555 DLV. The Family Portrai

"Fuuuck! Where are you?! Face me, you bastard! I'm going to rip that smile out of your face!" the young Master yelled loudly, smashing through yet another door leading to an empty room. 

Turning yet another corner of those corridors that looked like part of a labyrinth, a half-open door led outwards.

Dag exited that door and discovered that he was standing right above the balcony from which that mysterious little man had made fun of him and his men.

"He's not even here... I can't let him escape... as Thyrius had predicted, Hakon is not here, which means I will have to settle for the head of one of his generals!" he thought, looking down and noting that Kranus, Freydis, and Reidar were standing in front of the door, protecting the ice wall that kept it closed by enemies, fighting with all their strength.

Marveling at that vision, he used the Sun's rays that begin to illuminate the site of the battle to identify the other warriors as well, but after carefully searching, of Bloodfang, no trace.

"Bloodfang is no longer on the battlefield and Kranus has sealed the entrance! If the Lies Of Loki general isn't here and Bloodfang isn't out there... it means that… he found him before me! Fuck, fuck!" Dag exclaimed, thinking out loud and dashing back inside the castle, retracing backward all the way, realizing that that mysterious man was no longer in the east wing, but in the west wing, in the dining room area, the one Bloodfang described as his favorite before invading the city. 

"I told you his head belongs to me! I won't let you kill him and take all the glory, you damn bastard wolf!" 

Dag's mind, blinded by hatred for the Lies Of Loki, could no longer distinguish good and evil, and for him, anyone who got between him and the enemy was a threat to be eliminated.

...

"The wooden handrail of the staircase is slightly burned on its surface, Dag must have passed over here!" Bloodfang thought a few minutes earlier, as soon as he entered the palace, after heading to the right, sure that the young Master would go in that direction.

As he began to climb the stairs, a sound coming from the other side of the palace caught his eye. 

*skreeeck* 

The squeak of a door echoed in the huge entrance hall almost devoid of furniture and stopped the advance of the Packmaster, who sharpened his hearing and sight, returned back to his steps, descending the few steps he had climbed and heading the other way. 

He leaned out at the other stairway and looked up, trying to visually pinpoint the source of the noise.

At the end of the staircase, on the first floor, a wooden door was half open and the wind coming from inside the room, joining the one present in the central part of the building, sprinkled with windows of all sizes, and forming a current that caused that chilling creaking.

The Packmaster took courage and opened that door, knowing that it led to what was the dining room, and memories of his childhood returned in his mind.

To his surprise, he immediately noticed that that part of the palace had remained identical to the original: a very long table with lots of chairs next to it was located in the center of the hall, until its end.

The last chair, at the head of the table, was occupied by that mysterious man, whose feet were resting on the table and whose arms were folded, as if waiting to receive guests.

Behind him, a huge painting caught Thyrius' attention, who stood still looking at it, as if an arrow had just struck his heart.

The painting depicted a man, a woman, and their three children, two boys, and a girl. 

Behind them, the Castle of Klorr, in all its original splendor.

Bloodfang was paralyzed at the sight of that painting, which after viewing, reappeared in his memories as a piece of paper torn and thrown into the oblivion of his subconscious.

"Father, mother..." the Packmaster whispered, not giving too much importance to the man who was looking at him and devoting all his attention to the painting.

The two people depicted in the drawing were his parents and the three children were him and his siblings before they were killed by the Clan of the adept of Loki, the god of tricks, those who had taken everything away from him.

"Hihihi... do you recognize someone in the painting? Did you see it? We were good, we left it as it was! Hihihi! Actually, you should say thank you to me, that I insisted it wasn't destroyed... I have always loved this drawing, it is a truly remarkable artistic work, regardless of the subjects it represents... hihihi!" the man sitting at the table said, taking his feet off his surface and sitting composed.

After those words, much anger began to flow through the veins of Thyrius, who considered the enemy's speech incredibly sadistic and devoid of humanity: he admired the objective beauty of the painting, also if he didn't know its subjects. 

It was a feeling that only one member of Lies Of Loki could feel, only an evil and unscrupulous man could tarnish another man's past that way, making fun of now-defunct people. 

"How dare you... grrr... how dare you look at that painting and leave it hanging in this place... their souls do not belong to you, nor to anyone else!" Bloodfang exclaimed, pulling out his claws, while his red eyes shone in the darkness near the front door of that room, less illuminated than the others.