A/N: Grab a cup of tea/coffee because this chapter is loooong. And the reason? I couldn't find a good spot to split it. But, yeah, hope you enjoy this bit -even if grammar mistakes had managed to slip through my fingers along the way, pardon for that.
I have also updated my profile with the links to the art pieces! Now you can see the designs of the new characters!
Distant crows, hoots, and slurred cries rang in the younger vampire's ears. Alucard let out a spasmodic, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering open. Again, a glob of sludge climbed up his throat and he swallowed.
Slaughter. The crisp contrast between red and white gleamed in his mind still and the vagrant boy's expression... Accusation. It was... as if the vagabond knew the Wolf, this alleged savior of mortal men, could have protected him. But he hesitated. He had let the boy down. A guiltless child had been condemned to death.
Despite all that, the white-haired warrior harbored no ill will towards his sire. He knew better. He had delved into the lore. He had learned to ignore his disgust and value data over meaningless enmity. Facts over biased prejudice. And now, he needed to find his father. Understand his ground behind this... deed.
He longed for something stashed away in the Brotherhood's Hall of Records, flared in his mind. Something only an accomplished rogue could secure. What did the Lord of Vampires yearn to find there? Not a weapon, that's for certain. Blueprints? Ancient tomes? Writs?
The roaring cheer outside this dust-covered haven swelled in volume. Nonplussed, Alucard jerked to his feet and gazed round.
Crudely-crafted armor, serrated swords, tarnished helmets mantled in cobwebs... this looked like a long-neglected armory or a storage room than anything else. Even so, the blind, stone walls encircling him were quite familiar. The castle. The Maelstrom had sent him to the castle. And some sort of a grandiose event was taking place at this very moment?
Snatching and slipping on a worn, skull-molded mask – he couldn't risk being recognized by any of the castle inhabitants, – Alucard exited the storeroom. A feeble disguise, even he had to admit, yet the Lieutenant's garb had served its purpose once. Sure enough, the platemail had proved to be less eye-catching than his daily attire of a teal, armor-plated coat he was fortunate enough to awaken in. Or entombed in, depending on the perspective.
Several malformed, wingless vampires rushed past him, growling and snarling. Without any other sensible option, Alucard shadowed their tread into a circular chamber. The disk-shaped elevator shuddered as it rumbled down into the bowels of the castle.
The blistering air breathed in Trevor's face as the monolithic gates swung open. The City of the Damned. The volcanic undercroft riddled with fleshless bones of the guilty and the innocent alike.
Normally, only harpies, jailors, and their pigmy-sized minions could be found patrolling their dominions here. But now every single unholy abomination that dwelt within these halls had gathered here for a yet-unknown festivity. Hundreds, thousands. Grisly dishonored vampires and feral lycanthropes. Burly prison watchers and hulking suits of armor. Runty hunchbacks and shrieking harpies.
A surprising number of humans wandered amongst these creatures as well... Who were they? Prisoners? Guests? Subordinates? They all donned an embroidered crimson cloak with a hood.
"Fellow beasts of the night!" An imperious female voice overshadowed the furor, and Alucard's head jolted. A tall, redheaded woman in a gray-blue dress stood on a balcony overlooking the pits.
She was imposing, domineering even, but even that savage beauty could not mask the fact that she traded her humanity for undeath a long time ago. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight, and a glaring red light had all but devoured her irises. However, unlike her less fortunate vampiric kin whose features were twisted and misshapen, she appeared normal, humanlike.
"Today marks a special occasion!" the redhead continued when the cacophony died down. "An extraordinary one! On this day, exactly a hundred years ago, our rightful Lord had returned from his exile to bring this wretched, mortal realm under his rule! To stigmatize the rebellious curs, to make them wipe away their debt!" She paused and let out a small chuckle. "And how. They offer gold and jewelry as their tribute, hoping it would appease our hunger."
A howl of unrestrained laughter cascaded down the monstrous crowd. Alucard feigned a weak chortle, despite the chill trickling down his spine.
"It is unfortunate that we do not accept their gaudy trinkets." The woman bared her fangs in a grim smile. "Ah, but let us not veer off course... Today is a celebration! A jubilee! And nothing will spoil this auspicious occasion. Denizens and outsiders alike... the Prince of Darkness!"
The shadows beside the redhead twined and twirled, weaving an intricate shape, and soon enough, the Dragon loomed before them, head tilted upward. A deafening clatter chimed through the air as hundreds of beasts toppled to their knees, heads bowed in reverence. Alucard, for the lack of a better option, followed their example and gazed into the charred earth. It would be foolish to attract hostile attention with his father's horde yawning at his heels.
"Stand." Dracul's lenient tone enounced, and the younger vampire rose to his feet alongside other creatures of nightmare. He promptly adjusted his skull-mask.
"As Naparca had already told you, today is the day of sublime jubilation." A brief smile graced the elder's lips. "We have laid our foundation for the hereafter. The spokesmen of God had absconded after enduring a crippling defeat near the hamlet of Nifhel. And then the surviving associates were deceived by their own kin."
"We live only to serve you, our Liege." The group in red raiment echoed, groveling.
"I'm delighted to hear that. I understand that each and every one of you have your own reasons in doing so. Be that wealth, glory or, perchance even, blood-thirstiness. Yet, I know that the vast majority of you had never taken a life before. You may feel apprehensive, fearful for your being, but heed my words. You need not fear pain if you give it out first."
"We-" the group's leader stammered out. "W-we understand, your Highness."
"Good." Dracul leaned back, a sly smirk quirking the corners of his mouth. "As for the main portion of this celebration-" He glanced at Naparca who had arrived dragging a limp man by his shin. "It is a tournament of flesh, but somewhat modified. There will be three individual ladders. The one who overcomes the challenges posed, and triumphs will be... honored."
"Honored and rewarded," Naparca added, setting down two embellished goblets on the balcony's railing. "Fortune, power, and recognition amongst their peers and citizens of the princedom alike. There is no greater prize."
"The Sangreal Gift?" One of the jailors wheezed.
"Indeed." The redhead nodded, hauling the comatose man upright. "Of course, we could have informed you all in advance, but we value ingenuity and raw skill. Only he or she who prevails without resorting to falsehoods or deception will be blessed with this gift."
The gathering stirred, subdued whispers engulfing everyone present. The supreme vampires waited for about a minute, giving the legion ample time to discuss the message, and called out for their attention once more.
