A strange emptiness filled Masaru's body as he drifted in a space that felt both vast and confined. There was no weight, no sensation—just the eerie silence of existence without form. Then, suddenly, a pulse.
His eyes snapped open.
A cold shiver ran through him as he realized something was wrong. He wasn't standing, wasn't sitting—he was floating. His body felt insubstantial, almost transparent, as if he were nothing more than a specter hovering in the night.
Where… am I?
Below him stretched a colossal castle, its towering walls bathed in the soft glow of the silver moon. The structure was an architectural masterpiece, adorned with obsidian spires, its design exuding both majesty and dread. The banners hanging from the ramparts bore a golden sigil, one Masaru did not recognize but somehow felt in his very being. The air carried the scent of aged stone, damp earth, and blood—as if this place had been steeped in battle for centuries.
But it was what lay before the castle that sent an icy dread through Masaru's ghostly form.
An army of monsters.
Millions.
A sea of creatures, all gathered for war.
The skies were thick with winged demons, their grotesque forms silhouetted against the moon, their golden eyes burning with hatred. Below them, bestial figures prowled on four legs, their clawed hands twitching in anticipation. Colossal giants stood like moving mountains, their massive bodies adorned with golden runes. Beings composed of flames, mist, and even pure shadow flickered through the army, their unnatural forms shifting as though they barely adhered to reality.
Every species. Every race. All gathered here with one purpose.
To destroy.
Masaru's unease deepened. What is this? Is this… my future?
His thoughts were cut short as a deep groaning of iron echoed across the battlefield.
The castle's massive gates began to open.
A sharp gust of wind carried a chilling silence over the battlefield. And then—they stepped out.
Ten figures.
Clad in dark robes and noble attire, they walked with a calm, unshaken presence. But Masaru's attention snapped to the two leading them.
His breath caught in his throat.
One of them—a man who looked almost exactly like him.
Ashen-gray hair. Crimson-red eyes. The same height, the same build. But there was an aura about him that made Masaru feel insignificant in comparison. This wasn't just someone strong. This was someone who had stood above gods themselves.
And draped across his shoulders—the cape Masaru had bonded with.
Except… no, it wasn't the same.
There was something more. More ancient. More powerful.
His gaze then shifted to the woman walking beside him.
She was beautiful, yet terrifying. Long, flowing silver hair cascaded down her back, crimson eyes that held the weight of death itself. Masaru felt a chill just looking at her. Who… is she? She looked just like Akane
For a moment, panic seized him.
Was this him and Akane? Was this their fate?
But… no. That didn't make sense. Everything felt too ancient, too medieval. If this was the future, then why did everything look like a war from some forgotten era?
And then—his blood froze.
A voice shattered the silence.
"To think my own brother would conspire against me in the shadows…"
Masaru turned back toward the gray-haired man, his voice ringing with sorrow and disappointment.
The battlefield stood still. Even the monstrous legions hesitated at the weight of his words.
Masaru shifted his gaze to the army's leader—an elderly man with long silver hair, his golden eyes gleaming with malice and triumph.
This… man is his brother?
"I understand that envy and greed have poisoned your hearts," the gray-haired man continued, his voice neither pleading nor enraged—just tired.
"But you are fools if you believe the lies my junior brother has fed you."
The army murmured, uncertainty creeping into the gathered forces.
"There is no such thing as the 'God Gift.'" His voice hardened.
"And even if it did exist, do you truly believe it would rest in the hands of an undead like me?"
Masaru saw many of the warriors hesitate.
Then, the junior brother spoke, his voice filled with venom.
"Lies! Do not be deceived! He only speaks to save his own hide!"
The old man—Draco—stepped forward.
"Don't let him lie to you! he only says that so that you'd spare him, he knows even with god gift he won't be able to stop us all. god gift is an ultimate power and can be shared amongst us all!" The old man said with a crumbling voice. "Even if he's a royal vampire, he still remains young and kicking with vitality even after millions of years, don't you think he had truly attained insights on true immortality by the grace of god?" The voice said spawning a conversation within the mass as they started to doubts the words of the young man, from what they knew even the oldest o their respective class says they no not when this man was born that he had existed before them all.
"He fears us! He fears death! The 'God Gift' is real! With it, we shall break the chains of mortality and rule eternally!"
The army erupted into roars of agreement.
Masaru clenched his fists.
This wasn't a simple war. This was a betrayal that had been festering for centuries.
The gray-haired man closed his eyes for a long moment.
Then, slowly—he knelt.
Masaru's breath caught in his throat.
"If that is your will… then so be it."
A stunned silence followed. Even Draco looked momentarily caught off guard.
The man's voice was quiet, yet unshaken.
"I will offer my life for peace."
The battlefield stood frozen.
A slow, satisfied grin spread across Draco's face. From within his cloak, he withdrew a dagger.
It shone with an eternal golden radiance, pulsating with divine energy that seemed to reject the very existence of the undead.
Masaru's chest tightened.
"If this blade pierces your heart, even you cannot survive," Draco declared.
"Behold, as I, Draco, usher in a new era—free from the false god, Dracula!"His brother said causing Masaru's eyes to widen, that there was Dracula, the legendary vampire whose cape he posses, to think this would be how he had dies, was the cape showing home the fate of his previous master, how unfortunate, for some reason I feel bad.
The moment the dagger descended toward Dracula's heart, Masaru thought it was over.
Then—light.
A figure in white appeared.
She did not move. She simply was.
The divine dagger shattered upon contact with her outstretched hand.
Masaru's mind screamed.
That power. That presence.
Even the millions of warriors froze in fear.
The silver-haired woman's voice was soft, yet it shook the heavens.
"Dracula. Stand up."
Masaru's heart stopped.
No way. That's… Selene.
Since the man was Dracula then it's only obvious that the woman that accompanied him would be selene.
The legendary Vampire Queen.
Some modern legends speculated that she was also a god.
Dracula lifted his gaze to meet hers.
"It is not worth it," Selene continued.
"You think sacrificing yourself will bring peace? Do not be naive."
She reached out, touching Dracula's cheek gently.
"Even if you fall today, they will never stop hunting you."
Her voice was as soft as a grave's embrace.
"Do not waste our sacrifices. Do not falter."
Masaru could only watch as Dracula's eyes burned with renewed determination.
The battle had not ended.
It had only just begun.