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Dracula slowly lifted his head, gazing toward the direction of the sound.
There stood a striking young woman—a true heroine in appearance. Her hair was divided evenly into black and white, mirroring the crimson glow of her eyes—undeniably vampiric. A sharp, dagger-shaped accessory adorned the temple near her right ear, and she wore a short, jet-black cloak lined with blood-red satin over a long flowing gown in matching hues.
"Long time no see, Serena," Dracula said with a chuckle, raising his hand in greeting.
"It really has been a long time," Serena replied, descending gracefully from the sky. She folded her wings—one black, one white, like her hair—and fixed Dracula with a scowl. "I've spent over a century out there, and you left Dracula's Castle in the hands of someone like me? Aren't you even a little ashamed?"
"Ahem..." Dracula cleared his throat and gave an awkward smile. "You're hardly a child anymore, Serena. You're well over a hundred now."
"So what? Just because I've hit a hundred, I'm supposed to babysit the entire castle for you?" Serena crossed her arms, mimicking his posture. "Now I get it—you took me in just to have someone run the territory. A glorified caretaker while you vanish like a lazy lord!"
To be fair, she wasn't entirely wrong.
Dracula had always loathed managing the day-to-day affairs of his estate. Rather than deal with the endless troubles of ruling, he sought someone to take the burden off his shoulders.
But to the vampires in the castle—arrogant, proud, and loyal to no one—only Dracula, their ancient and powerful master, held true authority.
And so, over a hundred years ago, tired of it all, Dracula adopted a frail, malnourished orphan girl on the verge of death.
He brought her to the castle and personally turned her into a vampire. Her new blood gifted her a resilient body, enough to survive what her human form could not.
He named her *Serena Alcatel*Serena, symbolizing the moon; Alcatel, derived from Alucard, a reversed form of Dracula, signifying her as his heir in name as well as blood.
Empowered by Dracula's pure bloodline, Serena quickly grew stronger. As the closest thing Dracula had to a daughter, the other vampires had no choice but to show her respect.
In time, Serena proved more than capable of holding her own.
With his protégé now in control, Dracula happily withdrew from public affairs—becoming, in effect, a glorified absentee landlord.
And when boredom eventually struck, he sealed himself inside a custom-made coffin and dozed for a full century, completely at ease.
Of course, he couldn't say any of that to Serena. He knew she'd explode if she ever heard the truth.
In reality, the main reason Dracula hadn't returned to his castle was simple—he was afraid of dealing with Serena's wrath.
"This is all part of your growth, Serena," Dracula said, spinning his words with faux sincerity. "The future belongs to the young. Ancient relics like me, over a thousand years old, should fade quietly into the background. You are the rising moon, illuminating the night—"
He trailed off as Serena gave him a look full of scorn.
"Do you even hear yourself? Does that sound like anything a real vampire would say?" she scoffed. "You say I'm the moon rising at night—then what about you? Is the moon supposed to set while it's still climbing the sky?"
"Uh..." Dracula hesitated, clearly caught off guard. "Well... it's not out of the question. I could go lie back in my coffin."
"Lie down?!" Serena snapped. "You've been lying still for a hundred years already! I've been breaking my back managing a whole nest of unruly vampires!"
"I told you before," Dracula said more gently, "just let the low-tier ones fend for themselves. If they can't manage on their own, maybe they aren't worth the effort."
"No!" Serena said firmly, shaking her head. "Even the weakest vampires used to be ordinary people—people like me. They still carry their wills, their memories. You can't just throw them away like garbage."
"...As you wish," Dracula said with a shrug.
Just then, a loud, snarling voice erupted from below the castle walls.
"You think you can ignore me while we're about to storm the city?!" roared a towering figure from the base of the wall. "You two clearly don't take me seriously!"
Dracula and Serena turned their attention downward.
There, under the city wall, stood a muscular man with wild gray hair and beard, eyes burning with rage. His sharp, yellowed nails and bared teeth made him resemble a savage beast more than a man.
"Who's that? The werewolves' leader?" Dracula asked.
"Probably," Serena answered, uncertain.
"Probably?" Dracula raised an eyebrow. "Castle Dracula has been neighbors with the Romanian werewolves for centuries. And you, as the current head of the castle, don't know who their alpha is?"
"Of course I do!" Serena snapped, flaring up like a cat with her tail stepped on.
"Their former leader was someone else entirely, and he was on decent terms with us. But that guy is Fenrir Greyback—he's from the UK."
"He's brought a whole horde of Inferi with him, swelling the werewolves' numbers unnaturally. I only sent you that non-urgent signal because I'd discovered how many Inferi were mixed in."
"And considering we didn't see their former leader today—plus the fact they're suddenly attacking out of nowhere—I'm guessing Fenrir killed him and took over."
"From England, huh..." Dracula murmured, frowning.
Below, Fenrir, seeing his threats ignored, let out an enraged, bone-chilling howl. His bristling fur stood on end.
"You'll regret this!" he roared. "When the moon rises, I'll tear you apart limb by limb!"
His werewolf pack answered with a chorus of howls, shaking the night air.
Up on the wall, most vampires shuddered under the pressure. Their faces were paler than usual, their bodies trembling in the icy wind.
But one figure stood calm and unshaken—Lord Dracula.
His presence alone was a wall stronger than stone, a flame against the encroaching dark.
The vampires around him took heart.
If Lord Dracula was awake, no number of Inferi could breach the castle.
Meanwhile, Dracula turned to Serena with a sly smile.
"Why don't you go capture him and show me what you've learned in the last century?"
"Why don't you go capture him?" Serena shot back. "Or maybe clean up all the Inferi down there? Let's see if you got rusty while lying around for a hundred years!"