"Before this competition can take place, I would like to propose a toast." Dracul seized the man by the neck and lifted his lax frame before the crowd. The soldier's eyelids fluttered open, and he started to writhe and choke, bony fingers scratching at the vampire's hold. Alucard's hands rolled into fists, but he willed himself to remain still.
"I present: the living witnesses of Nifhel! All one-hundred and twenty-two of them. The elite soldiers of the Brotherhood. Chaplains, clerics, and priests. Landholders and peasants. Don't be disheartened if you get one of latter than the former: the fluid in their veins is the same." The elder's canines pushed out and he smiled. "Denizens and outsiders alike... I drink to your health." With this, he plunged his fangs into the soldier's throat, and the man's screams submerged in a spout of crimson.
Tendons snapped, flesh ruptured as the victim's larynx was ripped out and the contents emptied into the pair of gilded goblets. His chin and chest now dyed red, the vampire tossed the lifeless body into the crowd where it was instantly devoured. Picking up the chalices and offering one to the redhead beside him, Dracul gave a brief nod of his head.
The concealed doors in the City's volcanic rock moved away, exposing dozens of ragged and frightened human faces. A thrilling echo reverberating off of the dungeon's vaulted ceiling as the monstrous legion cried out in unison. Moments later, the bloodcurdling creatures pounced forward, swords, teeth, and talons outstretched. The growl of hundreds of lycans and lesser undead eclipsed the shrieks of the dying.
On the balcony, the two clinked their goblets and laughed, his deep and hers tuneful ideally complementing each other.
The smell of pouring gore stung Alucard's nostrils, and he let out a trembling breath. With the vast part of his father's army now gluttonously guzzling the lifeblood of the innocent, an opportunity had presented itself. What had prevented him from spreading his form in a whirl of bats, reaching out for the balcony, and engaging the pair in a vicious fight? The element of surprise would have tipped the equilibrium in his favor, and his Crissaegrim would have swiftly cut them both to ribbons!
Except that without the magical rapier perforating his heart, his sire would come back. And Alucard needed the blade in order to outmaneuver the swarm. The Maelstrom might be weaving this dimension, but – Trevor cursed under his breath, – it seemed so real! Could he die in this domain, the Wolf told himself. A question he had neglected to ask.
A faint chill rushed down Alucard's back, and his muscles tautened. His father was peering right at him, eyes narrowed. Ah. He had failed to move along the bloodthirsty crowd, hadn't he. And a lone, heavily-armored soldier who refused to partake in the 'banquet' would, little doubt, arouse suspicion.
"Seldom do I see someone not willing to participate in the festivities." Dracul's tone was smooth, yet in some way it had managed to dwarf the fiendish clamor. "That metal your armor is fashioned from... it doesn't originate from this plane. Who are you, outsider?"
"Um..." Alucard lowered the pitch of his voice, making it throaty. "I come from the Shadow Plane. I am one of the late Sovereign's Officers. My Liege." He hesitated – Naparca burrowed her glower into the warrior's skull, – and knelt.
"You're a demon."
"Daemon, my Lord," the Wolf corrected, gaze affixed on the tip of his boot.
"Rise." The elder took a sip of the dark liquid and smirked. "Your choice of weapon?"
"Rapier." Alucard brandished Crissaegrim, and a flux of icy particles swirled about the blade.
The Wolf's eyes darted from side to side. The legion had finished their fiendish feast and were slowly encircling him, beadlike eyes shining in anticipation. Alucard bristled, but stayed his hand.
"Hm." Dracul tapped his clawed fingertips against the balcony's railing. "Why did you abandon your position only now? If you are the former Sovereign's deputy you should have reacted to his demise a full century ago." He set his goblet aside, and shadows warped around him. Seconds later, he, accompanied by the redhead and a strange knight, stood before the masqueraded warrior within arm's reach.
"Alucard." The Wolf managed to keep a wry grimace from his face as his mask was yanked off in a swift motion.
"Alucard! The rebel-son! The rebel-son!" the beasts shrieked around him, baleful. "He who had arisen against his own sire! Scum! Traitor!" Yawning maws and hideous talons leaped closer. "Die!"
A throbbing red whip lashed at the brutes, and the first row of lycanthropes tumbled down, squealing and cringing. The second hit etched into the lesser vampires' armor. The last, third swipe ripped through the entire cohort. Loud yowls and screeches racketed across the volcanic plain as the monsters shrank and cowered before the furious vampire lord.
"You shall not touch a single hair on his head," Dracul growled, the eldritch red gauntlet still outstretched. "Understood?" He turned to the Wolf. "Alucard, I-"
"How did you know it was me?" Trevor stepped back, muscles strained.
"You may have replaced your attire and swapped out your weapon, but I know how to recognize my own blood." He glanced into the scorched earth. "It is family, after all."
The white-haired warrior gazed back, head tilted to the side. "Father, we need to talk," he uttered after a pause. "In private."
Beside his father, the giant encased in a blackened ring mail guffawed. "Terrified that you are outnumbered? Whatever plan you're hatching, patricide, you will not prevail here."
Alucard sheathed his blade. "I do not wish to fight neither him, nor you. Only talk."
"Be silent, Sarpe." Dracul jerked his hand. "In private? Very well, follow me-"
"But, messire!" Sarpe proclaimed. "Messire, I implore you, let your Knaves escort you."
Knaves? The other two Eve's undead companion had referenced? "Wait," Trevor promptly added. "Is somebody by the name of Krait a part of your triad?"
"The spymaster?" Naparca's eyes rounded. "How do you-"
"I'll take that as a yes." A small smile curled the Wolf's lips. "Let them come if they so want, father. And could you summon your spymaster? I want to have a word with him as well."
"That's odd," the vampire lord murmured. "And here I wanted to introduce him to you."
"You don the God Mask," Gabriel mouthed, relaxed in spite of the blade placed under his chin. "Who are you?"
The celestial jerked her free hand, a swirling beam of light coiling around the wrist. Moments passed. The meadow ebbed away, the enraptured laughter of the children faded, and the morbid architecture of Wygol City upsurged in their place. Once again, he stood before the towering stone of the church he lurched out of almost a whole day ago. Late afternoon sunlight flowed through the streets akin to liquid gold, not as intense as it had been, yet still potent enough to make the vampire's eyes water.
This violent jolt through the Maelstrom's dimension, through the semisolid illusion of the forest, and right back into the real world... It should have resulted in some sort of an unpleasant aftermath for him. The first escape from the vortex's domain had incapacitated him for half an hour. The second had rendered him stunned. How could this severance not affect him in the slightest?
