Milan, Italy—a city revered for its culture, economy, fashion, and sports—stood as a monument to history and nobility.
Among its ancient streets and modern grandeur lay the estates of the elite, silent witnesses to the legacies of past generations.
They lived beautiful and noble lives.
In a high-class office adorned with imposing grandeur, Paolo Blandelli—a man in his 30s with strikingly defined features and a physique reminiscent of Michelangelo's David—glanced up as the door swung open.
Dressed in a slightly unbuttoned suit, his stance was relaxed yet authoritative.
[The commander-in-chief of the [Copper Black Cross] in Milan and head of the Blandelli family. Also, he held the title of 'Diovo Rosso' The Red Devil: Paolo Blandelli.]
His sharp gaze landed on the man sitting behind his desk.
"What's brought you here, Lord Kranjar?" Paolo's voice was easy, yet carried an unshakable weight.
Despite their rivalry, he was never one for excessive formalities.
Stepping inside with effortless grace.
The strong man with medium-length, tousled silver hair and striking light blue eyes sat calmly, sipping coffee.
A slight smirk touched his lips, and his fair complexion enhanced his noble demeanor. He exuded elegance and authority that matched Paolo's.
"No need for formalities, old friend," The man replied smoothly, his silver eyes glinting with mischief. "I simply came to check in—and also, I came with my daughter Liliana, to meet your niece, Erica."
[The commander-in-chief of the Bronze Black Cross and head of the Kranjar family—Falco d'Argento, the Silver Falcon; Lucas Kranjar]
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Through the large window behind them, the two girls could be seen sparring in the courtyard.
Their wooden swords clashed with sharp, disciplined movements, showing the promise of warriors in their prime.
Though the Copper and Bronze Black Cross rivalry had lasted generations, Paolo and Lucas had forged a unique bond, closer to friendship than enmity.
Paolo studied Lucas with measured skepticism before turning fully toward him.
"My injuries from the Black Prince have healed," he stated, observing his old rival.
In the year 2002, the birth of a new generation of Campione began in London. Alexandre Gaustine founded his organization and declared his intentions to take territories, items, and information related to the Holy Grail.
The other organizations in Europe were alarmed, and disputes broke out. Princess Alice asked for protection from two organizations in Milan—Paolo's and Lucas's.
This dispute caused uproar in the supernatural world as someone fought a campione.
In the end, the fight ended, and the organization went to talk for negotiate of ceasefire to Alexandre.
Everyone knows who is the winner of this dispute was which cause of Witengamot gave him the title of the [Black Prince].
Of course, for the one who challenged and fought, the Campione gained the respect and admiration of everyone.
They give them a title:
[The Diovo Rosso(Red Devil) and Falco d'Argento(Silver Falcon)].
"But I doubt you came just for pleasantries. What's really on your mind?"
Lucas took a slow sip of coffee, his expression unreadable. "Always straight to the point, Paolo. Very well—I heard about the meeting from Diana."
Lucas had missed the meeting due to an urgent mission, so Diana had attended in his stead
Paolo's brow lifted in mild surprise, though he had anticipated this.
"So you now know, what about it. "
Lucas nodded. "I just can't believe hearing about that report that something interesting happened to Valeria's teritory, and I want to hear your thoughts on this 'new king'."
At that, Paolo's expression darkened slightly.
He set down his glass with a quiet clink, the weight of his response hanging in the air.
"He's a monster."
"That." Lucas was surprise for a moment but he gain his calm and his lips curled slightly in understanding.
Hearing from Paolo's recognition without doubt he is a 'monster'.
That word carried a very specific meaning in their world.
'A Monster'—someone whose very existence reshaped boundaries and redefined strength.
This wasn't a title given lightly, but it was for those who had transcended genius, entering a realm where hard work alone couldn't measure up.
Only a select few had ever earned that title—Marquis Voban, Her Eminence Luo Hao, Holy Maiden Madame Aisha, and the rising generation of Campione, Black Prince Alec, and John Pluto Smith.
Even Paolo and Lucas, as leaders of two of Italy's most powerful magical organizations, knew they could never compare to such beings.
Despite their formidable reputations, Paolo and Lucas knew that even their lifelong achievements couldn't rival these rare beings.
Especially Paolo and Lucas experienced that as he fought the Black Prince before, as they gained them the title of [Diovo Rosso & Falco d'Argento]
[A/n: Just adding more title]
Monsters who could take on gods.
Paolo continued, his tone edged with reluctant admiration.
"This red-haired king—at such a young age, he's achieved the impossible. His reach, aura, swordsmanship, and magic… they're unlike anything I've ever seen at his age. It's as if every movement speaks a different, unspoken language."
Lucas leaned back, intrigued. "Hoh..
"But?" Paolo exhaled. "His inexperience in battle is evident… his magic power and the relics he wields compensate for everything."
