Mr. Oliver sat in his office, flipping through documents, signing without looking up—until he suddenly paused. His eyes drifted to the door.
"Akira, you can come in."
The door creaked as Akira slowly poked his head through.
"How did you know I was here?" he asked.
"Everything in this world has a distinct presence—heartbeats, mana. I've become familiar with yours." Mr. Oliver motioned to a chair. "Have a seat."
"Don't worry, I'm not staying long," Akira replied.
"Oh?" Oliver raised a brow. "Here to ask about Kane?"
"Not at all. To be honest, I'm indifferent about him." Akira stepped inside fully. "I'm here to ask about the people that died in the museum. What happens to them?"
Mr. Oliver stared at him for a long moment.
"Are you sure you don't want to sit?" he tried again.
"Just answer me," Akira said, voice firm. "It's wild how so many people died that day for no real reason—and it's not even on the news."
"It's being covered up," Oliver said plainly. "According to the official story, an unexpected 7.5 earthquake struck, and those people were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Akira's voice trembled. "What about their families? Their friends? Someone must've known where they were actually going. And what if they ask for the bodies?"
Oliver let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"This world is bigger than you imagine," he replied. "Everyone connected to the victims family, coworkers, friends has had their memories altered. And exact replicas of the bodies were created and delivered."
Akira lowered his gaze.
"Memory alteration…" he whispered. "Did you use it on my parents? The doctors and nurses? The scientists? The reporters during the period I was… killed and resurrected?"
Oliver's expression shifted, something heavier settling in.
"Yes. It had to be done. If the world discovered magic, people would lose their minds. And God only knows what atrocities humans would commit."
"When did they even start altering memories?" Akira asked.
"A few years after Dracula nearly wiped out sorcerers on Earth," Oliver answered. "The early Church began hunting them calling them spawns of Satan."
"Man…" Akira muttered. "That sounds… reasonable."
He turned, ready to leave. "Well, that answers that."
"Akira." Mr. Oliver's voice stopped him at the door.
Akira turned back.
"You've seen the good and the bad sides of magic," Oliver said quietly. "So tell me—do you want to continue living this life?"
Akira froze.
"Sigh… I haven't really thought about that before. Can I give you an answer after the exams?"
A gentle, almost fatherly smile spread across Oliver's face.
"Very well. Good luck on your exams."
Akira returned the smile, then stepped out of the office.
Crimson skies. Howling wind. Ravens circling overhead.
Young Charles knelt in a pool of children's blood, sobbing uncontrollably. Then his head snapped up.
"I know what I heard," he whispered, eyes darting around.
A moment later, he froze. Ragged breathing echoed from one of the bodies.
**
Back in the present, Diana flipped through the stack of letters. Tears soaked the pages.
"Who did it?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Sorry?" Rebecca replied gently.
"Who killed him?" Diana repeated, sharper this time.
Rebecca lowered her gaze. "I…I don't know. He wouldn't let me join him."
"What about his body?" Diana pressed.
"I didn't find one. It must have been destroyed." Rebecca swallowed hard.
The man beside her stepped forward. "Where the body should've been, there were traces of extremely dark mana. Dracula may have been the one who killed him."
Diana's expression hardened. She stood abruptly and began walking toward the orphanage gate.
"Where are you going?" Rebecca called after her.
"Where else? To Dracula," Diana answered.
The man burst out, "Don't tell me you're planning to kill him! Charles was the strongest in the revolution and even he couldn't—"
"What the hell are you saying?" Diana snapped. "I know I can't kill Dracula. I'm going to finish Charles' mission." Her eyes burned with fury. "One way or another, the Elders will die."
Rebecca watched her go, stunned.
Charles… it's like you're standing right in front of me. Did you gain your resolve from her, or were all of you born with that same fire? she wondered.
**
On the streets of Sanguinastra, vampires whispered among themselves.
"Is it true? Dracula's back?"