Still, his senses told him, an unfeigned avatar, this soldier of God, whoever she might or might not be, clearly possessed enough power to accomplish such a thing. And her alleged pact with the Forgotten One only supported said assumption.
Where has the daemon himself gone? Could he still be on the celestial's side? Or was he hatching a malevolent design to lead this supernal being astray for his own personal gain? Or could he be acting on the behalf of another, yet to be seen, third party?
"You are committing a mistake by trusting the savage," Gabriel murmured. "The Forgotten One will betray you the second your role in his plan is complete."
"I handle arguments and facts," the masked woman replied calmly. "Your sentiment is not backed up by evidence, henceforth it is worthless."
"'Tis the nature of the infernal creatures, my lady."
"The trait of demons, perhaps." The being's feather-shaped blade shifted a fraction of an inch closer, its touch cool against his skin. "Daemons honor their agreements. Ikay had told you that himself, hadn't he?"
The vampire's eyes narrowed. "Be that as it may. I restate my earlier question: who are you?"
"The Saint-Justicar. The Judge. Me, my brothers, and sisters reside in the uttermost layer of Purgatory. We determine the fate of those departed. I discipline those who had fallen from grace."
"Purgatory?" The corner of Gabriel's mouth quirked. "A place where, according to some methodological teachings, a soul is cleansed of all sins and greeted into the light?"
"There are many interpretations." The Justicar bowed her head. "However, you don't believe into any of them."
The knight peered at the woman, gaze heavy. "Christian doctrines, especially after the Schism, mean little to me. It's not as they are propagated, in any case. Why follow the teachings when we are but sheep led to a slaughter? Why follow when you and your beatific brethren write our destinies out in full? The useless struggle brings about only ruin and despair. I learned that lesson a long time ago."
"This cynical, mistrustful worldview had led you down this path, not fate." The celestial's voice turned ireful. "You were granted pardon. You could have started your life afresh. Free of sin. Marie even asked you to! Asked you to repent, to make amends. But, no. Her soul went only to Him, but she couldn't find solace. With tears in her eyes, she watched. Watched as you cast aside everything you once held dear: your life, your home, your family... Even your own name! You snatched her heart and ripped it apart in front of her very eyes!"
"You speak as if I had a choice, Judge." Gabriel's tone lowered a pitch. "As if I had a choice after being refused the only thing that counted in my wretched life. Just like the dreaded Lords of Shadow overseeing the ensnared Sovereign, I had diligently contained those worse than myself. I had brought death, I had condemned the living, that is correct, but that is nothing compared to what they would do if they were successful. Marie knows that. She would forgive me."
The Justicar fell silent, yet her hold on the katar's hilt remained steady. "But at what cost? You razed innumerable villages to the ground! Indoctrinated and twisted those who survived into bloodthirsty monsters! Enslaved entire races to do your bidding! But, most importantly, a million of guiltless souls lay breathless by your hand alone. They will never discover serenity. They had become the absolute matter of the castle's demon. Your blood. Your curse. Would she really forgive? Do you put your trust in her judgement?"
He did not hesitate. "Yes."
A barely audible yip of surprise escaped the soldier's gullet. "You really mean it, don't you," she voiced after a long pause.
Gabriel smiled warmly and nodded. "I do. And this-" He lifted the reassembled Horn to their eye level – the Justicar let out a gasp and staggered back, trembling from head to toe. "This is the key to her salvation. I have made a mistake. I did break her heart and I deserve to be punished for it. But now... I finally heed her request. I am making amends for the vile atrocities that I have committed. Not for my own sake, no. I don't care what happens to me. But for hers. And Trevor's."
"You... you have pieced it together." The saint's breath was rasp and uneven. "How...? It appears only before those pure of heart..."
"It doesn't matter now. What matters is that I need to see Marie. I need to inform her. If you take me in now then her life is forfeit." He canted his head. "Is she your friend, Judge?"
"Friend..." the celestial repeated. "No. No... Silence!" Her ramblings ripened into a sudden, hoarse scream. "You are telling me these things... to misdirect me. They're all lies! Fabrications! You are nothing, but a pitiless husk! A monster! You tread upon the bleached bones of the ones you hate, the ones you help, the ones you love! And now you have the nerve to try and bribe your way into Heaven?!"
The knight arched his brow at the woman's furious and unannounced outburst. "You misunderstand," Gabriel stated in a soothing tone. "I desire no such thing. All I wish... All I wish is for my loved one to see Eden again."
"Your villainous and avaricious nature will not fool me, Prince of Darkness!" the Justicar nearly screeched, bringing her weapon up once more.
"Why would I lie to you, soldier of Heaven?" the knight retorted.
"You have opposed our Father for over a millennium! Massacred thousands of His children as proof that He simply isn't worth serving! After all that, would He take pity on you? On her?"
"Her?" The vampire's lip crawled upward. "Marie had swore fealty to you, and your campaign decades ago!"
"Yet, she has abandoned her high position in Elysium for your well-being, has she not?" the Justicar declared, a tinge of complacency creeping into her voice. "By affiliating herself with you, hellspawn, she has cast aside her hard-earned reputation and power. Her fairness. She's an insurgent now, just like you. An escaped criminal I will have to apprehend."
"Apprehend?!" A single word frothed within the elder's chest as his grip around the Horn grew white-knuckled. The castle's fell demon lashed out at him, and he gave a grimace of pain. "Leave her out of this, Judge," he continued after a small reprieve.
"Afraid to acknowledge that your very existence condemns those you love?" The woman let out a jeering, yet somehow fractured, laugh.
The knight's nostrils flared as he drew breath. "You have come for me, you have said it yourself. Now, perform your duty or stand aside."
"Is that a threat?" The Justicar stirred, and a second, identical to the first, katar looped around her unoccupied hand.
"A warning." Gabriel forced through gnashed teeth. "I do not wish to fight you, celestial, but nor will I buckle under your nonsensical whim. Move aside."
The soldier's dual blades shimmered as she clashed them together in an arrangement of the holy cross. "Thereby I, the Justicar of the Governing Paragons, convict you to a scorching eternity in Sheol, vampire. May the Almighty have mercy on your soul... oh, Champion of Shadows." There, she froze, katars unsheathed.
Gabriel glared daggers at the armed, yet petrified, woman. "Your hands quiver. I can see your hesitation, Justicar of the Governing Paragons. If you are so sure of yourself, of your actions... Why do you waver?"
"I do not waver! I never have!" The celestial's voice grew strident. Almost... hysterical? "I simply have no alternative!"
