Adrian walked past Nisha and didn’t look back.
He stepped out of the mansion and entered the car waiting outside.
The streets were empty. The city lights reflected on the windshield.
He drove through the silent night.
It didn’t take long to reach the airport.
Security waved him through without a word. They had been informed of his visit already.
The private jet was already prepped, lights on, engines humming softly. A young steward nodded at him as he climbed aboard.
"Where to, sir?"
"Geneva."
No more needed to be said.
The jet took off minutes later, and Adrian stared out the window for most of the flight. He didn’t sleep.
When they landed, another car was waiting for him.
It was a dark-colored sedan, unmarked and well-maintained.
The driver didn’t ask questions when Adrian took the wheel himself.
The road twisted through mountain passes, winding its way toward the Swiss Alps.
The air grew colder.
The mountains stood tall in the moonlight, blanketed in silence.
Eventually, Adrian reached a narrow path and pulled over before a pair of towering, wrought-iron gates.
Beyond that was a wall of trees.
A forest.
For normal people, it was a simple forest.
However, those in the supernatural world knew the truth.
[The Whispering Veil].
It wasn’t a name known by tourists or printed on maps.
It was an old name passed down among the supernaturals.
This forest housed strange, whimsical spirits.
These spirits were guardians of the forest and the reason it gained the name [The Whispering Veil].
They would create illusions, twist one’s perception of direction, and toy with their mind.
Stray wanderers who entered the forest would be guided out gently, if they meant no harm.
But if someone entered with ill will, they’d find themselves devoured by the monsters lurking deeper in.
And in the heart of the [The Whispering Veil] stood House Daelthorn’s estate.
The [The Whispering Veil] had protected the estate for centuries.
It hadn’t been breached even once since it was created. Because the forest never allowed enemies to reach it.
Adrian stepped through the gates and entered the woods.
His dull, grey eyes watched the trees with detachment, and his boots didn’t make a sound on the moss-covered ground.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then, the air shimmered.
Soft motes of light flickered around him like distant fireflies, dancing between the branches and whispering.
"Is it Adrian?"
"Adrian came back!"
"Adrian is not allowed to come back."
"Adrian should turn back."
"Adrian isn’t allowed to return to the main house!"
The voices overlapped in a dizzying blend, like a chaotic orchestra tuning their instruments all at once.
Adrian didn’t stop walking.
"I want to go to the main house," he said.
The voices fell silent.
"Can you lead the way?" he asked.
The light-motes pulsed erratically.
"No!"
"Go back!"
"You must leave!"
"You are not allowed!"
"Go back!"
They refused him, but one timid, flickering mote near his shoulder hesitated.
"I... I’ll show the way."
"Thank you."
The spirits suddenly felt silence.
Then, a moment later, chaos erupted.
"Did he say thank you?!"
"He thanked us!"
"No, he thanked me!"
"He did!"
"Adrian said thank you!"
"Make a path! Make a path!"
"Adrian will thank us if we help him!"
"Make a path!"
Dozens of spirits fluttered into a frenzy, spiraling through the branches like a storm of light and sound.
The trees shifted.
The fog rolled away from a narrow trail that hadn’t been there moments before.
Adrian kept walking, guided by glowing motes dancing along the path like excited children.
...
A few miles ahead, near the estate perimeter, two guards stood at their post.
Their uniforms bore the crest of House Daelthorn: a stylized silver serpent coiled around a black sword.
Behind them loomed the mansion gates, massive and reinforced.
Both guards were Rank 1. They were quite strong by ordinary standards.
They were trained, disciplined, and completely unaware that today would not be ordinary.
The older one squinted into the trees.
"Did you feel that?"
"Yeah. The spirits are restless today for some reason."
Then they saw him.
A man emerged from the tree line.
His wore a dark coat, and walked with an unreadable expression.
Dozens of invisible spirits stirred the air behind him, sending faint ripples across the invisible barrier protecting the estate.
