Unwritten Mythos

Shino let out a quiet sigh, his gaze distant as he thought about the latest messages from his parents. They were insistent that he return home, but he couldn't help feeling deeply frustrated. He was just six months away from graduating, and if he returned now, he'd have to repeat a year. The thought made him grimace. It would be a huge hassle.

Seventeen years old, Shino wasn't one for drama or distractions. He had no special hobbies or bad habits, and his academic performance was always stellar. In many ways, his life was simple. But the thought of his half-brother, Chino, complicated things.

Shino's parents had informed him recently that Chino had severed ties with the family and moved out on his own. His mother, particularly, spoke of Chino with a kind of disdain that lingered in the air. The last time she'd mentioned him, her voice had dripped with disgust as she remarked, "That boy reeks of something foul."

Shino shook his head. From childhood, he and Chino had never truly gotten along. Perhaps it was because they had different mothers, or maybe it was the constant tension their own mother stoked between them. Any time the two boys found common ground, their mother would intervene with sharp words, scolding Shino. She'd repeatedly warn him that Chino's existence was a threat, that he'd divide the family inheritance, take what rightfully belonged to Shino.

In his younger years, Shino had believed her without question. But as he matured, especially during his time abroad, his perspective shifted.

"We're still brothers, after all. When I go back, I should apologize to him…" Shino thought, feeling a growing sense of regret. Life is too short, and money, while important, wasn't everything. Time and again, people treat desire as truth, grasping for wealth as if it were the only path to happiness.

But Shino had begun to realize there were things far more precious. Family, for instance. Watching the closeness between brothers in other families, he couldn't help but reflect on what he had lost. If it hadn't been for his mother's constant manipulations, maybe he and Chino could have shared that bond. He longed for reconciliation, even as the weight of their years-long conflict loomed over him.

"I just hope we haven't cut ties completely…" he mused. His thoughts wandered as Fatty, his excitable classmate, continued to prattle on beside him.

Then, without warning, the earth beneath them quaked.

Rumble!

The ground cracked open, and with a deafening roar, the smooth road collapsed into a yawning chasm. Shino barely had time to react as the bus driver slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The bus plunged into the hole, sending everyone into chaos.

And above them, the sky was torn open by an angel, her body shrouded in a halo of wings. The magnificent creature had found her target—a Vampire lurking in the city's sewers. With a single, devastating motion, she ripped the earth apart, piercing through the reinforced concrete, and dragged the Vampire out from its hiding place.

Soaring into the heavens, the angel held the Vampire aloft, the sun's blazing light burning its flesh. The creature's skin sizzled, smoke rising as its body ignited in flames.

"Ahhhh!!!" the Vampire screamed in agony, writhing in the angel's grasp.

Moon, the angel, released her prey, watching as the flaming body plummeted toward the ground like a meteor. Before it could even strike the earth, the Vampire disintegrated into ash, leaving only a smoldering memory in its wake.

"A ninth-generation Vampire. Weak, pitiful," Moon muttered, brushing the remnants of the creature's ashes from her hand. "A mere shadow of the true ancestors."

The hierarchy of Vampires was well-known, and Moon had learned it intimately over time. Nine generations separated the most powerful from the weakest. The first generation, known as 008, the true ancestor, was unrivaled in ability. The second generation, the royals, retained much of that power, able to control blood and immune to sunlight's deadly kiss. The third generation, the dukes, were still formidable, but each generation down was a weaker reflection of the one before.

By the time one reached the barons, knights, and blood slaves, they were barely Vampires at all. Blood slaves, in particular, lived in a miserable state—vulnerable to sunlight, devoid of special abilities, and constantly on the verge of madness from bloodthirst.

"They don't have the life of a Vampire," Moon whispered to herself, "just the curse of it."

...

Moon searched for any trace of the hidden Vampires, but all leads seemed to vanish like whispers in the wind. The silence from the Vampires was unsettling, and Moon couldn't determine if a traitor was hiding in their midst or if they had simply gone underground. Her efforts led her to one unfortunate lead: a blood slave.

This pitiful creature had once been a vagrant, a nobody transformed by a careless blood knight who had drunkenly indulged in too much bloodlust. The slave had no useful information, no knowledge of the Vampire's secrets, and no understanding of the forces at play.

In her frustration, Moon did what came naturally. She ended the blood slave's miserable existence.

But her actions caused far more than just a death. As her wings unfurled, she tore through the ground with such force that the earth split open beneath her. A massive crater formed, swallowing cars and collapsing the road into chaos. Vehicles crashed into the pit, metal shrieking and twisting. Panic erupted on the streets.

Those who weren't caught in the destruction stared in awe, pulling out their phones to capture what they could of the spectacle. Flash after flash illuminated the night, but none could fully capture her form—just the vast, tangled mass of wings stretching across the sky. To the bystanders, there was only one explanation for what they saw: an angel.

Moon's image, as chaotic and divine as it appeared, spread across the internet like wildfire. Some hailed her as a messenger from God, sent to purge the earth of evil. After all, she had slain a Vampire, right in front of their eyes. In their minds, Moon was a divine warrior sent to cleanse the world of darkness.

But there were skeptics. Many pointed out the carnage that followed in her wake. She had not only killed a Vampire, but countless innocent people as well. Was this the act of a divine being? Could someone who caused such destruction truly be an angel?

"If this is an angel," they said, "then humanity does not need saving by God."

The photos and the debate they sparked soon reached the hidden enclaves of Vampires still living in human society. They, too, took notice.

...

On a quiet street, as the darkness of night settled in, a man stepped into a dimly lit bar. He ordered a glass of whiskey, his eyes scanning the room with careful precision. At the bar, a handsome man sat alone, nursing a drink, while a few women fluttered around him, vying for his attention.

The newcomer lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag before speaking, his voice low and casual. "You've been keeping a lower profile lately."

The handsome man didn't bother to turn his head, still sipping his drink. "You mean the angel?"

"You saw it too?"

"I've heard the rumors. They say the GPA released her."

The man with the cigarette scoffed, "Do they even have the power for that?"

"I don't know," the handsome man replied, his tone unbothered, but his words carried weight. "But her destructive power... that's not something we can resist. Not even close."

There was a brief silence as the two men mulled over the thought. Finally, the newcomer leaned in, his voice just above a whisper. "What does the True Ancestor say about all this?"

The handsome man's lips curved into a slight, knowing smile. "He said he's craving something sweet... a dessert."