The knight rounded his eyes. "You're but a subordinate! Whom do you serve? Who controls you? The Paragons? If so, listen to me! You're just a pawn! We can avoid the violent confrontation alto-"
She gave a sudden jerk of her head, the iris-less eyes of the God Mark glowering back at his own. "This... this love! This compassion for a total stranger! One who had threatened you, your family!" Here, she lowered her voice to a bare, sobbing whisper. "How? You are the embodiment of hate. Of fury. And here, I sense nothing of it. Despite my goading. My discourtesy. What had nudged you to rediscover what made you human?"
"I don't know." The corners of Gabriel's mouth sank downward. "Maybe because my better half called me a 'good man' all those years ago. Maybe because my son had forgiven me some of my errors."
"Will it live on though? This benignity within you?"
"No." The vampire shook his head.
"Why is that?"
He glanced away. "Wickedness blooms, wickedness prevails. A natural order. It's only a matter of time."
The Justicar watched him, silent and unmoving for a full minute. Bejeweled katars withering into nonexistence, her hands traveled up to her cloaked visage. A single, dry click and the God Mask chipped off, revealing a face. A face... A familiar one, despite the gilded shell about it that had obscured all of the woman's long, glossy hair.
A choked breath halted in Gabriel's throat. "Marie?!"
"The White Wolf. The Wolf Son of Dracul. It's a pleasure to meet you!" Krait shook Alucard's hand, a fervid spark reflecting in his tangerine-hued eyes. "When the news reached my ear, I could scarcely believe it! The Scion! Here! A legend in the flesh!"
Trevor paused, unsure of how to respond to such a hearty welcome. An... odd sight to behold, in particular after the merciless slaughter he had witnessed. Come to think of it, Norachai hadn't taken part in the festivity too, had he? Naparca – who Alucard figured out to be his father's unofficial consort, – had been there. Sarpe, the savage brute, had been there. But Krait had chosen to remain in the gloom for some cryptic reason.
Eyebrow arched, Alucard glanced at his father who was leaning against the wall, a weak smile on his lips. "'Tis no trickery," Dracul said. "Krait had always yearned to meet you."
"Indeed," the spymaster echoed. "It is an honor, young master!"
"Stop your mewling, Krait." Sarpe let out a hoarse huff. "You're praising the murderer of the one who sired you, remember? And he's not a lord."
"Sarpe's correct." In the far corner of the chamber, Naparca trailed her finger along the edge of her goblet. "At this time, the Wolf lacks a form of address. But... if he were to stay, he would regain his title of the formal heir. The unconditional crown of the hierarchy. Higher than us, Sarpe."
"You needn't worry," Alucard cut her off. "I will not stick around."
"You won't?" Dracul jolted his head.
"After what I've seen?" The Wolf flung his arms up, exasperated. "My past self would have cleaved you in two for what you have done, Father. The senseless massacre! This disrespect for human life! I will not oppose you, even if I should, but neither will I abide by these heinous deeds."
The vampire lord pursed his lips and looked away. "I suppose this is fair."
Alucard's eyebrows dropped a little. "Now that we have this out of the way, Father, I want you to answer one question."
"And what would that be?"
A sneer twisted the warrior's features. "What were you seeking in the heart of the Brotherhood's Hall of Records? What was of so much importance to you that you readily butchered innocent vagabonds and twisted one into a creature like us?" He gestured at Krait.
Alucard had awaited for his Father to begin questioning just how he had obtained this information, maybe even try and rationalize his actions, but... no. Instead, Dracul's hand slipped under his crimson coat and pulled out a scroll. The sealing wax on it had been broken. Without a single word, the elder drew near and offered the Wolf the parchment.
"What is this?" Alucard accepted the paper, brow knitted.
"Unfurl it to see," Dracul murmured.
Squinting with distrust, the warrior complied and unfolded the paper. The well-known handwriting of the Order's monks skipped before his eyes.
Certificate of birth #739
Belmont, Trevor. Born October 21st, 1047, cloister of the Brotherhood of Light #17. Date of registration, October 21st, 1047. Name of father: Belmont, Gabriel. Maiden name of mother: Damour, Marie Agnes. Document scripted and sealed on October 26th, 1047.
Signed by midwife Irina Glinka.
There was a postscript bound to the edge of the paper. Mother passed away on October 22nd, 1047. Father had left after the funeral, but never returned. Presumptively dead. The child has been assigned the status of an orphan. Entrusted with the Brotherhood on October 23rd, 1047.
Another note. November 1st, 1047. Lord protect this child, son of the hero who had ridden the World of the shadow. His sacrifice will be remembered, young Trevor.
The delicate parchment trembled in Alucard's hands. Heaving a sigh, he returned the document to his father. Dracul gave it a long, curious look before tucking it away.
"All that..." Trevor began, evaluating his words. "Just to know my name?"
"I had to know what name your Mother had given you, Trevor." The vampire lord put his hand on the warrior's shoulder, just above the gap where Azazel's spittle had carved through. "Understand."
"I understand," Alucard mouthed. "I would have done the same. But-" He glanced at the elder. "Was it really worth it? You were their savior. People view you as a saint, and now... you slaughter them like mindless cattle." He shrugged his father's hand off. "Too much. You're asking me to forgive you too much. As of now, at any rate."
"Krait?" The former knight addressed the rogue. "Tell him about Siam."
"What is there to tell, my Prince?" Krait replied, his genial smile waning.
Alucard glanced at the fidgeting spymaster. "Siam? Your sister, right?"
"Yes." Norachai looked away. "She died though. A couple of years ago, in fact. Illness."
"Oh." Trevor's mouth curled down. "I'm sorry."
"You could have saved her, they had told me. In chorus." Krait rubbed his temple. "How can you stand idly and watch her deteriorate. Your blood has the power to cure her affliction. But I couldn't. I don't know why. Perhaps, I was an irresolute coward. Or maybe I couldn't stand the sight of her living like this. I observed as her sickness worsened until it was too late to change anything."
He raked his fingers through his unruly dark hair. "Siam... She lived a good life, and I, being her older brother, visited her every month or so. Or when the... situation allowed. I've kept an eye on her, nursed her, watched her grow up, mature. At length, she started a family on her own, and I couldn't see her any longer. I miss her, but she's in a better place now."
Pondering over the youth's words, Alucard glanced at his silent father. When this is all over, choose your family, rang in his skull. His own words, spoken near the Horn of Bromios. He wore the mantle of his younger self at the time, but it did not change a thing. He had asked his father to make him a promise. A promise he had fulfilled.