"Who is that?" the younger guard whispered. "Was someone scheduled to visit?"
The spirits went back into the forest.
The man came to a stop before the gate.
The guards tensed, hands drifting toward the hilts at their sides.
They noticed the sword at Adrian’s waist.
"State your name and reason for visit," the senior one called out.
"I’m here to meet the head of the house," Adrian replied evenly.
The guards frowned.
No outsider spoke about the head of Daelthorn so brazenly, even if they were led here by the spirits.
The younger guard unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Adrian.
"You have no visible aura. If you’re a supernatural, you’re barely Rank 0. How dare someone like you talk about the Head like that? Apologize now, or I’ll break your legs!"
Adrian looked at the guard, then at the gate behind him.
"This is a waste of time. I’ll go meet him myself."
"Stop—"
The younger guard was about to use force when his voice suddenly turned to a scream.
His hand had been severed at the shoulder.
Blood splattered the ground.
The other guard was shocked.
He quickly rushed forward at Adrian, blade drawn.
His expression was full of certainty. His confidence was backed by his training and rank.
Adrian’s first attack had taken them by surprise. It worked because it was an ambush.
But now that they knew he was an enemy, his ambush wouldn’t work.
"Put your sword down! Or else—"
The second guard’s hand hit the dirt before he even realized it was gone.
None of the two guards had seen Adrian move.
They were now writhing on ground. Their expressions were twisted in pain.
Adrian glanced at them and stepped past their bodies.
He ignored their agonized screams and entered a code into the gate’s keypad.
A soft beep followed.
The gates opened.
More guards were already gathering ahead, alerted by the commotion.
They lined the inner courtyard in defensive formation, armed and clearly ready to intercept the intruder.
"I’m Adrian Daelthorn. The fifth born of the Sword Sage," he said. "I’ve come to meet my father. Anyone who tries to stop me will face consequences."
No one moved.
He looked at them with the same dull, grey eyes that hadn’t changed since he first stepped foot into the forest.
Then he walked forward.
The moment the first guard attacked, his dominant hand was cut off at the shoulder.
Another tried to circle behind him. His sword flew from his grip before his hand even registered the pain.
No one could see the moment Adrian struck.
It was as if stepping within one meter of him sealed their fate. It didn’t matter how fast they were.
It didn’t matter how much Aura they used.
They lost limbs all the same.
A pool of blood began to stain the stone path, but not a single drop touched Adrian.
He stopped just before the main doors of the mansion.
A butler stood there, waiting.
He bowed deeply.
"It’s good to see you, Young Master Adrian. It’s been a long time since we met."
Adrian said nothing.
The butler looked up slowly.
"I must apologize, young master... but I cannot permit you to enter without the provisional head’s permission."
Adrian stared at him for a moment. Then he said a single word, "Move."
Intense fear washed over the butler.
He felt as if he was being looked at by a monster.
The butler paled.
He was Rank 3, powerful enough to be called an elite in the society, and Adrian was a cripple.
Still, the butler couldn’t stop trembling.
"Y-Young Master Adrian—"
Adrian moved his hand, drawing his blade halfway toward the butler’s shoulder.
His sword draw speed was so fast that only a Rank 3 like the butler could see it.
But Adrian stopped.
Three swords were suddenly at his neck.
A patchy-bearded middle-aged man stood on one side. A teenage girl, sharp-eyed and cold, stood on the other. And between them, a boy no older than fifteen.
They pointed their swords at Adrian.
The boy’s eyes—grey, dull, and empty—locked onto Adrian’s.
"Who are you and how dare you attack our guards?" the boy barked. "Do you have a death wish—!?"
Lucas flinched when Adrian looked at him, and his mouth closed on its own.
Lucas’ grey eyes dimmed, the power within them retracting suddenly as if suppressed by something far stronger.
The girl narrowed her eyes.
"Why do you have the [Hollow Eyes] of House Daelthorn?"
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