Kokabiel's POV
I looked over the Romanian lands from above the clouds, my position giving me a clear view of the sprawling countryside below.
It had been almost a week since the ceremony in Greece. After that brief stop and the subsequent diplomatic chaos I'd deliberately stirred up for Michael regarding Celeste and Hera joining Heaven—I'd decided to fly over Europe and observe the developing situation personally.
Michael had apparently learned from his mistakes and directly played ignorant, trying to dump the talk on my shoulder. He was awfully pleased with himself, for about 40 seconds.
But he didn't think I would be petty enough to see it through my Omniscience and already written a letter to the greeks, to show up in heaven to talk with Michael about the issue. I even teleported the envoys directly from the foot of Olympus so they don't take a long time.
The look on his face was priceless when he was met with the confused looking greek envoys suddenly found themselves seated across him. Gabriel of course found it hilarious and helped Michael with the delegates.
I smiled and looked across the lands that stretched bellow.
The Medieval era was ending. Dying, really.
It was currently the year 1452, and the world was on the cusp of massive changes that most mortals couldn't even begin to comprehend.
The Ottomans were busy finalizing their elaborate plans to conquer Constantinople. They would launch their historic campaign next year.
A brutal siege that would end the Byzantine Empire, the last true successor of Eastern Rome, officially and permanently. The great walls that had stood for over a thousand years would finally fall.
The Holy Roman Empire would continue existing under the Habsburg dynasty from the Austria-German lands, remaining a major power in Europe for centuries to come.
But it would be Rome in name only, a pale shadow wearing the title of an empire that had once ruled the known world. And in time, theytoo will fall like the rest.
I wasn't particularly emotional about any of it.
All empires and dynasties were destined to fall eventually. That was simply the nature of mortal civilizations.
Dynasties rose with ambition and desire , they peaked with power and culture, they declined through corruption and complacency, and they finally collapsed under their own weight. The cycle repeated endlessly throughout history, an eternal pattern.
If the Byzantine Empire had actually been in a stable situation, or if they'd been ruling justly and wisely over their people and brought prosperity, I might have felt a small measure of pity for their incoming destruction.
But this Rome? It was merely a shadow of its former glory.
The grand vision that young boy Octavius spoke to me, who would become the first Emperor of Rome, had dreamed for his empire had long since vanished.
That dream of bringing civilization, law, and order to the known world had been replaced entirely by greed, corruption, and decadence at every level of Byzantine society. Even now, rather than uniting, they fought their petty political battles against their own , leaving them weakened further.
This end was honestly a mercy. A clean break rather than continued slow decay.
Britain and France were just about to end their pointless, destructive feud—the so-called Hundred Years' War. What a ridiculous name for what was essentially a meaningless bloodbath that had damaged the fundamental foundations of both lands without producing any meaningful gains for either side.
Millions dead. Economies ruined. Entire regions depopulated.
And for what? Pride? Succession claims? Territorial disputes that would be forgotten in a few generations?
Soon that war would finally conclude, and these two nations would become separate sovereign powers officially agreeing to stay within their own borders.
Although their rivalry would continue in different, more subtle forms for centuries to come. Some hatreds ran too deep to ever truly die.
Britain would go through its own brutal civil war shortly after—the Wars of the Roses—further demonstrating their internal decay and instability.
And then, to maintain their nobles' lavish and excessive lifestyles, they would eventually start looking greedily at the lands across the sea. At resources they could steal, populations they could enslave, territories they could claim.
They would take from others whatever they could grasp with their ships and guns, gradually creating an empire where the sun supposedly never set.
An empire built on blood and exploitation that would eventually crumble just like all the others before it.
At least Italy would provide the Renaissance era in the coming decades. That would be genuinely worth witnessing. The explosion of art, science, philosophy, and human creativity that would reshape European culture.
I would love to visit during that period, perhaps in a century or so. Experience that cultural flowering in person rather than just reading about it in history books afterward.
I was brought out of my historical musings by Grayfia's professional tone cutting cleanly through my thoughts.
"Kokabiel-sama, Sariel-san and the Guardian Angel tactical unit are in position and ready. They're about to launch their attack on the vampire gathering. They ask for your permission."
I nodded without looking away from the landscape spread out below us. "They can proceed with the attack as planned. No need to inform me of every tactical detail.
They should be more than capable of handling this situation without my direct oversight. You can step in personally only if there's someone unexpectedly strong that they can't handle, but I doubt that."
Grayfia bowed respectfully. "Yes, my lord. According to our intelligence gathered over the past weeks, other than the heads of the four major vampire clans, there aren't many Ultimate-class vampires present at the gathering.