Paolo begun to ask question back to Lucas, "Did Diana manage to identify the nature of his magic?"
"She believes it's a rare spatial-class, myth-level spell from the age of God," Lucas replied, his tone serious.
A long pause settled between them, heavy with the unspoken reality of what this meant.
A Campione with that level of power, emerging so suddenly, was not just a power shift—it was a shift in fate.
Finally, Paolo broke the silence. "So, what would you do if you met him, Lucas?"
Lucas placed his cup down with deliberate ease, a slow smirk forming on his lips. "Hmm... Recruiting him is impossible. But forming a friendly connection and possibly gaining his protection might be beneficial. I might even introduce him to my daughter."
"Do you know what you're saying, Lucas?" Paolo's eyebrow twitched.
"Yes, I do. According to the report, his appearance can be around as my daughter's, so why not? A bond formed through youth might make it easier to establish trust and strengthen future alliances. Given his growing influence and potential, any connection to him—even through personal ties—could benefit my organization greatly," Lucas answered seriously.
"How about the feelings of your daughter?"
"Of course, my daughter's well-being is my foremost concern,"
His silver eyes gleamed with anticipation, the thrill of a new challenge sparking within him.
He met Paolo's gaze and returned the question.
"And you?"
"...Erica is my niece and my only relative. I will support her wherever she chooses to." Paolo kindly smiled, replied while simply staring out the window, looking at his niece.
*RING!*
Suddenly, the telephone on Paolo's desk rang, breaking the conversation.
Paolo picked it up and answered with a sharp, "Blandelli speaking."
He listened intently, his expression gradually releasing a sigh of relief. "Understood. Thank you for informing me."
Lucas, narrowing his eyes, spoke up. "What happened? That look on your face—it seems something happened?"
Paolo leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp.
"It was from one of my external intelligence agents. The Holy Cult of the Five Mountains has just left this country."
Lucas raised a brow. "Ah, The Cult? Thank you, it would be great if they had already left. So did they find something?"
Paolo shook his head, "Who knows? They just request detailed information and join the investigation on the battlefield in Mt. Etna regarding the red-haired king."
Lucas's expression kinda funny imagining something "Poor Valeria. Im sure she was stressed out with her paperwork works adding more of that. That's strange. They usually don't bother with foreign affairs in the European unless it concerns their direct interests."
Both men expected all organizations around the globe to request some summary information regarding this incident.
However, what they didnt expect was this.
This Organization in any matter was rarely simple. And yet, this request from her cult was to join the investigation and take the full information regarding the battle.
Valeria went along with their request, who in their right mind to refuse them, as the owner of that organization is one of the Campione in this world.
"What could they want from him?" Lucas whispered as his eyes narrowed with full curiosity.
"..."
Paolo said nothing, staring out the window as the two children continued to spar in the garden below.
The air in the room grew tense.
Their conversation lingered in silence.
For now, it remained a question without an answer.
-------------------------------------------
The house was alive with movement—boxes shuffled, books stacked, furniture scraped across the floor with small groans. Dust hung in the air like glitter, swirling in golden beams of afternoon sunlight that poured through wide-open windows.
It was general cleaning day.
And in the middle of it all was a five-year-old kid, a tiny explorer armed with boundless curiosity and mismatched socks. His parents moved around the living room, carrying old things and chatting about where to put what, but the little kid had found a more important mission: investigating a forgotten shelf tucked behind a tall cabinet.
"Oof—careful with that one," The father grunted, adjusting the cabinet back into place.
His mother sighed, brushing her bangs back. "I should've cleaned this room years ago. Half of these boxes are from the father-in-law. "
"Maybe older than me," her husband joked, wiping his brow.
Asahi, meanwhile, crouched low to the floor.
His little fingers brushed against something tucked away—a dusty wooden box. Curious, he opened it with effort, the lid creaking on rusty hinges.
Inside: old postcards and curled photographs of two person.
"Ohh"
His eyes sparkled.
He reached in and pulled out a postcard—a weathered image of a crumbling watchtower standing alone on a cliff, its stones bathed in the warm colors of a dying sun.
Before he could say anything, strong arms lifted him high into the air.
"Caught you, little adventurer," his dad chuckled, hoisting him up with ease. "What treasure did you find this time?"
Asahi grinned, waving the card. "A picture!"
His father's gaze landed on the image, and a nostalgic smile slowly crept across his face. "Oh…This box and that tower."
His mother came over, curious. "Is that…?"
He handed it to her.
"Sardinia," she confirmed, eyes softening. "The watchtower."
"That place," his dad added meaningfully, nudging her lightly with his elbow.
She blushed. "Its bring back memories of your proposal."
Asahi blinked between them. "Pro-po… what?"
His dad grinned. "Where I asked your beautiful mother to marry me."
