Visions blurred before Joseph's eyes.
And then—
A pale face.
The same woman.
But now she lay weakly in bed, her skin almost translucent, lips trembling as she spoke.
"Don't blame yourself, honey," she whispered, her fragile hand trembling as it reached toward him. Her palm cupped his cheek, warm with love despite the weakness coursing through her.
"What is written in destiny is bound to happen."
Her words carried sorrow—yet overflowed with tenderness, the kind of love that could outlast time itself.
Meanwhile — outside Joseph's Room in the mansion!
David stepped out of the room. His face was grim, shoulders heavy, as though the weight of the night refused to leave him.
Thomas immediately rose from where he had been pacing the corridor. His voice came urgent, laced with concern.
"Is he okay?"
David paused, silent at first. He drew in a deep breath before forcing out a reply.
"Yeeaaahhh..." The word dragged, heavy with doubt.
"He's treating Joseph," David continued, voice weary, "but he didn't tell me much."
Thomas leaned in, brow furrowed.
"David... what happened in the forest? I mean—Ms. Lopez?"
His tone wasn't interrogative—it was a plea for clarity, tangled with unease.
David's eyes darkened. His voice dropped to a low murmur.
"She was not Lopez. We've already seen her true form."
Thomas blinked, confused.
"You mean... Ms. Lopez was a demon?"
"No. Not that." David shook his head firmly.
"Miss Lopez is in their hands. She's a prisoner of the demons. But where, we don't know."
Thomas turned away, staring into the distance. His expression hardened, shadows deepening across his face.
"I was right," he muttered under his breath. "They are returning."
David's instincts flared at those words. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing.
"Hold on. When you saw us in the forest—you weren't surprised. Not afraid either. And you can wield elements. That doesn't just happen." His tone sharpened.
"Thomas... what exactly are you?"
Thomas met his gaze steadily, no fear in his eyes.
"You're right. I wasn't afraid. Because I knew... I've always known demons would rise again one day."
He paused.
"As for you and Joseph—yes, you surprised me, but only for a moment."
David pressed further, suspicion clear.
"And your elemental powers?"
Thomas exhaled slowly, a faint, almost resigned smile touching his lips.
"They are the legacy of my ancestors."
"Ancestors?" David echoed.
Thomas's voice deepened, carrying both pride and sorrow.
"I am the grandson of the last human king... who once sought the aid of the Vampire Lord."
A thunderclap split the night. Lightning flashed across the grand hall, painting their faces in pale white light.
The revelation struck harder than the storm.
David's pupils dilated, shock spreading across his face.
"I never thought I'd meet one of his descendants. I thought they were—"
"Cursed?" Thomas finished, a bitter smile ghosting his lips.
"Say it. You wouldn't be the first."
He turned away, voice lowering.
"The rumor isn't false. My family has been haunted for generations. Both my elder brothers died because of it."
A flicker of grief crossed his face—but only for a heartbeat. He masked it quickly, as though loss had long become his companion.
Inside the chamber, Joseph's body trembled on the bed. His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat streaking down his face. The wound near his heart, once a crimson pool, had turned unnaturally black, seeping like venom through his veins.
The man beside him was working desperately, pouring energy into Joseph, forcing the bleeding to stop. But the corruption ran deep, and the body was only the surface of the chaos.
Inside Joseph's mind, the storm raged.
"Ahhh... grrhh...!" he groaned, clutching his head, his memories flickering like a broken television screen.
And then—
His surroundings shifted.
He stood in a vast bedroom. A boy — no older than five — sat curled in the corner, crying softly.
Joseph's chest tightened. That same boy again.
"What happened to him?" he whispered.
The door creaked. A figure entered, cloaked in solid smoke. It moved like a shadow, faceless, its body exhaling black mist with every step.
"Young Master," the figure said, its voice deep and hollow. "You have been called."
"No," the boy sobbed. "I don't want to go anywhere!"
The shadow knelt, lifting the child effortlessly into its arms. The boy's crying softened, his body going limp as though bewitched into sleep.
Joseph, unseen, followed. His fists clenched as they entered another chamber — vast, ornate, walls adorned with ancient carvings and glimmering crystal torches.
At the far end, another figure awaited them. Tall. Muscular. Towering in authority. His body shrouded in darkness so thick it swallowed light.
"Bring him here."
The boy was laid gently on the bed. The imposing figure sat beside him, a heavy silence hanging in the room.
"What I am about to do... is for your own good," the figure rumbled. His voice carried authority, but beneath it lingered sorrow. "Do not blame me, ——"
Joseph strained to hear the name, but his head split with a screeching pain, like nails scraping iron.
SKRRRTTT—!
The towering man placed his palm over the boy's eyes.
Light burst forth. Crimson flames shifting to white, intensifying until it filled the entire chamber.
Joseph's fury ignited. His voice thundered.
"What are you doing to that child?!"
He lunged forward, but his hands passed through the figures like mist. His grip found nothing but smoke. Desperation clawed at his throat.
"No! Leave him alone!"
The smaller shadow turned, its smoky face flickering. For a brief second, Joseph glimpsed it. Recognition jolted through him.
"That face... I've seen it before."
The memory clicked. His pulse froze.
It was the same man who had caught him in the sky. The same man who saved him.
"YOU!" Joseph roared.
But the light devoured the vision. His body was yanked backward, falling into a void.
A voice echoed, calm and resonant, carrying the weight of absolute command.
"IT IS NOT YOUR TIME YET, JOSEPH!"
The sound vibrated into Joseph's very bones, reverberating through eternity.
"GO BACK AND FULFILL YOUR DUTY."