The primary targets have been identified as Voivode Vlad Tepes of Rumania, Duchess Carmilla von Hofstein of Austria, Countess Elizabeth Bathory of Hungary, and Lord Alistair Ruthven of Britannia."
I raised an eyebrow, turning to look at her with genuine surprise. "Huh. Why did they all gather in one location like this? I thought the clan heads were supposed to stick to their respective territories to avoid direct conflict and power struggles among themselves. That's been their arrangement for centuries."
I frowned, already regretting past decisions. "I knew it. I absolutely knew I should have locked up all the humanoid monsters in the Underworld along with the devils when I had the chance. Michael shouldn't have spoken up so passionately for their right to roam freely among human populations considering their former humanity."
Grayfia coughed lightly, clearly not willing to comment directly on that particular political decision.
"I believe they are planning to unite their separate clans into one family, and attempt to take over Europe from the shadows, my lord. Our intelligence network indicates they've already placed key figures and thralls in most of the ruling dynasties across the continent."
She continued reading from the detailed report she'd prepared. "It is said that Vlad Tepes's father was on the verge of becoming their acknowledged king. The first unified vampire monarch in centuries, before vampire hunters from the church and house Belmont tracked him down and killed both him and his wife in a coordinated attack."
I opened my eyes in intesrest. " House Belmont? Did that brat Leon actually made something of himself? I just gave him some knowledge about supernatural world since he was attacked due to being the wielder of Canis Lykaon of his generation."
Grayfia chuckled. " You have an eye for talent my lord. Leon Belmont founded the Belmont family and became renowned for their vampire hunting.
Even some werewolves and Strgoi fell victim to them. They even killed the head of House Naberius couple generations back. I'll share the reports to you later if you wish." I nodded, signaling her to go on.
She continued with the report again, "Vlad Tepes, who was being held hostage with the Ottomans at the time as part of a political arrangement, decided to escape and return home to take over his homeland after receiving news of their brutal deaths."
"The Ottomans, being entirely focused and busy with their upcoming campaign against Constantinople, decided to let him go rather than pursuing with their full might. They had bigger concerns than one escaped hostage.
But apparently Vlad obtained two extremely powerful artifacts from somewhere during his return journey—mysterious red and black stones that grant immense supernatural power to their wielder. He then challenged the Ottomans and won several victories till they made a ceasefire pact."
She paused, flipping to another page. "Additionally, he's gathered a group of humans who practice dark magic and serve him willingly, almost fanatically.
These practitioners possess the ability to transform normal humans into various types of monsters through forbidden rituals. They call themselves Forgemasters, and they've been building him an army."
I raised one hand to silence her before she could continue further with the intelligence report. It's taking time and I would rather see for myself what changed. " Thank you Grayfia, I'll take a look for myself."
There were far too many inconsistencies in this entire situation. Too many elements that didn't quite fit together properly, like puzzle pieces from different sets forced into the same picture.
It felt like the world itself was in the active process of changing somehow, with reality shifting and adjusting to accommodate new narratives that hadn't existed before.
I needed to see this clearly. To understand what was actually happening here beyond the surface events.
I closed my eyes and activated my omniscience, allowing my consciousness to expand outward and perceive all possible timelines branching from this moment.
I needed to see what the future actually held in store for this region. Specifically, I wanted to examine timelines where neither I nor the angels intervened at all, the completely natural progression of events without any outside interference.
I looked through hundreds upon hundreds of branching possibilities, examining each timeline carefully to determine the best course of action.
What I found was confusing, chaotic, and deeply tragic underneath all the surface blood and violence.
The vision opened before me like a book whose pages I could turn at will.
Vlad Tepes, or Count Dracula as they call him now.
I saw him as a young boy, bright-eyed and idealistic, being taken as a hostage to the Ottoman court. The humiliation and fear in his eyes as he was separated from his family. The determination that grew in him during those years of captivity.
I saw the unlikely friendship that developed between him and the young prince Mehmed. Two boys from enemy nations, finding common ground in their shared captivity of political expectations and duty.
Yet there was always a shadow of hatred behind the friendship. Vld never considered that place his home, and Mehmed's father never failed to make him remember that he lived at their mercy.
I saw the moment Vlad learned that his father had made a deal with vampires for eternal life and power to retake Wallachia.
The disgust on the boy's face. The vow he made to never follow that path, to never trade his humanity for power like his corrupt father had.
Then the vision shifted.
News arriving of his parents' deaths. Vampire hunters had tracked them down and killed them both. His father's greed for immortality had led to their destruction.
Vlad then escaped from Ottoman custody, making his way back to Wallachia through dangerous territory by himself. The desperation driving him forward.
