Scene
Above the shattered world — red sky split by storms of flame and blood.
Dregoth, the colossal blood dragon, roars — wings shredding clouds. Upon his armored back stands Dracula, cloak whipping, sword drawn. Beneath him, oceans of blood spiral through the air like living rivers.
Opposite him: Muhamed astride the giant Holy Spirit Warrior — a towering, human-shaped guardian clad in blinding silver, eyes burning with divine fire. Muhamed grips its crown like a throne, sword of holy flame in hand.
They face each other — no ground left, only sky and ruin.
Dracula (voice like thunder):
"Crimson Blood — DESTROY!"
He raises his blade — veins of blood explode outward, carving burning scars through the clouds, the air, even the space itself. The wind screams — reality tears.
Muhamed leaps, the Holy Spirit Warrior swings its titanic sword — clang! Sparks like suns.
Muhamed:
"I won't let you desecrate this world, Dracula! This ends with you!"
Dracula smiles — crimson steam curls from his eyes.
Dracula:
"Then perish — Scarlet Genesis!"
His blood swirls, expands — devouring the sky. Entire dimensions warp — forests, mountains far below dissolve into rivers of living blood, fed into Dracula's domain.
Muhamed (shouting):
"HOLY SPIRIT — DESTRUCTION OF DESTRUCTION!"
A haloed cross ignites behind him. The Holy Spirit Warrior's blade glows white — it cleaves the sky, cuts through Dracula's sea of blood — BOOM! An eruption of light tears Dregoth's face apart — half his scales melt in holy fire.
Dracula staggers — one eye glaring, unyielding.
Dracula (snarling):
"Enough — Dregoth, regenerate!"
Blood knits dragonflesh — bone grows back in seconds.
Dracula (raising arms wide):
"Blood Crimson Oblivion — let all be NOTHING!"
The entire horizon floods with red. Stone, air, stars — they dissolve into liquid ruin. The world blurs — possibility, time, even memory turns to dust within Dracula's crimson domain.
Muhamed roars — the Holy Spirit Warrior lifts its sword — channels pure divine ruin.
Muhamed:
"HOLY SPIRIT — VOID ERASURE!"
A sphere of emptiness blooms — eats Dracula's storm. The clash twists space — Crack! The dimension buckles — Dregoth screams as his scales peel away. Muhamed's flesh burns under the Holy Spirit's backlash — holy marks searing his skin.
But Dracula stands — one hand on Dregoth's skull, laughing, blood trailing like serpents.
Dracula:
"Ragnarök of Blood! All endings — MINE!"
The crimson vortex engulfs them both — the Holy Spirit Warrior shatters — Muhamed is hurled free — impaled by countless veins of blood. He gasps, falls — the void half-formed.
Suddenly — a burst of radiance — wings of molten gold.
An Angel descends — blade of dawn in hand.
Angel (voice echoing through all creation):
"Dracula, Child of the Abyss — ENOUGH."
In one swing — the angel's sword pierces Dracula's chest. Dregoth's howl becomes silence — the dragon's flesh petrifies, turning to stone that falls from the sky like meteors.
Dracula snarls — tries to speak — only blood bubbles from his lips.
Scene: Dracula's End and Kon's Theft
Dracula staggers as the angel's sword pierces him clean through the chest. He tries to lift his sword one last time, but his fingers slip — the blade clatters into the blood-soaked ground. He falls to his knees, eyes still burning with defiance, then collapses fully. The battlefield falls silent except for the echo of the angel's wings fading into the night sky.
Nearby, Muhammad's body lies broken too — the angel lifts his fallen warrior's spirit and vanishes in a burst of holy light, leaving the scorched ground behind.
Dracula's corpse is sealed in a hidden tomb — stone walls, ancient runes, traps guarding it fiercely. The land falls into uneasy silence.
One year later — or rather, moments later for Kon.
Kon stands before the tomb with Fuko, Victor, and Hazo. He glances at the sealed entrance, wards flickering in the dark.
Kon (calmly, to his people):
"You know what to do."
Fuko and Victor nod. Hazo cracks his knuckles. They slip through the traps like shadows, knives and wires in hand. The guards inside barely have time to shout — blades flash, throats open, silence returns.
Kon steps into the cold tomb chamber. He wipes dust from the stone coffin with his glove, smiles faintly.
Kon (low, satisfied):
"Finally… his body."
He snaps his fingers — the heavy lid slides aside, revealing Dracula's corpse, still unnaturally intact, skin pale but strangely rooted with veins like dead roots. Kon inspects him like inspecting a treasure.
Kon (murmuring):
"But sadly, you won't rest here forever. Small box for you… the Box of Dimensions."
A black, rune-marked box hums open beside him. Tendrils of energy coil around Dracula's body, pulling it in gently but completely. The lid snaps shut with a cold click.
Suddenly, a dark guard — a black-armored figure — bursts from the shadows, blade aimed at Kon's throat.
Kon only tilts his head, sidesteps like drifting smoke — drives a hidden blade into the guard's chest. The man falls without a sound.
Kon turns to the others, box under his arm.
Kon (calm, to Fuko and Victor):
"We're done here. Let's go."
They vanish into the night — leaving the ruined tomb silent again, holding only dust and old lies