The Beast Tamer Clan's Monster Overlord

It was already deep into the night when the heavy doors of the Grand Duke's private study opened, and the tall man with sharp eyes and a dark coat entered quietly, followed by a well-dressed assistant who was holding a stack of papers close to his chest, his steps nervous and his voice shaking slightly as he spoke.

"My lord, the operation failed," the assistant said in a low voice, his eyes not meeting the Grand Duke's as he placed the documents on the large oak desk in front of him, papers filled with sealed reports and red marks showing danger, loss, and silence from the agents who were sent out days ago.

The Grand Duke didn't speak at first, walking slowly behind his desk as he unfastened his cloak and sat down in the tall chair with golden trim, the flickering candlelight casting a long shadow across his face that made his tired expression seem even darker.

"Failed?" he said at last, making the assistant flinch just a little, but the man forced himself to nod and continue.

"Yes, my lord… none of the men returned," he said, clearing his throat nervously. "And based on the information we got from the scouts, it seems they were all… taken out. Quietly. No witnesses."

The Grand Duke leaned back, fingers steepled as he stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking deeply, as if the answer he was looking for was hidden in the shadows above.

"And the target?" he asked,

"Still unknown, My Lord" the assistant replied quickly. "But… the last location reported was near the border of Gravenreach… near that forest."

There was a long silence between them, only the sound of the candle flame crackling and the clock ticking slowly in the corner of the room.

Then the Grand Duke slowly stood up again, walking toward the large window behind him, looking out at the moonlit gardens below, his hands behind his back, and his face hard as stone.

"So even that didn't work," he muttered, more to himself than to the assistant. "Tch. And now… more eyes are watching."

The assistant, still standing stiffly, carefully asked, "Shall I prepare another team, my lord?"

But the Grand Duke raised a hand, stopping him without turning around.

"No," he said. "No more foolish moves for now."

He turned halfway toward the assistant, eyes sharp like a beast that smelled blood.

"I want you to double-check all records of unusual movement across the southern territories. Any mana fluctuations, unregistered adventurers, or forbidden item use—I want it all."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And start rechecking the Dravenhart vaults. If any fragments were moved, I want to know when, where, and by whom."

The assistant blinked. "You think… the fragments is involved?"

"I don't know," the Grand Duke muttered. "But I fear it. And we cannot afford another mistake. Not now."

After the assistant bowed and quietly left the study, the Grand Duke sat alone in the flickering candlelight, the heavy silence of the room pressing in from all sides.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment—only a few minutes of stillness—but when he opened them again, they slowly moved to the painting hanging on the wall to his right.

It was an old portrait, its frame polished but worn by time, showing two young boys standing side by side—one with striking red hair and deep red eyes that seemed to glow even through the paint, and the other with black hair as dark as midnight, his golden eyes shining like they held the weight of the world. A small label beneath the frame read: The Twin Flames of Dravenhart.

The Grand Duke stood up slowly, his coat falling around him with a soft rustle, and walked out of the study into the silent hallway beyond. The tall windows lining the corridor cast pale moonlight across the polished floors, and each of his steps echoed as he walked farther and farther—until he reached the end of the hallway, where an unassuming portrait of an old battlefield hung alone.

He stared at it for a moment before reaching forward and pulling the edge of the frame.

With a faint mechanical click, a section of the wall shifted inward, revealing a narrow stone passage and a steep stairway that led downward into the dark.

Without hesitation, the Grand Duke entered, the secret door sliding closed behind him with a quiet thud, sealing him away from the world above.

The stone steps spiraled down beneath the estate, deeper and deeper, until finally he reached a small chamber lit by blue crystal lamps embedded into the walls.

It was quiet here, but something was wrong—his eyes scanned the room quickly, and he noticed that the papers on the long stone table were no longer scattered the way he left them.

They were stacked. Neatly.

He frowned, walking quickly to the table. Then his gaze landed on the far corner—where a small black chest once sat, sealed with golden threads and a rune-lock no ordinary person could break.

It was open.

The Grand Duke's heart stopped for a second. He stepped toward it, slowly, as if unwilling to believe what he was seeing. Then he bent down and touched the edges.

Empty.

Completely empty.

The color drained from his face as he stared at the chest, his voice quiet but shaking with rage.

"I should have burned it... I should have destroyed it the moment it was brought here..." he muttered under his breath,

The Grand Duke didn't waste a second longer. He turned sharply footsteps echoing up the spiral stairs as he left the secret chamber, his mind racing and heart thudding with a cold mix of dread and anger.

Reaching the upper hall, he quickly made his way to another restricted wing of the estate, guarded with layers of silent protection spells and heavy locks only known to him.

At the very end of the hallway was a tall, ancient door carved with strange runes, nearly invisible to the untrained eye. He pressed his hand on it—no key, no lock—only blood would open this one.

With a sharp bite to his thumb, a drop of his blood fell to the stone floor.

The carvings shimmered, glowing red, and a faint rumble filled the hall. Slowly, the door slid open with a heavy groan, revealing a chamber that pulsed with old magic.

He stepped inside.

The Grand Duke treasure Vault and at its center was a raised platform where three stone pedestals stood evenly apart, forming a triangle.

From the floor between them, a faint blue glow began to rise as his blood's presence activated the mechanism.

One by one, three crystal-like stones emerged from the floor, hovering perfectly above the pedestals, each swirling with energy inside them—like a storm frozen in glass. They were unlike anything in the outside world. Pure, ancient, untouchable.

The Grand Duke stood there, holding the now-empty black chest in one hand, his eyes scanning the three floating fragments.

"They're… all here…" he whispered.

Each one floated quietly, glowing, untouched.

Then he looked down at the chest in his hands, still open, still empty.

"Out of all Fragments, Why Lucian's?!"