Morrigan: Year 3101.

Brice made a sudden forward movement, thrusting his sword through the air, but his opponent swiftly blocked it causing the clashing of metal against metal. The chandelier hanging above created elongated shadows in the room, its light reflecting off the sharp edges and gleaming surfaces of the Ancient Roman generals' swords and armor that adorned the walls.

"Focus, Brice!" barked his instructor, Monsieur Faustin. "Your footwork is sloppy. You're telegraphing your moves."

Brice grunted, adjusting his stance. He circled his opponent, searching for an opening. The other fencer, a lanky youth named Pierre, matched his movements step for step.

"Remember," Faustin continued, "fencing is as much about the mind as it is about the body. Anticipate your opponent's moves, but don't let them anticipate yours."

Brice feinted left, then struck right, but Pierre blocked the attacks, barely. Sweat beaded on Brice's forehead beneath his mask.

"Better," Faustin nodded. "Now, press your advantage."

Brice advanced, forcing Pierre back until his footwork faltered. Brice saw his chance and lunged, the tip of his sword found its mark on Pierre's chest.

"Touché!" Faustin called out. "Well done, Brice. But don't get cocky. Pierre, you need to work on your defensive positioning. Your guard was too low."

The two fencers removed their masks, panting heavily. Pierre's face was flushed, while Brice remained pale - a perk of his vampiric nature.

"Again," Faustin commanded. "This time, I want to see more aggression from both of you. Fencing isn't just about defense. You need to create opportunities, not just wait for them."

Brice and Pierre squared off once more. As they began their bout, the door to the room opened. Colette, Brice's assistant, stepped inside. She stood by the entrance and followed their match.

Brice noticed her presence but kept his focus on Pierre. He parried a thrust, then countered with a riposte that nearly scored. Pierre recovered quickly, forcing Brice to retreat.

"Watch your distance!" Faustin shouted. "You're letting him dictate the pace. Control the space between you."

Brice adjusted, shortening his steps. He felt the rhythm of the match shift, Pierre now reacting to him instead of the other way around, causing him to press forward.

Pierre struggled to keep up. His parries became wider, less controlled. This made Brice saw an opening and, without wasting time, took it until his sword found its target once again.

"Excellent!" Faustin clapped his hands. "That's what I want to see. Controlled aggression, precise execution."

Brice removed his mask, nodding at Pierre. "Good match," he said.

Pierre shook his head. "I need to work on my speed," he muttered.

"Speed will come with practice," Faustin assured him. "Focus on your technique first. The rest will follow."

Brice turned to Colette, who was still waiting patiently by the door. "Give me a few minutes to change," he called out to her. "We can discuss whatever it is after I've showered."

Colette nodded. "Of course, Monsieur Bouchard. I'll wait in your office."

As she left, Faustin approached Brice. "Your form is improving," he said. "But you still have a tendency to rely too much on your vampiric reflexes. Remember, in a real duel, your opponent might be just as fast - or faster."

"I thought the point was to use every advantage."

"It is," Faustin agreed. "But you can't always count on being the strongest or the fastest. True mastery comes from technique and strategy. Your abilities should complement your skills, not replace them."

Brice considered this as he began to remove his fencing gear. "I see your point," he conceded. "I'll work on it."

"Good," Faustin said. "Now go clean up. I'm sure whatever Colette has to discuss is important."

Brice peeled off his sweaty fencing gear in the changing room, tossing it into his locker. He then pulled on a white long-sleeved shirt and buttoning it. Jeans and loafers completed his ensemble, then he grabbed his water bottle before slamming the locker shut.

The hallway stretched before him, all polished marble and towering windows. Paintings of warriors adorned the opposite wall, their frozen battle cries lost on Brice as he strode past. Maids and butlers greeted him with respectful nods, but he didn't spare them a glance.

He pushed open the door to his office, a room that could have been plucked from a medieval castle. Colette sat across from his desk, her all-black suit and boots a stark contrast to the room's aged decor. Brice settled into his high-backed chair, fixing her with an expectant stare.

"So," he said, "what's the status on our friend Kazuo Tanaka? Is he dead yet?"

Colette didn't speak. Instead, she pulled out her phone and placed it on the desk. With a few taps, a hologram sprang to life above the device, projecting a chaotic scene of speeding cars and flashing lights.

Brice leaned forward, squinting at the image. "What the fuck is this?"

