The sun rose over the sprawling city of Vasili, painting the stone towers in warm gold. Abba stretched lazily on the balcony of the inn, crimson eyes tracing the horizon. His mind, however, was elsewhere—on a debt he had once made, long ago, and had now come due.
"Trisha," he called, voice light, teasing as always, "pack your things. We're leaving Vasili today."
Trisha's chest tightened. She had grown comfortable in the city, proud of her progress with Flash Steps and mana control. But there was a thrill in the unknown that called to her, and the way Abba's presence radiated authority made hesitation impossible. "Where… where are we going?"
Abba's lips curled in a faint smile. "A friend. Or a rather… intimidating friend. Fenrir, the Werewolf Lord. I owe him a debt, you see. Long story, but a bet lost, and a debt must be repaid. We'll be traveling for three weeks to reach his territory."
Trisha's heart skipped a beat. The tales she had heard of the werewolf clans were enough to make any commoner nervous, yet she met Abba's gaze. "And… you're sure nothing bad will happen?"
"Nothing that I cannot handle," he said with a teasing smile. "And nothing that would harm you either. Unless, of course, you insist on getting in trouble yourself."
Her lips pressed into a determined line. "I'll follow your lead."
The streets of Vasili slowly awakened behind them as they left the city, the distant hum of human life fading into the vast wilderness that stretched before them. The land beyond Vasili was untamed—rolling plains, thick forests, and jagged mountains. Trisha had expected a leisurely journey, but Abba's pace was brisk, precise, and utterly comfortable despite the length of the days.
"Your Flash Steps technique," Abba said, glancing at her as they moved through a narrow forest path, "is improving. But remember, technique alone does not make you fast or powerful. Mana must flow like water, and your mind must flow with it. Focus, anticipate, and never hesitate."
Trisha nodded, concentrating. The forest was alive with magic—ambient mana in the trees, the scent of earth and leaves infused with latent energy. She moved lightly, spreading mana from her hips to toes, gliding over roots and rocks with increasing fluidity.
"Better," Abba murmured. "By the time we meet Fenrir, you'll move faster than even his scouts can track. Perhaps you'll impress him enough not to test me first."
Her lips twitched into a smile. "I… hope I can."
Three days into their journey, as the sun was dipping toward the horizon, a group of bandits emerged from the trees. Rusted weapons in hand, eyes glinting with greed, they surrounded the pair.
"Hand over your valuables!" the leader shouted, a sneer curling his lips.
Abba tilted his head lazily. "Oh? And why should I do that?" His voice was light, teasing, yet the aura he emitted rippled through the forest like a wave of authority. Shadows stretched and coiled around him, subtle yet commanding.
The bandits froze, unease creeping into their expressions. Still, desperation drove them forward. One lunged, swinging a crude sword toward Trisha.
"Step!" Abba commanded softly.
Trisha spread mana evenly through her legs, using Flash Steps to evade. Her movement was precise, controlled, and faster than her eyes could follow. The bandit's attack barely grazed her shoulder.
Abba stepped forward, hand lazily flicking. A wave of mana surged, sending the bandits sprawling. Not one was seriously injured, but all were left trembling, painfully aware of the sheer dominance of the vampire lord before them.
"Lesson," Abba said, voice teasing, "never underestimate those who walk the shadows… or those who move faster than the eye sees."
Trisha laughed softly, heart pounding. "I… I think I understand now. It's not just speed… it's confidence too."
"Exactly," Abba said with a faint smile. "Control, presence, and mastery—of body and mind. Now, let's continue. Fenrir is waiting."
A week into their journey, while crossing a mountain pass, they heard a sudden roar—piercing, raw, and filled with wild power. From the cliffs above, a pair of young dragons lunged toward them, scales glinting in the sunlight.
"Stay calm," Abba murmured. "These are young, inexperienced… but strong. Let me show you how the world respects power."
The dragons descended, claws extended. Trisha instinctively prepared to cast a fireball, but Abba's hand waved lightly. Shadows curled around him like liquid night, coiling toward the dragons. With a single, fluid motion, his aura surged. The dragons froze mid-flight, eyes wide in terror. One faltered, spinning backward to retreat. The other hovered uncertainly, then, with a series of sharp commands from Abba's voice—soft, commanding—it landed carefully, subdued yet unharmed.
Trisha's jaw dropped. "How… how do you do that?"
Abba's crimson eyes glittered with amusement. "Not cruelty, control. Fear can be as powerful a teacher as pain. And now, young dragons will remember who commands respect."
He turned to her, voice teasing. "And you… watched, yes? Learn how presence can bend even the wildest of forces to your will."
Trisha nodded, heart pounding, her admiration deepening. "I… I want to be able to do that someday."
"You will," Abba said softly. "But first, mastery over yourself. The world reacts to the confident, the strong, and the aware. Your magic, your Flash Steps… all tools to shape reality. Never forget that."