And then, the moment that changed everything.
Vlad standing at a crossroads, quite literally. A fork in a dark forest road.
One path would take him back to his homeland as a normal man. He would live, perhaps even rule for a time, but he would always be weak. Always be vulnerable. His enemies would crush him eventually.
The other path led to power. To the very thing he'd sworn to never pursue.
I watched as he stood there for hours, wrestling with the decision.
Finally, he took the second path.
Not out of greed, like his father. But out of desperate necessity. He needed power to save his people from Ottoman rule. He needed strength to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
The ritual was horrific. I watched him trade away pieces of his humanity as the transformation take hold. He screamed in agony as vampire blood rewrote his very existence.
But he survived. And he became powerful.
The vision continued.
Vlad returned to Wallachia at the head of a small but deadly force. The brutal war he waged against the Ottomans who had held his people in subjugation for decades.
I saw battles where he used his new powers with devastating effectiveness. He tore through enemy lines like a force of nature.
Then I saw him standing over the body of the Sultan—Mehmed's father—after an anti- climactic duel.
His childhood friend's father, killed by his own hand. The look of hatred and betrayal that his former friend gave him at that moment broke something in him he never knew he had.
Then came the liberation of Wallachia. The people cheering their returning hero, their savior, their prince who had freed them from foreign rule.
Vlad standing before crowds with tears of joy and pride streaming down his face. Finally, he had done it. Finally, his people were free.
This should have been his moment of triumph.
Then the vision darkened.
The church authorities, who had done nothing during the Ottoman occupation, suddenly took interest. They looked at Vlad and saw not a hero, but a monster. More importantly, they saw his accumulated wealth and lands.
I watched them deliberate in their chambers, plotting. They couldn't allow a vampire—no matter how heroic—to rule a Christian nation. It set a bad precedent.
And besides, his wealth could fund so many of their projects...
The denunciation came swiftly and publicly.
Vlad, savior of Wallachia, was declared a heretic and enemy of the faith. A demon in human form. A monster who had deceived the people.
The puppet ruler was installed almost immediately, a weak nobleman who would do whatever the church commanded.
And the people? The same people Vlad had bled for, fought for, killed for?
They turned on him without hesitation.
I watched Vlad's face as the crowd that had cheered him weeks before now threw stones and curses. The betrayal in his eyes. The heartbreak of losing everything.
He gave a bitter laugh as he realized what his friend felt. He thought he deserved it for his sins. For becoming a monster.
But he didn't raise his hand against them. Even then, even after everything, he still loved them too much to harm them.
The vision showed him leaving quietly, relocating to the remote forests and mountains of Transylvania. Building his castle with magic and the labor of loyal thralls who had followed him into exile.
He had made a solemn vow to never leave that castle again. To isolate himself completely from the world that had rejected him so cruelly. Never again would he involve himself with the humans who had rejected him so cruelly after he sacrificed everything for them.
And he didn't leave. Not for approximately twenty years.
Yet all vows eventually end up broken somehow. It's the nature of promises made in grief and anger.
And this particular vow was broken for the most human reason of all—love.
A young, smart and lively woman named Lisa, far too curious and brave for her own good, had decided to venture into the forbidden castle to seek knowledge.
She was a woman of science and reason, yet she found someone utterly magical in that castle—something that defied all her carefully constructed logic.
I watched their first meeting in silence.
"I want to be a doctor," she told him during one of their early conversations. "I want to help people. But the church hoards all medical knowledge, calls it heresy for common people to practice medicine. I heard rumors that the lord of this castle has knowledge from ancient times."
Vlad had laughed bitterly. "The lord of this castle is a monster, girl. You should run while you can."
"You don't seem like a monster to me. You seem lonely."
That simple observation cracked something in him.
Vlad had tried repeatedly to drive her away, to frighten her into leaving for her own safety. But her stubborn persistence to learn, to understand, to know—it had gradually melted the cold, hardened heart of the monster he'd become.
A monster who slowly learned to love again.
I watched their relationship develop over months. The walls around Vlad's heart slowly crumbling. The monster learning to be human again through love.
Their wedding, small and private. Just the two of them and a handful of loyal servants.
The birth of their son, Adrian. Though the boy would later take the name Alucard. Vlad holding the tiny baby with such gentleness, such awe, such fear that he might somehow hurt this precious, fragile thing.
"He has your eyes," Lisa said, smiling up at her husband.
"And your kindness, I hope," Vlad replied softly.
Their family was complete. Happy and content.
Soon after, they were preparing to welcome another child. The husband and wife both eagerly anticipated the new addition to their family.