"It seems so. The horns have finally shown themselves in public."
"And the castle opened… after all these centuries."
"Is he here to save us from the Elders… or to make things worse?"
Far off, the castle towered like a mountain—black stone, endless walls stretching beyond sight.
Inside, Varin and Lilith waited.
"How long will it take?" Lilith asked.
Varin shrugged with a grin. "Wrong person to ask. I've never used it myself."
Deep within the fortress, behind a sealed door, a massive pool of blood churned. Dracula floated at its center, sinking deeper into his thoughts as the screams in his mind grew louder.
Varin rapped on the door. No answer.
He tilted his head upward—then vanished.
A heartbeat later, he stood on the rooftop.
"Found you," Varin said.
Dracula sat at the edge of the roof, staring into the endless blood-red horizon.
"Things have changed in Sanguinastra," Dracula murmured. "But one thing always stays the same."
"Oh? And what's that?" Varin asked.
"When I'm on Earth, I can feel the roundness of the world. I can sense the poles. I can feel where it ends." Dracula's voice was flat, hollow. "But here? Sanguinastra has no end. No curve. No orbit. Even when I was stronger, I could feel planets circling the sun… but here, nothing. Just land, and more land. Sanguinastra isn't a planet."
"That's quite the hobby," Varin teased.
"No. I do it because I'm bored," Dracula replied. "Now—tell me about the Elders. Since you were the one who created them."
Varin's smile remained calm, unshaken.
"It seems you've heard the complaints of the vampires," Varin said. "Yes, I created the Elders… but these ones aren't mine."
Dracula's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"The originals are dead," Varin replied casually. "These new 'Elders' killed them and took their place."
Dracula scoffed. "Why am I not surprised… the greed of man runs deep."
"Ah, but I'm not affected by the greed of man," Varin said with a childish grin.
"So I am?" Lilith added dryly.
Varin tilted his head back. "Oh— I forgot you were there."
Lilith shot him a deadpan look and walked past him without a word.
"Stop provoking her," Dracula muttered as he tapped the rooftop.
Lilith sat beside him with a small sigh.
"I would never do something so cruel," Varin said innocently.
Lilith glared. Varin winked.
"Why didn't you get rid of them?" Dracula asked.
"You told us not to interfere," Varin answered. "And honestly? I don't want to get dragged into politics. The people will eventually unite and get rid of them themselves."
Dracula hummed thoughtfully. Interesting mindset…
"Do you plan to do anything about them?" Lilith asked.
Dracula stood. "I'm not sure… and honestly, I don't care."
He turned and began to walk away.
The Citadel — Sanguinastra
At the heart of Sanguinastra, a monstrous castle split the land into five sectors. Slaves were dragged through its gates like livestock.
Inside, a hulking man—seven feet tall, hair wild and uneven—sat at a long dining table, his greatsword lying beside the plates. A grotesque, genetically-modified vampire shuffled in, its limbs twitching unnaturally as it set a platter down with a screech of metal.
The barbarian growled, irritated by the sound. His mana flared—
and the creature turned to dust.
"Haven't I told you to stop killing my darlings, you barbarian?" a woman's voice echoed from the hall.
"And I told you I don't want those hell-spawns near me, you witch," the barbarian snarled.
"For the last time, I'm a scientist, not a witch—but I understand. That's a very big word for you," she shot back, stepping out of the shadows. She wore glasses, silky black hair, a blood-splattered lab coat over a red dress—beautiful and unhinged in equal measure.
"I bet they service you in more ways than one," the barbarian grumbled.
"They don't need oversized weapons to compensate for tiny ones," she replied sweetly as she approached the table.
"Bitch," he muttered.
"You know what?" She slapped his sword and plate off the table. "Since I invited the other Elders, I thought we could be civil. But? Fuck that."
The barbarian roared and threw a punch—
but before it landed, a massive creature lunged from the shadows, catching his fist effortlessly.