Ten days into their journey, while crossing a misty valley, a group of minor demons emerged—lurid, writhing, and malevolent. They hissed and charged, eyes glowing with malice.
Abba's lips curled into a faint, teasing smile. "Ah… our final lesson on this path before Fenrir. Trisha, watch and learn."
As the demons lunged, Trisha spread mana through her legs, moving fluidly with Flash Steps, evading attacks and countering with controlled bursts of magic. Abba moved beside her, his presence overwhelming. Shadows struck, flames of hellfire ignited from his palms, and mental manipulation subtly warped the demons' instincts. Within moments, the creatures were incapacitated, fleeing or collapsing in submission.
Trisha's eyes widened in awe. "I… I've never seen anything like that."
Abba's voice was soft, teasing, yet authoritative. "This is why power must be tempered with control. Anger, fear, and malice are weapons… but without precision, they are wasted."
That evening, as they camped under the stars, Trisha hesitated before speaking. "Abba… you mentioned Fenrir is one of the first creations… and that you have… brothers and sisters. Are they… dangerous?"
Abba's crimson eyes glimmered faintly in the firelight. "They are not threats… not to me, and certainly not to you. My siblings—the myths, as mortals call them—are strong, ancient, and sometimes… temperamental. Each has their own domains, their own rules. We share bonds, rivalries, laughter, and occasional arguments. The world sees them as legends, and in many ways… they are. But nothing will harm you, Trisha. I ensure it."
She swallowed nervously. "Even with Fenrir?"
Abba reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Even with Fenrir," he said softly. "You are with me. And I have never failed to protect those I care for."
Her pulse quickened, a mixture of fear, excitement, and admiration flooding her chest. "I… I trust you."
"Good," he murmured, crimson eyes gleaming with amusement and warmth. "Three more days, Trisha. And we'll reach the werewolf lord. But remember… the journey is as important as the destination. Every step, every battle, every encounter… shapes you. And I will guide you through all of it."
Trisha nodded, heart steadying. The stars above Vasili, the distant mountains, and the winding forests—they were all part of her dream, and now, she was no longer just an observer.
With Abba by her side, the impossible felt attainable, and the road ahead promised growth, adventure, and lessons in power, presence, and life itself.
The moment Aba crossed the mist-shrouded forest, an ancient pressure stirred across Gaia. The air grew heavy, the wind trembled, and even the sky seemed to pause its breath. Deep within the northern mountains, an old friend had awakened — his golden eyes opening with a knowing grin.
High atop a cliff, where frost licked the stone and moonlight painted everything in silver, stood a towering figure. His hair was like a waterfall of ash, his shoulders broad enough to bear the weight of the sky itself. When he smiled, the air rippled with power.
"So," the man muttered, baring his teeth. "The lazy bloodsucker finally stirs."
From the opposite side of the valley, Aba stepped into view — calm, unhurried, his hands in his pockets, the same detached smile on his lips. The air around him shimmered faintly red, like the breath of a slumbering storm.
"Still as loud as ever, Fenrir," Aba said coolly. "I could hear you from miles away. You sure you're not part thunder beast?"
Fenrir's laughter thundered across the mountains. "And you're still as arrogant as when I last saw you. Tell me, old friend, did you come to nap in my territory again?"
Aba smiled faintly, tilting his head. "No. I came to repay a debt."
That single statement froze the winds. Fenrir's grin widened.
"Then show me you still remember how to fight, Vampire."
Aba's crimson eyes flickered once, amused. "You sure you want that, mutt?"
"Try me!"
Without another word, the world erupted. Both beings vanished from sight, the ground beneath them shattering like glass. For a heartbeat, there was only silence — then a surge of divine mana exploded outward, splitting the clouds and warping the heavens themselves.
Aba's voice, calm and chilling, whispered through the air:
"Divine Sanctuary: Blood Abyss."
Fenrir's roar followed, wild and untamed:
"Divine Sanctuary: Death's Hound!"
Reality cracked.
The world around Trisha distorted — the forest dissolving into an ocean of chaos. She gasped, clutching her chest as mana raged through the atmosphere. The air smelled of blood and moonlight.
When her vision steadied, she was standing at the border of two worlds.
To her left, the earth had turned crimson — rivers of blood roared beneath skies painted in scarlet storms. Mountains pulsed like veins, and in the distance, crimson serpents of liquid essence coiled around bleeding suns.
To her right, everything was white and cold — a wasteland of bones and silent ruins beneath an enormous, ghostly moon. Thousands of howling spirits roamed the air, kneeling in reverence to the one who stood at their center.
Aba's side and Fenrir's side — two realms of divinity, clashing.
Trisha's voice trembled. "What… what is this place?"
Aba, standing before her, turned with a faint smile. His expression was unreadable — serene, dangerous, and godlike.
"This," he said softly, "is a Divine Sanctuary. A realm where immortals wage war. Watch carefully, Trisha. Few mortals have ever seen one, and fewer still have lived to tell the tale."
