The gates moaned open like the jaws of some ancient beast, the sound echoing through the ruined castle halls. Alucard stepped inside, shadows twisting anxiously around him as if they could sense what lay ahead.
The throne room stretched before him — vast, cavernous, and deathly silent.
Bodies carpeted the black stone floor. Knights of the Sun God lay where they had fallen, their golden armor cracked open like eggshells, faces frozen in grimaces of agony. Spears jutted from ribcages, swords had cleaved through limbs, shields were split in two as if paper-thin. Blood had long since dried to black stains, smeared across the marble tiles in wide strokes that told the story of slaughter.
The air was thick with iron and ash. The torches along the walls sputtered weakly, their flames struggling against the suffocating stillness. The throne itself loomed at the far end of the hall, half-shrouded in shadow.
And upon it sat Dracula.
The great vampire lord — the tyrant, the father, the nightmare — was slumped on his seat of black stone. A spear pierced his chest, its shaft glowing faintly with the lingering blessing of the Sun God. His once-magnificent robes hung in tatters, strips of cloth clinging desperately to pale, ruined flesh. His crown was gone. His hair, once like strands of midnight, was matted with blood.
Yet even in ruin, he radiated power. The air seemed to bend around him, thick and oppressive. Each shallow breath he took reverberated through the silence, commanding respect, commanding fear.
Alucard froze halfway across the hall. His throat tightened.
"...Father."
The word cracked in the air like fragile glass.
Dracula stirred. Slowly, heavily, his head lifted. His crimson eyes glowed in the shadows, dimmed but not extinguished. They locked onto Alucard, studying him with a weight that threatened to crush him where he stood.
"You came," Dracula said at last. His voice was deep but broken, each syllable carrying centuries of exhaustion. "I wondered if you would."
Alucard's hands curled into fists, shadows slithering up his arms like restless serpents. "Why wouldn't I?" His voice shook. "This… this place… it's as much mine as it was yours."
A faint smile tugged at Dracula's lips, bitter and fleeting. "Strange. Only now do you claim it as home."
Silence stretched, filled only by the low crackle of dying flames.
Alucard took a step forward. Then another. His boots splashed in congealed blood as he made his way through the field of corpses. Every step seemed to echo too loudly. He felt as though he was trespassing on sacred ground — the graveyard of his people, the graveyard of his father's dream.
When he reached the foot of the throne, his chest felt like it might burst. His mind screamed with questions. Why? Why let it come to this? Why did you not call for me? Why did you let her die?
But his lips stayed sealed.
Dracula broke the silence instead. Slowly, his hand rose to the spear lodged in his chest. With a sound that made Alucard's stomach twist — tearing flesh, grinding bone — he ripped it free. The spear clattered to the floor, its holy light sputtering before dying. Flesh closed instantly over the wound, as if it had never been.
Dracula exhaled, then stood. His towering frame cast a shadow that swallowed Alucard whole. Despite his ruined state, he carried himself with the same regality he always had — as if no battle, no army, no god could ever bring him low.
And then, without warning, he embraced him.
Alucard stiffened. For a moment he couldn't breathe. His father's arms wrapped around him, crushing and iron-strong. Centuries of power pressed into his bones, yet… there was warmth in it. Something alien. Something Alucard had never known from him.
"Father…"
The word barely left his lips before searing agony tore through him.
Dracula's fangs sank into his neck.
Alucard's body convulsed. The pain was beyond anything he had ever imagined.
It was as if the entire ocean had been forced into his veins, flooding his body until it threatened to burst. His arteries shredded, his muscles ripped apart, only to heal and tear again in an endless cycle. His heart detonated with each beat, reformed, and exploded once more. His skin crawled with fire, his blood screamed as if alive.
His vision blurred — white, red, black. He tried to cry out but no sound left him, only a wet gurgle of blood. His knees buckled, but Dracula held him upright, unyielding.
It felt like dying. Over and over and over again.
Finally, Dracula pulled away. Blood dripped from his lips as he looked down at his son.
Alucard staggered back, gasping, clutching his chest. Shadows writhed violently around him, alive and feral, reflecting the storm inside. His body trembled, new power gnawing at him from the inside, begging to be unleashed.
Dracula reached into the tatters of his robes. From within, he withdrew a necklace — a thin chain of blackened silver, holding a pendant carved of bloodstone. The gem pulsed faintly, beating like a second heart.
He pressed it into Alucard's hand.
"I was going to wait for your birthday," he said softly, almost wistfully. "But… here. Take it."
[You have received a memory: Blood Necklace]
Alucard stared at it, hands shaking. His vision swam. "Why? Why now? Why give this to me at the end?"
Dracula's crimson eyes softened. "Because my Nightmare is finished." He turned, looking up at the shattered roof above. The first rays of dawn had begun to break through, slicing across the ruined throne room.
"But yours, my son… yours has only just begun."
Alucard's throat closed. "Don't—" His voice cracked. "Don't leave me now. Don't leave me like this."
Dracula chuckled lowly, but there was no malice in it. Only sadness. "I was never good at being a father, was I? Always too harsh. Too distant. Too blind." He paused, his voice dropping lower. "But you… you endured me. You endured everything."
He stepped toward the sunlight. His skin hissed as the first beam touched him, smoke curling up like incense.
"Wait!" Alucard stumbled forward, reaching out. His fingers grazed air. "Father—!"
Dracula half-turned, smiling faintly. For the first time, there was no cruelty in it. Only peace.
"Goodbye, Seb—" He stopped himself. Shook his head. "No. Goodbye, Alucard. Thank you… for being my son."
The light consumed him.
Flesh blackened, crumbled, and drifted away as dust. The Lord of Darkness, the terror of gods and mortals alike, vanished on the morning breeze.
[You have slain an sacred terror: blood emperor dracula]
And Alucard was left standing in silence, clutching the necklace, his blood still burning, his heart breaking.
The throne room was empty.
He was alone.
And finally he heard it.
[Prepare for appraisal…]
Alucard found himself in a space between dream and reality. It was an endless black void illuminated by a myriad of stars. Between those stars, countless strings of silver light were woven into a beautiful and inconceivably complex net, forming various nexuses and constellations. It was truly breathtaking.