A modest wooden house stood on the quieter side of the city, its windows covered by dark curtains and its interior dimly lit by a single lamp. The place was simple, with a wooden table, a few chairs, and little else.
A lone man with a scar across his face sat at the table, calmly drinking tea. He wore nothing but a simple robe, his expression serious as he rested his chin against one hand.
Two shadows suddenly appeared behind him.
The man didn't bother raising his head.
“You're late.”
The two figures stepped forward, and one of them lowered his head. “We had unfinished business.”
“I don't like latecomers,” the scarred man said slowly.
A wisp of his aura spread through the room.
The two shadows immediately retreated before dropping to their knees, sweat running down their faces.
“It won't happen again,” they said simultaneously.
The scarred man finally raised his head.
“Next time, you'll leave your head behind.”
He calmly took another sip of tea.
“The target is moving tomorrow, and is being escorted by those annoying hunters. You are to kill both the target and the hunters while sending a message.”
One of the shadows looked up slightly. “What message?”
The scarred man slowly played with the cup in his hand.
“Write boldly on the target's body...” He paused. “The return of the Vikings.”
The room became silent.
The scarred man looked toward the covered window, his eyes distant as though remembering something from long ago.
“Let the whole hunting world know we are back.”
He turned his gaze toward the two shadows.
“The target is being escorted by an Elite Silver called Cherry and a Bronze Rank named Kael.”
He paused for a moment.
“Don't underestimate Kael. The news says he somehow survived an Elite Silver beast, so be careful. I don't want any mistakes. Do you understand?”
“Understood,” the shadows replied, their voices trembling.
“Don't bother coming back with any hint of failure,” the scarred man said as he took another sip of tea.
“Yes, sir.”
“Leave.”
The two shadows disappeared as silently as they had come.
The scarred man remained alone.
His fingers slowly tightened around the cup.
Crack.
The cup shattered in his hand.
He looked up, his eyes filled with anticipation.
“Tomorrow, the world will hear of the Vikings again.”
His aura suddenly erupted.
The small house began to shake violently, the wooden walls creaking under the pressure.
For the first time, the scarred man who the world would later come to know as Draken smiled.
A wide grin spread across his face.
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