"I couldn't let you die, Trevor," the elder whispered as their gazes met. "Not after I had learned the truth."
"Then what about Krait's tale? He couldn't turn his kindred."
Dracul motioned with his hands, palms up. "Norachai and Siam's relationship was a staggering one. Despite everything, their blood-related ties had remained strong throughout the decades. But, unlike me, Norachai had not wronged his sister in any way. I had killed you, condemned you, and robbed you of your family. And these sins... they require time. They require pardon. Your pardon."
"And I have to be alive to grant it," Alucard finished.
"'Tis the only way to make up to you, my boy." A weak smile quirked the vampire's pallid lips.
The white-haired warrior watched him, cautious. His father and sire was a murderer. A monster prepared to spend an eternity to get what he yearned for. Revenge. Vengeance against all those who had wronged and manipulated him, wasn't it?
And yet. To see him openly declare his mistake, before his loyal subordinates... The Knaves. They were nothing like those horrific abominations that stalked the castle halls. Violent and malicious, yes, but elegant and refined. Krait did not switch sides after the Prince disappeared. No. Norachai had always been the most kindhearted of the associates in spite of being undead. And Gabriel knew that.
An odd sensation that – his father stood before him, but Alucard could distinguish a projection conjured by the Maelstrom from actuality. This was but a mirage. Reality... he needed to return to what was real. Who knew what was happening at this precise moment?
"You've given me quite a lot to think about." The Wolf simpered. "While I do not admire the wicked deeds you have committed in the past, in the future, Father, you will surprise me for sure. Perchance even in a good way. We will see." He placed his gauntlet-clad palm on the elder's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Until then." He raised his hand in an offbeat salute. "Farewell."
"Safe journeys, son." Dracul nodded, a heartfelt grin on his lips.
Will it live on though? This benignity within you?
A distorted feminine voice overrode the elder's parting words, and Alucard jerked. The Maelstrom has expelled him; he could feel it in his bones. The younger vampire looked around. He was leaning against the huge tire of a tipped over gasoline truck. Wygol, then. Not unexpected, for the destroyed city had been their point of departure.
Why is that?
What was that voice? Scrambling to his feet, Alucard glanced from behind the overturned vehicle and a soundless outcry froze in his throat. Mother?!
Marie approached him, the hem of her... cerulean dress dragging behind her. It was... so odd to see her in anything but white. White. Her signature color.
"I had hoped it would not come to this, but... but this has forced my hand. I'm sorry. The law forbids me from intervening into your quest," she said, posture stiff. "Even my superior is oblivious to my presence here on Earth."
"What- Marie, wait! You are in league with the Forgotten One? What is-"
"I am disobeying the one in charge," Marie stated. "And I cannot waste time on an explanation; I have stalled long enough. Gabriel, listen. Do me a favor, please."
The knight jolted, fending off the bafflement. "Ah, yes. Yes, of course! What do you require?"
The Justicar's gaze turned uncharacteristically glassy. "I want," she paused, tongue darting out to wet her cracked lips. "I need you to hate me."
"What?" The vampire gaped back, eyes at their widest. "Have I heard you correctly?" he eventually wheezed. "Marie..."
"I lied to you," she uttered icily, arms crossed over her chest. "I was never in any danger. I am the Keeper, that is God's honest truth, but neither the castle's demon, nor its shapeless abominations had ever impeded my progress. They had desired the Trumpet's retrieval, and, you had not let them down."
"Them?" he echoed involuntarily.
"The Paragons. The Divine Servants. The ones with His call embedded in their names. My superiors." A brief sigh fled Marie's throat. "But the things I have said... about your torment, about my judgement. They are genuine. For I have never undergone such bitter disappointment. I had candidly thought that, despite all hardships, you would mature into a better person. 'Offer forgiveness and love'. Your words."
"You're... you're trying to instigate me." Gabriel pursed his lips. "Why?"
"Because this rediscovered tenderness of yours is compromising centuries of painstaking preparation," Marie snapped. "Millenniums of hard toil, brushed aside! You were designed to revel in violence! To savor the lifeblood of others! You have said it yourself. This hope, this loosely knit image of a good man is meaningless. Why do you continue when you know you are going to regress back to your vindictive self?"
His brow puckered in a tight frown. "What are you saying?" Stupid inquiry; he had already deduced the answer. Whenever he actually believed it or not was a different matter.
"I am linked with Eden. I've a place to return to, responsibilities to undertake." The Justicar glanced at him, rueful. "Many pass through the ethereal gates on their path to Heaven. And, one day, I witnessed him waddling down the road. He was scared. Disoriented. So I assisted him."
"And you fell in love with him."
Marie sighed before replying. "I did. I have... I won't condemn you. I can't. My feelings for you course strong still, despite the tribunal's unanimous verdict. But-" She offered her hand. "Regardless, could you still return the Horn? Its power is too great. It cannot remain on Earth."
Remorseful, Marie observed her husband. By Lord, why was it so difficult? Words were uttered, an expression of carefully tailored disgust still crisp against her face, body language under complete control. Archfiend's mighty, yet concealed stature loomed behind her. A flawless façade.
Please, love. Please, just feel hatred, her mind whispered. Ikayiel, don't fail me.
She couldn't afford any more mistakes or fallbacks. Not when the life of another dear to her was at stake. The flame of her lover's existence still smoldered, battling the red shadow within, yet even the Justicar could sense his uncertainty and despair. She was doing the correct thing, Marie knew that, but it didn't take away from the horror.
Horror that surfaced from watching Gabriel's face slowly, so very slowly contort into a mask of unbridled ire. She recognized that expression in an instant. Marie's muscles tautened; if need be, she would leap back.
"I see," he eventually voiced. His tone was cracked, gruff, and Marie could hear the faint noise of his teeth chattering. None of these signs foretold anything good, but she had to press on.
"I have been absent for a few lifetimes," she said. "I had to move on."
"Move on." A hiss escaped his clenched jaws. "When why are you here? Why have decided to take on the duty of the Keeper if all you desired was to move on?"
"Guilt. Guilt and regret." The woman returned the glare. "I am partly responsible for your fall. Your Decay. I am the one to blame. I craved to lift this heavy weight off my shoulders. Egocentric of me? Yes. But that's the truth."
"You came back out of pity."
"You had the hag's poison twisting your veins."