The voice was perfect blend of — love, warmth, majestic, undeniable, divine.
Joseph start falling in nothingness.
Joseph crashed into a watery surface below, shattering it like fragile ice. The vision collapsed.
Reality snapped back.
Joseph's body jolted upright in bed with a violent thrust, like lightning surging through his veins. His chest heaved. His vision swam.
But he saw him — the man standing beside his bed.
His rage erupted. His hands shot forward, clutching the man's collar. He pulled them man bringing his face just in front of his face. Joseph eyes full of fury and crimson red glow.
His voice ripped through the storm outside.
"What did you do to that child?!"
THUNDER CRACKED, answering his fury, shaking the windows.
David and Thomas rushed in, alarmed by the shout.
The man, calm and composed, didn't resist. His eyes betrayed sorrow, but his voice remained steady.
"I would not recommend movement in your condition, Young Master."
Joseph froze. Those words.
YOUNG MASTER!
The shadow in his memory had called the boy that, too.
His thoughts struck like lightning.
"That child... it was me."
His grip tightened, his voice shaking with fury and betrayal.
"You were one of them. You took my memories from me. My childhood."
He tried to stand, but his knees buckled under the weight of his wound.
David darted forward, catching him. "Joseph, calm down! You're in no condition to—"
Joseph shoved him away, his voice breaking with anger and grief.
"This bastard... He's the one who stole everything from me!"
His eyes burned as they turned on David. "And you. You knew. Didn't you?"
His voice cracked, filled with a pain deeper than any wound.
David's heart sank. He raised his hands gently. "Joseph, it's not what you think—"
Before he could finish, the man finally spoke, his tone solemn.
"Allow me to explain." He straightened, voice unwavering. "My name is Lazarus. I am the head knight of the Vampire Kingdom. And the sworn protector of Lady Aria — your mother."
He bowed his head.
"And you, Young Master... were the one I was tasked to protect with my life."
Joseph's grip faltered, but the rage in his eyes did not fade.
Lazarus's voice carried calm authority, yet Joseph's heart twisted with disgust.
"And why now?" Joseph spat, his tone venomous. "Why appear after all this time? Did you suddenly remember your 'SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY'?"
Before Lazarus could reply, a new voice rolled through the chamber, deep and resonant, carrying an echo that made the air itself vibrate.
"I asked for his help."
The sound made every head turn. From the far corner of the room, thick smoke coiled and writhed, shaping itself into a humanoid form.
Horned silhouette. Broad shoulders. A presence that pressed down like an invisible weight. The shadows solidified until a figure emerged — cloaked in darkness, but unmistakably powerful.
The Demon General.
Thomas's instincts flared. In a blink, fiery sigils blazed beneath his feet, circling him in arcs of crimson light. His hands tightened, flames dancing at his fingertips, ready to strike.
But David lifted a hand, signaling him to hold back. His eyes, sharp and cautious, scanned the intruder.
"Wait. He's not here as an enemy."
The smoke-faced General ignored the hostility, his voice steady and grave.
"The dagger that succubus used was no ordinary blade, Joseph."
Joseph stiffened, his hand instinctively moving to the wound.
The General's eyes narrowed, his tone sharpening.
"When she struck you, it was not just steel that pierced your body. The dagger was a single-use artifact — a vessel. Through it, she injected a concentrated mass of demonic energy directly into your veins. That power will spread through every corner of your body. It will weaken you. Strip away your control. And when it's finished..."
His gaze darkened. "You will be nothing more than an empty shell."
ARTIFACT: Ancient relics of immense power, forged in the forgotten wars between Greater Existence. Each artifact contains a fragment of divine or demonic essence, unstable and volatile. When used, it can alter life and death itself, but at a cost — the wielder's body, soul, or destiny may be forever changed.
The General's words rang like a death sentence.
Joseph staggered back slightly, his jaw clenching, mind teetering between fury and disbelief.
"Why should I believe a word of this?" His voice thundered, his chest heaving. "Every person standing before me has hidden something from me! One of you knew and never told me. Another sealed my memories without consent. And you—" he pointed a trembling finger at the General, his voice cracking with fury, "—you are a Demon yourself!"
David's head lowered, shame weighing on his shoulders like chains. He couldn't bring himself to meet Joseph's eyes.
Lazarus, however, remained unshaken, his composure unbroken — as though he bore the weight of guilt but not regret.
The General, unsurprised by Joseph's outburst, inclined his head slightly. His tone softened, though his presence remained oppressive.
"You are right. You have no reason to believe me. Not when I have never even offered you, my name."
The smoke thinned, revealing more of his sharp, war-hardened features. His eyes glowed faintly with an otherworldly hue.
"My name is Azryel. One of the Four Great Demon Generals."
The revelation struck like lightning.
Joseph's breath caught. His fists clenched tighter. A General of the Demon Realm — standing here, speaking not with malice, but urgency.
"Why..." Joseph's voice wavered with confusion and anger. "Why would someone like you help us?"
Azryel's expression hardened, shadows flickering across his face.
"I know the questions burning inside you, Joseph. And I will answer them... in time."
His tone grew sharp, commanding. "But right now is not that time. The corruption inside you will not wait for answers. If we do not act soon..."
His gaze locked with Joseph's, cold and unwavering.
"...there will be no you left to save."
The night had opened its gates to the coming storm — a storm that promised no mercy, only a crucible by which men would either be broken... or reforged into something far greater.
And as forgotten memories clawed their way back to the surface, the power buried deep within stirred, restless, hungry, straining against its cage.
And somewhere in the dark, destiny itself held its breath.
To be Continued...