Ben Daelthorn (Third Elder) POV
A Day Ago
The room was quiet, lit only by a few amber lights embedded in the ceiling.
A fireplace crackled gently at the far end, giving the space a soft warmth.
Ben Daelthorn leaned back in his leather chair.
He was the previous House Head of Daelthorn, and the current Eight Elder.
He had a youthful face for a man who was over hundred years old.
The sharp lines of his jaw were still strong, and his hair was a lush silver.
Across from him sat Magnus Daelthorn, the opposite in appearance.
His grey beard was thick. His knuckles gnarled from decades of battle.
There was no pretense in his presence, only raw, lingering power that had once dominated battlefields.
The thick scar running from his temple to his cheek told most of his story without needing words.
He was the Third Elder and one of the few Rank 5 Supernatural on Earth.
"Frank’s dead." Ben sighed, but his tone lacked even a hint of sadness.
"He was always going to end up like that." Magnus grunted.
"Still... it complicates things. No matter how much of a garbage he was, he carried the Daelthorn name."
Magnus reached for his drink, swirling it once before taking a long sip.
"We’ll have to make a move. We can’t have people thinking they can just kill someone from our bloodline and walk away," Ben said.
They had decided to hide the news that the Monkey King had eliminated Frank.
Instead, they would ’reveal’ Frank was betrayed and killed by mercenary group he had hired.
"We should target Black Vultures or the Southern Company. They’ve been causing problems in the States anyway," Magnus said.
The plan simple.
They would kill a few of the known criminal Supernaturals from the states.
By clearing the scumbags, they would send a message to not touch Daelthorn again.
"We’re really doing a cleanup job just because Frank got himself killed." Ben sighed. "I hate interfering in foreign territory. But if we let this go unanswered, the other Clans will start testing our boundaries."
They both sat in silence again.
The fire popped once in the background.
The mood in the room remained cold.
Ben set his glass down, letting the silence stretch again before he spoke.
"What do you think about Adrian being back?"
"You already know what I think. But it doesn’t matter now. The provisional head pushed too hard to bring Adrian back for his safety. We cannot execute him." Magnus grunted.
"She gave him that Awakening Pill too." Ben chuckled.
Liora had always been reckless.
But this time she had crossed the line.
"She just burned every bridge she had with the elders.
"There’s no way any elder will support her now. She can no longer inherit the house, and become the next house head.
"If anything, she will be punished when the House Head returns from Wageah," Magnus said.
"She’s clever though. The current House Head is a genius even by our standards.
"He’ll probably outlive his grandchildren. There is no way Liora could’ve become the next house head.
"So, she didn’t lose much. She just played her hand and bowed out before it mattered," Ben smirked.
"But she got Adrian back into the estate. That alone is enough to stir up everything."
There was a long pause, and then Ben leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"Speaking of talent, what do you think about the child?" Ben asked with a faint curiosity in his gaze.
"The daughter of the second born? She is still too young for us to judge her talent."
"Not her. I am talking about Adrian’s son."
Those words made Magnus pause.
In house, Daelthorn the only thing that mattered was strength.
For them, talking about the children with potential, and raising him in rare cases, was a good way to pass time.
"Adrian was the last child of the House Head. He inherited every ounce of potential of the House Head.
"So maybe his son could be another monster." Magnus admitted.
Ben stood up and walked to the small liquor cabinet at the side of the room, refilling Magnus’ glass.
He didn’t speak as he poured.
When he returned to his seat, he stared into the fire for a moment.
"Who do you think used Frank to get to Adrian?" Ben asked.
"....?"
"Frank was a coward. He wouldn’t have the courage to attack Adrian on his own. Someone from the elders must’ve helped him," Ben explained.
Magnus didn’t respond.
He just looked at Ben.
There was no need for words.
Both of them had already come to the same conclusion.
One of the elders had gone against the words of the House Head, and tried to kill Adrian.
Normally, it would be the House Head would follow the elders’ orders, but the current generation House Head’s strength changed that dynamics.
"Magnus, was it you who orchestrated everything?" Ben asked, his eyes turning grey, and dull.
"It was not me." Magnus replied.
"Is that so?" Ben nodded. His eyes returned to normal.
"...You believe me so easily?"
"Of course I do."
Ben laughed.
It matched his youthful face.
But Magnus’ expression remained serious.
Even among elders, Ben was quite dangerous. No one ever knew what was going through his head.
If the current House Head was the strongest Daelthorn, then Ben — the previous House Head — was the smartest House Head.