The vampire's lips curled into a vicious snarl, and a sense of fearful apprehension lashed at the Justicar. She tried pulling away, tried moving out of his reach, but to little avail; his fingers had already twirled around her steel-plated neck, squeezing it. A choked gasp escaped her throat.
"Kill me if it pleases you," she muttered, hands wreathed around his wrist joint and sniffling raggedly. "I will not cower."
"N-no. No!" A sharp, panicked breath fled Gabriel's throat as he recoiled. He staggered back, facial features gnarled. "Oh, my God, Marie! I'm sorry! I would never harm you! I-"
Distress means hope. But it is not enough! There has to be hatred! But he wouldn't hurt me. Oh, I should have known. Ikay, do it. It's your turn.
"As you wish," a profound baritone chanted behind her. The next moment, an emaciated barb burst out of her abdomen.
At first, Gabriel did not understand as why Marie had suddenly tipped forward, her pale blue eyes wide with shock and fear. A thick, curved spike protruded out of stomach, splodges of scarlet spotted her rich lazuline robes. Dyeing them violet. Swelling the air with their thick, pasty fragrance. The divine mask chinked against the stone as it slipped out of her numb fingers.
Stupefied and panic-struck, the vampire raised his gaze. A colossal, armor-clad humanoid towered above them both, a green-hued lance-like instrument in his hands... with its barbed tip currently wormed in the woman's flesh, organ, and bone.
"And here I was so looking forward to you two dismembering each other," the Forgotten One grumbled. "Stubborn wench, I told you that your guile and subterfuge would be ineffective."
He discarded the spear in a single, sharp motion, bringing the half-conscious woman along with it. Yet, before Gabriel could respond to the archfiend's attack, the Forgotten One backhanded him across the entire torso, a stroke powerful enough to send the vampire colliding with the church building's outer wall.
While the impact could not possibly incapacitate the Dragon, the sharp thwack of his head against the stone wall had momentarily stunned him. However, in just a matter of seconds, an unseen force yanked at his left shin, denying him any reprieve. Despite the blur drenching his vision, Gabriel managed to discern just what had bound him. An insubstantial coil looped around his leg whilst the daemon had his fingers curled around its glimmering hilt.
"For a thousand years," the Forgotten One growled, grasping onto the whip with both hands. "For a thousand years I have been pinned to that husk. A husk you yourself had forced me into!" He lashed his conjured weapon, the elder still tied with its end, and smashed it into the ruined sidewalk.
Dozens of razor-edged stones dug into the knight's body, scratching, biting, drawing blood. For the first time in centuries, Gabriel could feel his own gore dribble down his face. Flow out of his mouth. Azazel was right: he had neglected feeding. And now, coupled with the castle's uprising, its use of his own blood to mold its soldiers, and the resulting uncovering of his true form, it had returned in a form of a crippling vulnerability. And the Forgotten One knew that.
And yet... Marie, darted through his mind. Dazed and groggy, with a red veil clouding his sight, he jerked his head.
Though badly injured, the Justicar had managed to dislodge the Forgotten One's lance and pull herself away from the enraged daemon and his quarry. Holding onto the open laceration above her stomach, she observed the unfolding events with uncloaked horror, lips moving in a soundless prayer or request.
"Hate! My hate for you is the only thing that had sustained me in my shell!" Ikay bellowed and hurled the vampire into the neighboring building. A sickening, moist crunch of his bones snapping filled his hearing, and this time he could not hold back a yelp of pain. Soon after, he felt himself being dragged away by his crushed shin.
"You destroyed me," the archfiend let out a guttural hiss, glaring down at his adversary – blinking away the blood, the knight defiantly returned the favor. "Undone me. Stole my power. The night-omnipotent demigod. Lucifer's usurper here on Earth. The Prince of Darkness. Now, you can only waddle like a lame cur you are."
Whilst the beast wasted his breath gloating and lamenting, Gabriel tried freeing his ankle of the fiend's arcane noose. But, in doing so, he inescapably drew his attention. The daemon's bony-plated left foot spiked him to the ground, and a heavy gasp echoed in the knight's chest.
"And today... I reclaim what is mine." Ikay outstretched his gloved hand, palm open, and leaned in. The tip of the behemoth's finger jabbed him in the chest. "You have tampered with my power long enough, gnat. And sans it, you are but a common, wretched, and worthless bloodsucker."
The Forgotten One beckoned. At once, a myriad of translucent azure threads seized his fingers, curling and twining around his entire wrist. His hand furling into a fist, the daemon let out a victorious guffaw and yanked.
The sensation that followed could not be aptly described, yet, for some reason, a faraway memory of tearful ruby-red eyes assailed his mind. Laura. Was this what the deathless child had gone through? To have your very marrow of your being gnawed at? Essence siphoned off? It hurt. It set his consciousness aflame, eroded his mind, and only his tremendous willpower had stopped him from screaming. Or was it from the lack of oxygen in his lungs?
His senses made out the rustle of many leathery wings billowing near them. Vermin? Bats? He wondered idly. What significance did it ma-
A thunderous howl resonated against his eardrums and the beastly weight moved off of his chest. Without pausing to query the happenings, Gabriel rolled onto his stomach, coughing and gasping for air. Half-blind and reeling, the vampire blinked several times, and the image before him sharpened.
The Forgotten One sputtered and gargled in obvious pain, the sparkling threads spiraled around his hand growing dim. By good fortune, whatever spell or magic power he had called forth to try and recover his original energies fizzled out into oblivion. The knight's gaze drooped. No, not luck.
An ornate, wreathed in fires blade was burrowed deep into the daemon's unprotected right limb – Gabriel vividly recalled peeling off the armor himself, - its searing heat scorching and melting the wiry tissue of his flesh. A man clad in a jet-black carapace wrenched the weapon free and gave a curt nod of his head.
Alucard?! He quickly glanced skyward. No. It was merely partly cloudy! These pathetic motes of damp wool could not blot out the sun for long! What was he thinking?! With his ankle wrung under an impossible angle, Gabriel could at best hobble like a cripple. And Trevor couldn't possibly stand up to the archfiend for long.
"Down here, you coward!" Trevor yelled at the seething daemon, his Crissaegrim aloft. "Come and face me!"
"You shouldn't have interfered, whelp!" The Forgotten One roared maddeningly, a familiar barbed blade shimmering into his hand. "Imbecile! Now you pay the price for your arrogance and stupidity!"
"Get to Mother!" the white-haired warrior cried out, nimbly dodging the first of the behemoth's blows. "I will take care of this!"