"This," Colette said, "is what happened to our friend Azrael."

"Our assassin?"

"The very same. He was killed by the occupants of this car." She pointed to a vehicle weaving through traffic, pursued by a fleet of police cruisers.

"That's impossible. Azrael was the best we had. Who the hell managed to take him out?"

Colette tapped her phone again. The image zoomed in on the driver's face, becoming clearer with each second. "I've done some digging. The driver's been identified as Morrigan Devereux."

"Devereux?" Brice's eyebrows shot up. "As in Lucien Devereux? Our fucking leader?"

"I can't say for certain. I checked all the sources I've got and that's the only info I got. She has no history, no records, nothing," Colette replied. "It might be best to ask our leader directly."

Brice leaned back in his chair. "Shit. This is a mess. Azrael dead, Tanaka still breathing, and now we've got a Devereux in the mix? What the hell is going on?"

"I don't have all the answers," Colette said. "But I do know this: whoever these people are, they're not to be underestimated. They took out Azrael and outran half the Paris police force."

"Yeah, no shit," Brice stood up, pacing behind his desk. "Whoever this Morrigan is, she somehow knew that we're hunting for Tanaka. But how?"

"There are a few possibilities. First, we could have a leak within our organization. Someone might be feeding information to outsiders."

"Fuck," Brice muttered. "That's a scary thought. Who would have the balls to betray us?"

"It's not unheard of," Colette pointed out. "Remember the incident with Jean-Claude in '89?"

Brice nodded. "Yeah, I remember. We're still finding pieces of him."

"Another possibility," she continued, "is that Morrigan has some connection to Tanaka. Maybe she's been monitoring him independently and caught wind of our plans."

"But why? What's so special about this journalist that it would attract the attention of a Devereux?"

Colette shrugged. "That's the million-euro question, isn't it? We know there's something unique about his blood, but beyond that..."

"Could be coincidence. Maybe Morrigan stumbled onto our operation by accident and decided to interfere."

"That seems unlikely. The timing is too perfect. And let's not forget, she managed to take out Azrael. That's not something you do on a whim."

"You're right. This was planned. But how?" He stopped, turning to face Colette. "What if... what if Lucien is behind this?"

Colette's eyebrows shot up. "The Marquis? Why would he sabotage his own operation?"

"I don't know. But think about it. A Devereux shows up out of nowhere, interferes with our plans, and we're left scrambling. It's exactly the kind of mind game Lucien loves to play."

"That's a dangerous theory. If you're wrong..."

"I know, I know," Brice waved her off. "But we can't rule it out. We need more information."

Colette nodded, standing up. "I'll see what else I can dig up. In the meantime, what's our next move regarding Tanaka?"

Brice sighed, sinking back into his chair. "For now, we wait. We can't make a move until we know what we're dealing with. Keep tabs on Tanaka if you can, but don't engage. We need to figure out who Morrigan is and what she wants before we do anything else."

"Understood," Colette said, heading for the door. "I'll report back as soon as I have something concrete."

As the door closed behind her, Brice leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?" he muttered to the empty room.

He snatched Colette's phone from the desk and strode out of his office, then marched down the hallway. As he exited the mansion, he passed through a sprawling garden where a gardener was trimming hedges into complex shapes of animals.

He crossed the expansive grounds to another mansion opposite the one he'd just left. This building was even grander with its architecture reminiscent of old European palaces. Brice entered and made his way to the main hall, a room that could rival the Pope's audience chamber in Rome for sheer opulence.

Marble columns lined the perimeter, supporting a domed ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes depicting scenes from vampire history. Statues of ancient vampiric figures stood between the columns, their stone eyes seeming to follow visitors as they moved through the room.

The floor was a work of art in itself, a mosaic of precious stones arranged in complex geometric patterns. Each step on the polished surface sent tiny echoes through the cavernous space. Enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal prisms catching and scattering light across the room.

Paintings of past vampire leaders and significant historical events covered the walls, their gilt frames glinting in the soft light. At the far end of the chamber, a raised dais held an ornate throne, its back carved with the symbol of Les Ombres Sanglantes - a blood-red rose intertwined with a dagger.

In the center of the room, seated on an ornate chair that might as well have been a throne, was Marquis Lucien Devereux. He cut an imposing figure in his black suit and long red cape. His lengthy locks of white hair cascaded down his back, highlighting his blue eyes that appeared to see beyond the surface.