Before she could answer, both vanished.
The next instant, the sky itself screamed.
Aba's form flickered through the red mists — his movement fluid, a blur of grace and death. Fenrir met him head-on, his body radiating silver light, claws glowing with lunar fire. Their collision tore through the air like a cataclysm.
Every strike sent shockwaves across dimensions. The Blood Abyss boiled, and the Death's Hound plains fractured beneath their power.
"Still moving like a lazy noble, Aba!" Fenrir roared, swinging a clawed arm that split the air.
Aba ducked under it effortlessly, appearing behind him. "Still fighting like a beast, Fenrir."
He flicked his fingers — and the world bled.
From every droplet of blood, blades formed, spinning in a spiral storm that swallowed the werewolf whole. Fenrir howled, his body glowing white-hot as he countered with his own divine might. Lunar energy burst from his chest, shattering the bloodstorm in a single explosion that bent space itself.
Trisha covered her eyes, unable to bear the radiance. Her heart raced as she felt the divine pressure crawl over her skin like living fire.
Fenrir leaped, shattering the ground. Aba remained still, smiling faintly.
"Don't go dying too soon," Aba murmured, his voice echoing through the distorted world. "I just woke up."
"Dream on!" Fenrir bellowed, slamming down from above.
Aba raised his hand lazily, his eyes glowing crimson. "Forbidden Mana: Crimson Dominion."
The entire Blood Abyss responded. The air condensed into liquid scarlet light, crashing upward in an explosion that swallowed Fenrir whole. For a moment, the wolf lord disappeared — then burst out of the sea of blood, laughing wildly, his entire body drenched and smoking with divine energy.
"STILL TOO STRONG!" he howled. "DAMN YOU, ABA!"
Aba smirked. "You lose again, Fenrir."
Their final collision shook the heavens. When it ended, both stood upon the torn boundary between their realms. Fenrir was on one knee, his breath heavy, blood staining his arm. Aba, untouched, dusted off his coat with mild amusement.
"Still strong as hell," Fenrir muttered, panting. "You sleep for millennia and wake up stronger. It's infuriating."
Aba chuckled. "You should try it sometime."
Fenrir grinned, shaking his head. "You bastard."
Their laughter echoed through the dying light as the Divine Sanctuary dissolved. The crimson and bone worlds faded, returning to the quiet mountainside as if nothing had ever happened.
When the air cleared, Trisha finally dared to breathe. Her heart was pounding, her legs trembling. What she had witnessed was not a duel — it was creation and destruction dancing in harmony.
"Was that… truly just sparring?" she whispered.
Aba smirked faintly. "If we were serious, Gaia would've split in two."
Fenrir's laughter boomed once again. "Come, Vampire! You owe me that drink you promised a thousand years ago!"
With that, the towering werewolf turned toward the cliffs, his long stride carrying him toward a massive gate carved into the heart of the mountain.
When they entered, Trisha froze.
It wasn't a lair. It was a dream.
Inside the mountain was a palace that defied the imagination. Giant arches carved from obsidian and moonstone reached skyward, their edges etched with glowing silver runes. The walls shimmered like a starry night — embedded with countless soul crystals that hummed in resonance.
The ceiling was a masterpiece of illusionary magic — an eternal night sky with an enormous full moon that bathed the halls in gentle luminescence. Silver rivers flowed across the floor like living streams, winding between marble pathways lined with pale blue flowers that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
At the heart of the palace, an enormous crystal tree rose — its branches weaving into the ceiling like a web of light. Its leaves shimmered between silver and white, softly falling into pools of luminous water below.
Trisha couldn't even breathe. "This… this is Fenrir's palace?"
Aba nodded, his expression gentler than usual. "Beautiful, isn't it? The Fairy Matriarch helped him shape it. Every crystal here hums with her blessing. It's the purest moon essence in all of Gaia."
Fenrir turned, grinning proudly. "Aye! Took me five centuries to convince that woman I wasn't going to use her creations as chew toys."
Aba chuckled. "You're still as persistent as ever."
The great wolf lord threw his arm around Aba's shoulder, laughing thunderously. "And you're still too damn calm for your own good."
Trisha smiled faintly, watching the two — gods disguised as men — laugh like old friends.
Every creature in the palace bowed as they entered. The aura that radiated from both beings was divine, their presence enough to make the air vibrate. And yet, their conversation was easy, filled with warmth and teasing — two immortals sharing a bond that had survived eternity.
Trisha could hardly believe what she was witnessing. Here stood beings who could destroy the world with a gesture — and yet they laughed, argued, and lived as if they were simply brothers.
She realized, then, that Aba was far more than just powerful. Beneath that lazy smile and teasing tone lay an existence that transcended everything she knew.
And as she stood amidst the radiant halls of Fenrir's palace, she whispered to herself,
"What kind of world have I stepped into?"
Aba turned slightly, as though hearing her thought, and smiled.
"Welcome to Gaia, little mage," he said softly. "The real one."