Gabriel hesitated, looking about frantically. He couldn't aid Alucard, not in this debilitated state of his, and Marie had not been moving for a whole minute. But, at the same time, pitting his only son against a savage monster while the sky was still clear...
The boy can stand up for himself. Weren't those his own thoughts? A slimy lump rose in his throat as he began limping towards the torpid woman on the other side of the battleground, using his void sword as an improvised crutch. The hellish racket of the struggle, taunts, and oaths behind him made him falter, but only for a second.
Twice the fiend tried to hinder the elder's advance by smashing his sword perilously close to his position. Twice Alucard swept across his exposed flesh, dicing the Sovereign's wiry muscle to gory shreds, and withdrawing before he could respond. Soon, overwhelmed with pain and rage – perhaps, Trevor's chosen tactic had made the daemon recall their fateful battle and his leading mortification? – the Forgotten One focused all of his attention on the Wolf.
Trevor had bought sand for his father's hourglass by risking his life. He couldn't let it go to waste.
The Justicar's breathing was wheezing and irregular when he had eventually reached her, thin rivulets of blood oozing out of her mouth. Tossing away the blade, Gabriel nearly folded beside her, his splintered shin finally giving in. The aroma of her ichor raked painfully against his throat and he swallowed heavily.
"Marie!" The knight inched nearer, pinning down the powerful urge to feed. "No, don't move, let me see your wound-"
"No, leave... it," Marie murmured softly, raising her head to look him in the eye. "A ruse. A... ruse. I- I needed your hatred, my love. I... I had thought that... plain words would set you off, but- evidently, that's untrue. Perhaps..."
"But why?" he whispered back. "Why would you need my hatred?"
"Hatred provides. Hatred mends." Marie smiled apathetically, and his heart shriveled up. "Forget me. Trevor. You must- go to him. Protect him. Protect our son." A whistling sigh parted her lips as she brought her hands to the gilded covering clad around her head and shoulders. She fumbled with the clasp for a bit and the layered shell retracted, revealing her bare, yet elegant neck.
Gabriel tore his gaze away. "No," he muttered darkly. "I am not doing it."
The woman simply titled her head, stare impassive. "This wound is slow, fatal, and... you know it."
"No." His shoulders slumped in despair. "I am not doing it. I am not repeating the same mistake that had cost me so dearly. I'm sorry."
A tender grin quirked the Justicar's lips. "I wouldn't have it... any other way, my love. Thank you."
"I had thought I would save you," he said, entwining himself around her and caressing her back. "Forgive me."
"There- is nothing to forgive, my love. Now go," Marie sighed into the crook of his neck. She reached up, fingertips dotting his cheekbones, and planted a single, gentle kiss against his lips.
His senses reeled up at the faint taste of blood that seeped through his tightly clenched jaws, making his mouth water and gums itch. No. With a dry, bony crunch his canine teeth cracked and sharpened into fangs. Rasp breaths echoing in his gullet, he attempted to pull away, but Marie's hands still on his face halted his progress.
Her eyes were bright. Like stars in the night sky.
Injustice.
He shifted closer to the woman's neck.
Betrayal.
His teeth dug into the soft, warm flesh, and the ambrosial nectar began to slither down his throat. It was hot, piquant, each swig swelling the throbbing, ireful inferno within him.
Grief.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but it could not hamper the flow of his tears as the skin beneath his touch withered and wizened.
Alucard tiptoed, rapidly dashing over any smear of sunlight scattered along the ground. His white hair had already been singed in places, and the odor of scorched flesh weighed heavily around his being. Battling a nigh-invulnerable behemoth while trying to evade being burned to crisp? Doable on paper, but in practice... He had to be perpetually on the move, and this, quite clearly, created complications when trying to score a blow on his enemy. Or dodging Ikay's attacks.
Till this moment, he had managed to strike the Forgotten One's leg several times, but with each hit landed the beast grew more and more agitated, becoming quicker, stronger, deadlier. He had been proficient enough – or lucky enough, who knew, – to avoid most of the fiend's unyielding attacks, but Alucard understood that he couldn't keep it up for long. No doubt, his Crissaegrim was powerful, but it lacked reach. And getting to the Sovereign had proved to be hazardous.
So, his father's memories weren't bluffing after all; the Forgotten One had been the most... demanding foe he had ever faced. But he had been able to vanquish the fiend. Now how-
"I was handicapping, fool." The Forgotten One elicited a growl and spun his massive morning star. "I allowed for your sire to triumph because I was ordered to!" He crashed the weapon's head into the concrete where, moments ago, the white-haired warrior stood. Fragments of rock ricocheted into Alucard's face.
Reading his thoughts now? Alucard startled. Wait, if the Sovereign could easily comprehend his mind, his scheme, his maneuvers... then why did he choose not to employ this ability mid-battle? Was it a part of his ploy?
"You're far too clever for your own good, pup." The daemon guffawed. To Trevor's surprise, the morning star in his claws faded, and a long, barbed chain swirled around his wrist instead. Its sections reminded Alucard of the spiked links present in many of Gandolfi's combat crosses.
The Forgotten One straightened his back and gave the Wolf a brief nod of his crowned head. Perplexed, Alucard followed the beast's gaze. The display made him recoil.
A shriveled, gray-skinned female lay breathless a hundred or so feet away, her brilliant blue garb a sole identifiable smudge against the barren stone. No... Beside the body, his father stood with his back turned on them and head bowed. A faint, red trickle could been seen skittering across the holes in his attire, stitching and mending the damage it had suffered during the confrontation. There... there had to be an explanation to this. There had to be!
"Ah!" Ikay laughed smugly. "Well, well. Plainly, the Justicar can't keep herself alive, now can she?"
The elder vampire's head jolted up, and a single, growling word escaped his lips. "You."
"Foolish, misguided girl. She had been granted a gift – to walk the earth as one of tribunal's ageless judges. And she tossed this gift aside like garbage! Then again, what could you expect from a wretch destined to die at the hands of her beloved time and time again? Say, that does remind me..." There, without any warning, the Forgotten One lunged... but not in the elder's direction, but in Alucard's. The giant's taloned fingers twirled round the Wolf before he could potentially react and lifted him up into the air.
Trevor squirmed, seeking to draw his blade, but soon realized that it was impossible: his arms were wrung too tightly against his torso. And even his enhanced vampiric strength could not rival with the fiend's sheer toughness. And calling upon his spectral familiar had turned out to be... problematic with Ikay's hold mangling his insides.