He was deep in conversation with several associates when Brice entered. As soon as he noticed the young vampire, he waved the others away.

Brice approached and knelt before him. "My lord."

"What is it?" Lucien asked.

He rose to his feet. "Marquis, the assassin we sent after Tanaka is dead."

"Is that so? How did this happen?"

"It was done by someone named Morrigan Devereux," Brice said, watching Lucien's face carefully. "Is she related to you?"

"You lie. Do you have proof of this?"

Without a word, he pulled out Colette's phone and played the video. Lucien's gaze narrowed as he watched the footage. When it ended, he stood up without notice.

"Walk with me," he said, striding towards the exit.

They made their way outside to the garden. The scent of roses filled the air as they walked along the winding paths.

"So you know who this Morrigan is?" Brice asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, I know her. She is my daughter."

Brice nearly tripped over his own feet. "Your daughter? But you've never mentioned having a child."

"That's because she died in a plane crash 100 years ago," Lucien said. "It was before you joined our organization."

"If that's true, then why has she suddenly shown up to rescue Tanaka?"

Lucien stopped walking, his attention drawn to a blooming rose. He reached out and gently touched its petals. "I don't know," he said. "Morrigan has always been something of an enigma."

"Enigma?"

"Yes. Gentle, yet deadly. Beautiful, yet ruthless."

"Ruthless?" Brice repeated. "What do you mean by that?"

Lucien's hand dropped from the rose. "I personally trained Morrigan in all manner of warfare. For 50 years, I honed her skills, then used her as a soldier to do my bidding for another century. She became a master of war, able to eliminate targets with lethality and effectiveness."

"So she's basically a walking weapon."

"Precisely. Imagine a soldier that has unlimited skills, knows all forms of martial arts and a master of every weapon known to man. That's her. That's Morrigan. And make no mistake, she's good at what she does. I trained her to become unlike any other. A super soldier, with the power of a vampire and as smart as the best warriors of the past."

"What happened? How did she disappeared from you?"

"One day, she was on a mission to extract a target. Her chopper was shot down by an enemy with a precise targeting system. We tried to retrieve her body, but she was gone. We assumed that the missile that hit her, disintegrated her entire self. All we've got are fragments of the wreckage and some of her armor clothing."

"And now she's back, apparently. But why? And why is she protecting Tanaka?"

"Those are excellent questions," Lucien said. "Questions I intend to have answered. Morrigan's reappearance complicates things. She is not to be thrifled with. If she is protecting Tanaka, that means you'll need an army to deal with him."

"Wait, an army? Isn't that a little bit of an overkill don't you think?"

"I assure you, that is not an overkill."

An army to deal with just one person? The idea seemed absurd, yet the Marquis' serious tone left no room for doubt. He recalled the footage of Morrigan outmaneuvering the police and taking down their top assassin. If she was truly as formidable as Lucien claimed, perhaps an army wasn't overkill after all.

"Ok, so what's our next move?"

Lucien fell silent, his gaze distant as if lost in thought and fixating on something in the distance. "Release our Legionaire division."

The Legionaires were the fierce, elite army of vampire soldiers that their organization had trained. They were clad in state of the art armor from head to toe and equipped with the most advanced technology, including drones, rifles, and even mechs. As one of the organization's most powerful divisions, they have never failed a single mission since conception.

"The Legionaires? Are you sure? Isn't that a little bit too early?"

"Trust me on this one. It's not. Against a super soldier, that's pretty much a match."

Brice sighed, then bowed his head. "As you wish, my lord. And one more thing."

"What is it?"

"If Morrigan was your soldier for so long, is it possible she knows things about our organization that could be... problematic if revealed?"

"It's more than possible. Morrigan was privy to many of our secrets. If she's turned against us..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Brice could fill in the blanks. If Morrigan had gone rogue with the knowledge she possessed, it could spell disaster for Les Ombres Sanglantes.

As they reached the entrance to the mansion, Lucien turned to Brice. "Keep me informed of any developments."

"As you wish."

"And Brice?"

"Yes, Marquis?"

"Be careful. Morrigan was always unpredictable, even when she was loyal. Now? She could be truly dangerous. Who knows what experience she could have gained all those years of her being gone."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful."

With that ominous warning, Lucien swept back into the large house, leaving Brice alone in the garden. He looked down at the phone in his hand glancing at the frozen image of Morrigan's face.