A weapon wearing the face he once cherished. A weapon he refuses to lose again.