The joy in their household was palpable. Adrian would have a sibling. Their family would grow.
This was the life Vlad had never dared dream of during those dark years of isolation. This was healing. This was redemption.
This was hope.
A genuinely happy story that could have had its peaceful, fairy-tale ending right there.
But fate decided otherwise. Fate is often cruel like that.
Lisa had been a brave woman, perhaps too brave. She had wanted the people to finally know the truth and accept her husband and child for who they really were.
I watched Lisa making her decision. She wanted to go to the nearby town, to speak to the people. To tell them the truth about her husband. To help them understand that he wasn't the monster the church claimed.
"They deserve to know," she told Vlad. "They deserve to know that the man who saved them isn't evil. That their hero never stopped caring for them, even after they rejected him."
Vlad was hesitant. "Lisa, it's dangerous. They won't listen. They are but blind sheeps. The church has poisoned them against me for too long."
"Then I'll un-poison them. I'll show them the truth. I'm a human, not a vampire. They'll listen to me."
"And if they don't?"
"They will. I have faith in human goodness, even if you think you lost yours."
He couldn't refuse her. She was too determined, too idealistic, too brave for her own good.
He sighed. " Atleast wait till I return with Adrian and te herbs and elixirs you seek."
But she went out anyway.
The church leadership didn't appreciate her honesty at all. Neither did the common people who'd been thoroughly brainwashed by years of propaganda.
The vision showed me what happened next in excruciating detail.
Lisa arriving in the town square, calling for people to listen. Her impassioned speech about truth and understanding. The way some people actually seemed moved by her words.
Then the priest appearing. His face twisted with rage and fear—fear that his comfortable lies might be exposed.
"WITCH!" he screamed. "She admits to laying with the demon! She carries his spawn in her belly! She spreads his corruption!The Anti Christ shall be reborn from her cursed womb!"
The crowd's mood shifted instantly. Fear and superstition won over reason, as they always did.
They seized her.
"Wait!" Lisa cried out. "Just wait! Let me explain! You don't understand!"
They didn't wait.
They bound her to a stake in the town square. The same square where Vlad had once been cheered as a hero.
Lisa wasn't afraid for herself. I could see that clearly.
She was afraid for her unborn child.
"Please," she begged as they piled wood around her feet. "Please, I'm pregnant. I know you hate my husband, but this child is innocent. Please, just wait. Just wait until the baby is born. Then you can do what you want with me. Please. PLEASE!"
Her desperate pleas would have evoked empathy and mercy from even the cruelest of humans under normal circumstances. Yet these people didn't feel any remorse.
They just cheered louder, celebrating that they were burning two monsters instead of just one.
The priest lit the torch himself, smiling as he did so.
"Burn the witch!" the crowd chanted. "Burn the demon's whore! Burn them both!"
Lisa screamed—not in pain yet, but in desperate plea. "My baby! Please! My baby hasn't done anything wrong! Please!"
The flames caught. Began to spread.
Lisa's screams changed from words to incoherent sounds of agony.
I heard her trying to hold on. Trying to survive long enough for maybe, somehow, someone to save her child.
But there was no one coming. No rescue. No miracle.
Just fire and smoke and the cheering of a crowd that had lost all humanity.
I could hear it across time. The hope dying in her voice as the flames rose higher. The desperate struggle to survive just long enough for her unborn child. The resigned acceptance and unwilling farewell whispered as the fire consumed her completely.
Her last words, barely whispered through the smoke and pain:
"Adrian... my sweet boy... forgive me... take care of your father... I love—"
The flames consumed the rest.
The crowd celebrated. They danced. They sang.
They had killed a monster, they believed. They were righteous. They were holy.
They were vile wretched fools.
Because they forgot one simple truth.
Monsters are frightening because they are strong, because they often lack intelligence or empathy for humans.
But a monster who has learned what love truly means, and then had that love brutally torn away?
That kind of monster is a hundred times more terrifying than any mindless beast.
The vision shifted again.
Vlad was returning to the town, having sensed something wrong through the bond he shared with his wife.
He arrived to find ashes. Just ashes where the stake had been.
And the people celebrating.
One of them saw him. Pointed. "Look! The demon comes! Let's burn him too!"
They actually approached him with torches and crosses, these people who moments ago had burned his pregnant wife alive.
The rage that filled Vlad in that moment was beyond anything I'd ever witnessed. It wasn't just anger—it was an all-consuming wrath .
But he didn't act immediately. He still remembered his wife's words, that he was not a monster. That he still had a son to looke after.
He simply stood there as they threw rocks and curses. Stood there and looked at every single face in that crowd. Memorized them.
