Crypto X Wraith 소설 & 이야기

A Wraith is a predator that has already lost everything, which means it has no fear of the dark. I stood in the center of the melting Vault, my heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs. The scent of Elena’s "Anti-Matter" blade was a sharp, metallic sting in the air, but the smell coming from Dante—the raw, ozone-heavy scent of the Void-Titan—was overwhelming. The "Shadow-Heir" in his arms let out another cry, a sound that vibrated through the floorboards and made the obsidian walls bleed liquid shadow. Dante didn't pull away from the dagger Elena had buried in his chest. Instead, he leaned into it. He stepped forward, forcing the hilt against his own ribs, his eyes locked on

He didn’t yet know who the enemy was—or how close they had come—but the warning was clear and sharp. Back inside, Rashel’s fingers hovered above the keyboard as a chill ran down her spine. The door to her workspace creaked open with a whisper, and a shadow slipped inside, silent as smoke. The Wraith. The figure moved as fluidly as wind, footsteps muffled by leather soles and practiced grace. His mask was featureless, the shape of a wolf’s muzzle rendered in matte black, and his expression unreadable. In his gloved hands, a blade gleamed cold under the faint light.

I shield her, blade striking wraith-claws, sparks searing, Lena’s spark surging, hymn steady. Theryn’s vision deepens—Zynara sealing a wraith-lord, runes blazing, light binding. Their voice whispers, eyes bright. “Her light breaks it.” Kalia’s orb pulses, light flooding the core, runes glowing. Cassia’s fire roars, blade slashing wraith-shadows, flames crackling, eyes fierce. “Burn!” Renn’s relics blaze, hymn strong, striking claws, stance firm, Zorath at his side, voice low. “Hold the line!” Maddox’s shadows twist, dagger sinking into wraith-flesh, grunt sharp, darkness fraying. Sylvara’s vines whip, binding claws, aura bright, staff firm, Elara’s rune glowing. Lysara’s frost-ring surges, b

As I opened the book, the pages crackled beneath my touch, revealing secrets long forgotten by time. My eyes widened, it was Dycans chronicles!! Wasting no time, I flipped through the pages quickly. An inscription came to focus. It was”Segan language” the vampire language. Fortunately for me, I could read it. My jaw dropped when I looked at the inscription. It said “To my beloved daughter Gwen.”

I say, pushing the final sheet, which now contains full sentences that I had been working on, towards her. She leans down, frowning as she reads the heading. This was a language long forgotten… and although there are still parts of the passage that are too damaged to read, or simply not fully readable, it makes sense overall. “Shadow Wraiths…” Her heart thunders as she scans the page. “Shadow wraiths are subspecies of the wraith family… What on earth… they don’t exist.” “Are you sure?” I ask, sitting back and looking up at her.

Hidden security rooms. And deeper still: the old Wraith database. They had buried it after Project Echo was shut down. Officially dismantled. Officially extinct. Unofficially? Lorenzo had kept a skeleton key. He descended into the black with no lights. He didn’t need them. ~~~~~~~~~~ THE WRAITHS RETURN The chamber was ice-cold. Twenty-two pods lined the walls, their occupants in cryo-sleep or stasis-meditation. Men and women once trained to be invisible in light, untraceable in code.

“Then we stop it. We’ve done the impossible before.” Alma gave a small, tired smile. “This time, we won’t be alone.” She turned to a console and tapped into an encrypted network. SableNet. An old contact popped up. A woman with violet eyes and a scar running down her temple. “Hello, Wraith,” Alma said. The woman’s lips curled. “Sterling. I knew it wouldn’t be long before you needed me again.” “I need eyes in the Arctic. Dominion’s dead, but Hekate’s waking up.”

Then, she sighed, a long, drawn-out breath that seemed to carry all the weight of the knowledge she was about to share. “A wraith is the result of a death left unfinished, unresolved,” Alice began, her voice soft but tinged with something dark. “It’s a spirit, yes, but not the kind you might think. It’s not a simple ghost. A wraith is born from agony—pure, uncontrollable anger and resentment. When someone dies in such a way, with so much hatred and pain in their heart, they don’t just fade away. They linger. They transform into something... else.”

A basic graduate degree seemed to carry very little weight among these wolves. Thalia waved her clawed hand dismissively, letting out a sharp bark of laughter. "Let them stack their academic scrolls until they touch the timber rafters; not a single one of those scholars could map half the runic paths your mind commands. Your wolf is Nighthowl’s absolute secret weapon!" The Wraithfang Recon Unit blueprints my mind had calculated five winters past had already paralyzed the rival borders.