"Oh no…" she groaned with a laugh. "You're going to tell the whole story again, aren't you?"
"You love it when I do," he teased, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her a little closer. "Come on. You almost said no because I nearly dropped the ring over the cliff—remember?"
"You did drop it," she corrected, smirking.
"It rolled dramatically!" he defended. "Very cinematic."
"You panicked, tried to jump off, and dove face-first into the grass."
"Romantically."
She giggled, leaning into his chest. "It was a mess."
"But you said yes," he said, looking down at her. "Eventually."
Little Asahi watched them blinkingly, the postcard slowly drooping in his small hand.
"Wait… mommy, did you say yes because he was handsome?" he asked.
"No," she said, deadpan.
"Yes," his dad said at the same time.
She laughed and gave him a playful shove, which he turned into an opportunity to pull her even closer.
"You know," he whispered just loud enough for Asahi to hear, "if we ever go back, if we ever go back, I might propose to you all over again… but this time with less grass in my mouth."
She laughed, nudging him. "As long as you don't drop the ring again."
"Only if you promise to kiss me under the sunset."
"Hmph, you're lucky you're still charming."
"You still think I'm charming?" he said, leaning his forehead against hers with a grin.
"Maybe a little."
Their soft laughter and flirtatious banter continued—gentle teasing, soft touches, shared glances that carried the weight of years and memories.
Meanwhile, Little Asahi…
Asahi, still in his father's arms, turned beet red.
"Uwaaaah! Too much mushy stuff!!" he cried, slapping both hands over his eyes. "My eyes are burning!!"
His parents burst out laughing.
His dad blinked down. "Oh! Sorry, buddy."
"Oh no, we've traumatized him," his mom said, pretending to gasp.
"You two got all kissy and forgot me!"
"We didn't forget you," his mother said sweetly, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.
"You totally did!" Little Asahi peeked through his fingers with a pout. "You're like those couples in those weird shows Mommy watches! Gross!"
"Hahaha! You'll understand one day, Asahi. Maybe you even got more girls than me, before I got your mother," his dad teased.
"No, I won't! I'm gonna be cool and never do gross kissy things!"
His mom chuckled, kissing the top of his head. "We'll see about that."
Still flustered, Little Asahi wriggled down from his father's arms and held up the postcard again with both hands, looking at it more seriously now.
"I wanna go there."
His parents looked at him.
"To the tower," he said quietly. "I wanna see it. I wanna go there with you."
His mom blinked, surprised, and knelt down to meet his eyes. "You want to?"
Little Asahi nodded. "I wanna go on an adventure too. Like you guys."
His father smiled warmly and crouched beside them, resting a hand on his son's shoulder.
"Hahaha! Then let's go together one day," he said.
His mom added, "Then, we'll show you everything. The cliffs, the tower, the sea… everything we adventure, sweetie. One day."
Little Asahi's eyes sparkled with wonder.
"Promise?" he whispered.
His dad and Mom smiled. "Promise."
"Pinky swear?" Little Asahi demanded, holding up his tiny pinky.
Both parents linked theirs with his.
"Pinky swear," they said in unison.
And then—
Little Asahi gave a smug little grin. "But no kissing in front of me, okay?"
His dad laughed. "No promises there, champ."
His mom smirked, leaning into her husband's side. "It's your fault for marrying such a flirt."
"What can I say?" his dad replied, giving her a dramatic wink. "I'm still madly in love with you."
'Oh, my. dear!" Mother went blush.
As both two getting their own pink world.
"Uwaaaaah!!" Little Asahi shouted again, dramatically falling backward onto a pile of blankets. "You're doing it again!! I'm gonna turn into dust!"
His parents just laughed and pulled him into a big, warm family hug.
----
"A...Asa...Asahi…" a voice called gently, just above a whisper.
Asahi stirred, blinking slowly.
His head had slumped forward, resting atop an open grimoire filled with faded runes and curling glyphs. The dream lingered at the edge of his senses, like the last glow of a dying sunset.
"Asahi," the voice repeated, more clearly now.
His eyelids fluttered open.
Alice was crouching beside him, her long silver hair falling like moonlight over her shoulder, her lavender eyes soft with concern.
"You fell asleep again," she said with a teasing smile. "Honestly, I told you not to read spells like that when you're tired. You'll drool grimoire, and then the books get grumpy."
But her smile faltered just slightly when she reached out to brush a lock of hair from his cheek.
Her hand paused.
A single tear was trailing slowly down from the corner of Asahi's right eye, leaving a shimmering streak.
Alice blinked.
"You…" Her voice lowered. "You're crying?"
Asahi slowly sat up, blinking as he touched his cheek in confusion. "Huh…?"
His fingers came away wet.
----CUT!-----
[A/n: My bad guys wrong upload earlier, this is the right one.]
[Ps. Gimme some Wallpaper waifus especially Milf ones]