That made him more threatening than the current House Head.
...
MC’s POV
The hum of the private jet had faded into a low background vibration as we flew above the clouds, cutting through the atmosphere like a smooth blade.
No one spoke much after takeoff.
I leaned against the window, watching the sky change color slowly.
From the pale blue of afternoon to a dim orange.
Eventually, the pilot’s voice came on, announcing our descent.
Outside, I could make out the lights of a small airport glowing beneath the mountain shadows.
When we landed in Zurich, another car was already waiting for us on the tarmac.
It was a dark-colored sedan—black, or maybe a deep gray.
The engine barely made a sound as it idled.
We got in, and the car pulled away from the airport in silence.
The road ahead twisted through narrow mountain passes.
The city lights disappeared behind us quickly, replaced by the quiet of nature.
Pine trees grew taller as we climbed, and the air began to chill.
Mom kept her eyes on the passing trees.
Dad looked calm. He sat with arms crossed, and his gaze remained locked on the road ahead.
I stayed in the middle seat, hands tucked into my pockets.
Eventually, it turned into night.
The mountains loomed larger, glowing under the moonlight.
The landscape here felt untouched, as it was all forest.
We passed a sign written in German, then another that had no words at all—just a strange symbol etched into an old wooden board.
Then the car slowed.
We had reached a narrow path off the main road.
The vehicle pulled over to the side and stopped before a pair of tall, wrought-iron gates.
They looked old, but there wasn’t a speck of rust.
Thick vines coiled around the sides, but none crossed the bars.
It was almost like the plants had been trained to avoid the metal.
Waiting outside the gates was a man holding a lantern.
He was wearing a dark, buttoned-up coat with white gloves.
A classic butler’s uniform.
He bowed when he saw us.
"Welcome," he said. "Please follow me."
His voice was polite and calm, with a slight accent I couldn’t quite place. British, maybe, but softer.
"Stay close," Dad said, turning to look at me and Mom. "Hold hands, or we might get lost in there."
He picked me up before I could say anything.
"I can walk—" I started.
"Not tonight," he grinned.
So I stayed in his arms, arms folded across my chest in quiet protest as we followed the butler through the gate.
The path ahead was narrow, lined with trees that only grew denser the further we went in.
It was dark, but the butler’s lantern lit the area just enough to walk safely.
The light flickered every now and then, casting strange shadows across the forest floor.
And then the forest changed.
The trees started looking... wrong.
They were too tall, and too wide.
Some had trunks so thick that it would take a dozen people holding hands to wrap around them.
Their roots twisted unnaturally, and the branches curled like claws against the sky.
There was something else, too.
A few presences.
I didn’t see any creatures, but I could feel them.
Something ancient and dreadful stirred deeper in the woods.
At the same time, small motes of light began to appear.
They floated around us.
They circled me, Dad, and Mom in a loose spiral.
I looked ahead.
The butler walked steadily, the lantern in his hand swinging gently. The motes didn’t go near him.
"Why is he carrying a lantern?" I asked Dad.
Before he could answer, the butler chuckled softly without turning around.
"This forest tends to trap wanderers who enter it. Even experienced travelers have gone missing. The lantern is one of a few keys that can guide people safely through."
"So, it’s magic?"
"Not really. The lantern carries the will of the Spirit King who created this forest. And those who carry it are granted passage by the Spirits. It doesn’t use magic."
He slowed slightly and glanced back at Dad.
"Though... there are some people who don’t need a key. They can walk through the forest freely, as if it never meant to trap them."
Dad didn’t react.
He just kept walking.
I looked up at him, then back at the butler.
’So even among this place, there are rules and exceptions. And Dad... he’s the exception.’
It took us about half an hour to get through.
I could feel the shift the moment we stepped out of the forest.
My spatial sense, which had been dulled and pressured by the forest’s presence, suddenly cleared up.
There was a massive barrier around the estate. It was not visible to the naked eye, but I could feel the thick and multi-layered layer.
It was clever, too.
Even with my affinity for space magic, I could only leave from the inside.
Breaking into the barrier from the outside with portals wouldn’t work.
The forest opened up to a clearing, and beyond it stood enormous white gates.
The gates were clean, polished, and completely out of place in the middle of nowhere.
They were at least three stories tall, and wide enough to fit several trucks through at once.
Two guards stood in front.
At first, their expressions were serious, as they focused at their job.
But the moment they saw Dad, they stiffened.
One of them took a step back.
I didn’t miss that.
’Why are they so afraid of him?’