"Hmph, not a bad idea..." Dracula murmured, his lips curling into a grin as he gazed down at the army of undead beneath the wall.
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The last trace of sunlight vanished from the sky. Darkness consumed the land.
A full moon rose at the horizon, its pale glow revealing werewolves hidden among the Inferi.
One by one, howls pierced the silence around the castle. Human forms began to convulse. Jaws lengthened into snouts, backs arched, limbs stretched unnaturally, and thick fur spread across their bodies.
Fenrir was the first to leap—effortlessly clearing the city wall. He landed before Dracula and Serena, teeth bared.
"So you two are the ones who ignored me?" he growled through jagged teeth. "You'll pay for your arrogance!"
Dracula's eyes sparkled with interest. "A new breed," he murmured. "Werewolves that retain sanity after transforming?"
"Thanks to wolfsbane potion," Serena said. "Rich werewolves take it before transforming so they can stay conscious."
"How decadent," Dracula mused. "Most can't afford a single vial. And these monsters are using it to wreak havoc."
Fenrir snarled. He couldn't take their indifference any longer. With a furious roar, he lunged—
But stopped mid-air.
An invisible force lifted him like a rag doll. Limbs dangling helplessly, Fenrir floated before them.
"Tell me," Dracula said, his voice like velvet. "Who sent you? You couldn't have summoned that many Inferi by yourself."
"Put me down, damn it!" Fenrir thrashed. "Fight fair!"
Serena smirked. "Playing games again?"
"It's not every day you meet a werewolf with strength and self-control," Dracula replied.
He gently lowered Fenrir and removed the restraints. "Fine. Let's fight. No magic."
Fenrir blinked, stunned by the offer. He braced himself—this was his chance. Werewolves, with their beastly bodies, always held the upper hand over vampire elegance. He would win.
"No tricks!" he barked.
Dracula nodded.
Fenrir charged. Dracula shifted slightly to the side, his movements fluid. With one graceful pivot, he seized Fenrir's tail.
A sickening crack echoed. The werewolf's body slammed into the wall—and went limp.
"Your strength is disappointing," Dracula sighed.
Fenrir's sanity crumbled. The potion's effect faded. Instinct surged. Hunger overtook him.
A piercing howl split the air.
His eyes turned crimson. Fangs gleaming, he lunged once more—
Smack!"
Dracula's palm struck him square in the jaw. Fenrir hit the ground, unconscious.
"Boring werewolf," Dracula muttered, extending a hand to Serena.
"You knew he'd be no match." Serena handed him a handkerchief, rolling her eyes.
Dracula nonchalantly wiped his hands with a handkerchief before returning it to Selina. Serena took one look at the filthy werewolf, recoiled in revulsion, and shook her head sharply.
"You're right," Dracula said with a chuckle. He lit a white flame on his fingertip and reduced the handkerchief to ash. "Never mind that. Let's handle these Inferi first."
Behind him, massive wings unfurled, lifting him into the air above his castle. The moonlight cast a cold glow, and his shadow stretched ominously across the land.
The vampires stationed on the city wall looked up in awe. At first stunned, their faces quickly transformed into reverent admiration.
The elder vampires unfurled their own wings, rose into the air, crossed their arms over their chests, and bowed deeply in homage to their race's cornerstone.
Younger vampires who lacked the power to grow wings turned into bats and flew in circles around the elders.
The lowest-ranked vampires, unable to transform at all, dropped to their knees in worship.
Dracula smiled faintly and gestured downward.
From the dark silhouette he cast, a swarm of bats burst forth, flooding half the battlefield in an instant.
Each of their wings shimmered with a ghostly white flame. With eerie precision, they targeted the slow-moving, decaying Inferi, landing silently at the napes of their necks like insects nesting on corpses. Their clawed wings ignited the undead in cold white fire.
Though the Inferi couldn't feel pain or fear, and continued their mindless march toward the city wall, the fire wouldn't extinguish.
The flames consumed them slowly from the neck down. Their heads crumbled into ash, faces blank and expressionless.
Still, the Inferi pressed on.
The fire crept downward, devouring the spine, until their limbs finally gave out and collapsed. Only the persistent flames remained, reducing them to snow-white ash.
Under the black sky, scattered blazes flared like strange stars on the ground, mirroring the constellations above.
With the Inferi wiped out, the remaining mindless werewolves no longer posed any danger to the elite vampires.
Those vampires who had welcomed Dracula mid-air descended beneath the wall.
They used their innate magic to stimulate the werewolves' blood, restricting their movement. Meanwhile, the lower-ranking vampires charged in boldly, relying on brute strength to confront the werewolves head-on.
Seeing everything proceeding smoothly, Dracula folded his wings and landed gently beside Serena.
By now, Serena had already restrained Fenrir with a binding spell and strung him up on a lamppost inside the wall.
She gazed at the burning battlefield, where white sparks danced like stars, her eyes gleaming.
"Quick! Teach me that! I want to learn!" she said excitedly as Dracula approached. She grabbed his arm, feigning a pout. "How could you keep such a beautiful spell hidden from me?!"
"I did teach you," Dracula replied, casting her a sideways look.
"I don't remember learning it! If you had, I'd definitely recall it!" Serena huffed.
"Fine, then watch closely." A mischievous smile curved his lips as he lifted one finger. "Can you conjure a flame with your own magic?"
Serena nodded eagerly.
"Can you summon a bat apparition?" He raised a second finger.
Another nod from Serena.
"Then what's the problem?" Dracula laughed. "Just ignite each bat with your flame, and guide them to every Inferi."
"What?" Serena's expression crumpled. "Who could possibly control that many bats all at once…"
"Exactly," Dracula said with a grin. "Which means you still have a long way to go."
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