Then he spoke, his voice completely devoid of emotion:
"You have committed a sin beyond forgiveness. You have murdered an innocent woman. You have killed an unborn child. You have done this in the name of your god and your righteousness. Even myself, who you call a demon, never committed such an atrocity."
The crowd jeered. The priest shouted back, "Begone, demon! Your witch deserved her fate!"
Vlad continued as if he hadn't heard. "I loved this nation once. I bled for it. I damned myself to save it. And I would have let your betrayal stand.
I would have lived in my castle and left you in peace, because she asked me to. Because she believed in redemption and forgiveness."
He paused, and for just a moment, his voice cracked. "She was the best of your disgusting race. But you killed her. You killed our child. You killed the only thing in this world that made me remember what it meant to be human."
The crowd fell silent. Something in his tone finally penetrated their righteous fervor.
"So I will give you one year," Vlad said softly. "One year to settle your affairs. To make peace with your god. To tell your loved ones goodbye. One year before I return and show you what a real monster looks like."
Someone in the crowd laughed nervously. "You can't kill us all! We're protected by the church! By God himself!"
Vlad looked at the man who spoke. Just looked at him. " God doesn't exist here."
The man collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. The people around him screamed in fear and moved away.
"One year," Vlad repeated. "Use it wisely."
Then he disappeared.
The crowd stood in shocked silence. Then someone said, "He's lying. He can't kill an entire town by himself. Even a monster has limits."
Another spoke with a smirk. " He fought for this very nation and us. Many of us fought beside him. He can't bear to harm us."
They convinced themselves he was bluffing. Because the alternative, accepting what they'd just brought upon themselves was too terrifying.
The vision accelerated.
I watched Vlad during that year.
He didn't grieve in any normal sense. He couldn't. The grief was too overwhelming. It would have destroyed him if he let himself feel it fully.
Instead, he channeled it into preparation.
He hunted down every vampire clan in Europe. Challenged their leaders. Defeated them one by one.
Carmilla fell after a three-day battle that leveled an entire forest.
Elizabeth submitted when Vlad proved immune to all her blood magic.
Ruthven bent the knee after Vlad destroyed his entire bloodline in a single night.
They all served him now. Terrified of him. Aware that he was something beyond them all.
He found the Forgemasters—dark magicians who had been cast out by the church for their forbidden research.
"Can you create an army of them?" Vlad asked them.
" What about source material, my lord? We need a lot of sacrifices for such a scale."
"Do what you must. The dead. The damned. The forgotten. I don't care. I need an army that will follow orders without question."
"We can do this. But it will take time."
"You have ten months."
They worked frantically, creating monsters from corpses and dark rituals. Building Vlad the army he needed.
Meanwhile, Vlad's son Adrianl, now calling himself Alucard, discovered his father's plans.
"Father, you can't do this," the boy pleaded. "Mother wouldn't want this. She believed in humanity. She died believing in their capacity for good!"
"Your mother died screaming in agony," Vlad replied coldly. "She died begging them to spare you, her unborn child. They didn't feel pity, they laughed and cheered as the flames took her. Don't speak to me about what she would want."
"This path will make you the monster they claimed you were!"
"I don't care."
"I do! I won't let you dishonor mother's memory like this!"
"Then stop me. If you can."
Alucard tried, but he lost badly. His father was a warrior with decades of experience after all. He knew he could not beat him alone.
So he fled, seeking help. Seeking anyone who might be able to halt his father's descent into darkness. He hadn't been seen in the region since his departure months ago.
And now the promised year of reprieve was ending. Tomorrow night, to be precise.
The vision showed me the town of Târgoviște preparing for their festival. The one-year anniversary celebration of "the witch's" death.
They had convinced themselves Vlad's threat was empty. A year had passed and nothing happened. Clearly he had been bluffing.
They had already decorated the town square and prepared special foods.
One man even suggested, as a joke, that they burn an effigy of the vampire to commemorate their victory over evil.
Everyone laughed. It was decided to be the main event of tomorrow.
Tomorrow, the ignorant people of Wallachia had chosen to hold a grand festival celebrating the one-year anniversary of "the dark witch's" death, completely unaware that their festival was about to transform into an absolute nightmare.
Truly, human foolishness knows absolutely no limits whatsoever.
To be completely honest, I didn't particularly blame Vlad for his actions.
He was acting out of grief and vengeance, exactly like any other human would after losing their beloved family in such a horrific manner.
But in his all-consuming grief and rage, he had decided to become the very monster his wife had desperately not wished for him to become.
He was spitting on her memory with every step he took down this dark path.
Fate can be rather cruel at times. Especially to those who deserve better.