"Come," Ikay crowed, holding out the struggling Wolf. "The cloudscape is growing thin. Surely, you don't want for your scion to perish just like your worthless spouse. COME! SHOW ME THE DEMON THAT DWELLS WITHIN YOU, GABRIEL BELMONT!" The Forgotten One roared at last and brandished his spiked chain.
Dracul spun on his heels.
Even from this distance, Alucard could easily espy the smoldering embers that were his father's eyes. Deep crimson smudged both his iris and his sclera, and only long, tapered gashes that once were his pupils, dissevered this redness. Eyes of the Dragon... Flecks of tangible darkness chipped off his very being, waltzing above him, as he bared his teeth in a vicious snarl.
And then a hiss frothed within the vampire's chest. One amplified a thousand-fold by the maddened howls of the deceased, of the departed, of the devoured. One loud enough to thunder over the daemon's cry. One brimming over the edge with raw, unrefined hatred.
"Die..."
Shadows whirled, a kaleidoscope of red, gray and black, gradually hardening, melding into a seamless, reptilian shape. Crimson-stained feathers ruptured, bones crunched, a pair of torn wings darkened the sky, veiling the sun in a dusky chrysalis. The earth quaked as the Dragon stirred, dwarfing the fell daemon with ease. The colossal reptile exhaled a cloud of soot and sulfur, and a baleful growl rumbled deep inside its thorax.
Let him go, flicked through Alucard's mind.
A deep, jubilant laughter rattled within the Forgotten One's throat as he unclenched his fist and allowed for Alucard to drop to the ground. Trevor agilely landed on his feet, winded, and slowly backed away, gaze flickering from one combatant to the other.
The discarded Trumpet chinked under his gauntlet. Seizing it by its brass pipe, Alucard sprang towards the church. After what he had witnessed – even if it was the only feasible outcome if they were to survive, – he couldn't bring himself to fight on his sire's side. Not that it would alter the outcome.
The two old adversaries both stood still, scrutinizing each other...
Dracul bid his time. Just like all those centuries ago, he had used this brief pause with care, pondering, contemplating, building up the rage.
Wrath. Such a marvelous painkiller. A drug that could mend anything. A shattered bone. A battered heart. A damaged mind. She provided so much, and asked for nothing in return. She was an angel draped in a gown of loneliness, garlanded with flowers as black as coal, and she spread her plucked, skeletal wings proudly and buoyantly. Her spidery fingers traced symbols into his flesh, enkindling it. The saint, this putrid creature had been modeled after, was gone, her divine blood coursing through his veins, and only this deplorable copy remained.
And she demanded death. Death of those accountable.
He, this wretched fiend, this vile scum! He had deceived her, he had mortally wounded her! He had goaded her into releasing her own life! He had threatened to reduce his only son to ash! But now... it would be the daemon who would become a puddle of oily ooze upon the stone. Fiery sprouts leaping out of its maw, the Dragon bellowed furiously and rose on its hind legs. This time Dracul would make certain that the malevolent savage that is the Forgotten One stays dead.
The gargantuan reptile swiped at the archfiend's legs, yet Ikay nimbly jumped over it. Seething, the Dragon tried to cudgel the bothersome pest from above, but the Forgotten One sidestepped its blow at the last possible second. The impudent lout was laughing at him! Growing irritated, the scaled beast unleashed a series of sundering strokes, stabs, and jabs at the daemon.
One blow carved neatly into the Forgotten One's shoulder, cracking his enameled armor and exposing the gleaming tissue underneath. However, unlike their preceding struggle, the former Sovereign did not seem to be at all fazed by this turn of events. A quick skim over the injury, and Ikay lunged forward, the barbed chain coiled around his wrist chinking.
The Forgotten One thrusted his talons in-between the Dragon's scales. The reptile juddered its frilled head from side to side, yet the fiend clung to its hide like a cockroach. Hissing, Dracul raked his claws over the daemon's unprotected shin; Ikay let out an hollow yawl, and a brief cramp shuddered his muscles. Even so, the vampire soon understood that it had accomplished little as the fiend continued his rigorous ascend.
Ikay's fingers curled around the base of the Dragon's ragged wing at the same moment as the reptile collided with the nearby building's façade, its massive stature leveling the structure till its foundation. Dracul could hear the daemon's carapace scrape against the stone... then a heavy load moved up and affixed itself on his back.
The archfiend's darkened chain surged upward and looped twice around the beast's neck, spikes digging deep into its hide. An enraged roar fled the Dragon's gullet as it violently thrashed about, ramming and toppling the adjacent buildings to the ground.
"You may have grown in power since our last skirmish, Gabriel," Ikay shouted over the rumble, tugging at his makeshift rein. "But, in the end, you are nothing but a pathetic mortal. Gullible. Weak. Flawed. Why did He select a human as His Representative is... beyond m-"
Dracul jolted, rising on his hind legs, and slammed his back fiercely against the church's wall. With a definite degree of smugness he listened as the daemon rattled down his reptilian spine, helpless. Whirling around, the Dragon seized the dazed archfiend by his horned head, and repeatedly pounded his form against the concrete.
As the Forgotten One's carapace burst under his endless pummels, sloughing off of his body akin to soggy paper, Dracul slowed down. Staring the supine fiend down, he allowed for the dusky vestiges to wreathe his body and revert him back to his humanoid form. Pausing to get his bearings, the vampire climbed down into the newly-formed crater in which Ikay had found his respite.
Viscous bubbles lathered all over the Sovereign's exposed frame as he gazed motionlessly into the argent sky. Only when the elder had made it all the way to the giant's head, void sword drawn, did the Forgotten One twist it to face him.
"Satisfied?" His baritone had a slight slur to it now. "Now you have a choice. Will you deliver the finishing blow or listen to what I have to tell you?"
Pathetic cretin, Wrath's sleek whisper caressed his hearing. Daemon-imposter! He had overstayed his welcome on this material plane. Kill him and mount his maggot-infested carcass on a spike.
"Ah." The Forgotten One smirked. "And so, the Bernhard's Demon has revealed itself! Frightened that your host is doubting your sage advice?"
Don't listen to him! the Castle hollered. He murdered your beloved! Slay the beast!
The daemon gave the vampire a crooked smile. "The Justicars. They're ageless. I have told you that. She's of divine blood, and the Bernhard scum cannot relish in it, just like it couldn't devour me. Even now, it cannot fully manipulate you because you have substituted its corruption with her unsullied ichor."
"Marie's alive," Dracul said, lowering the blade. "Is that what you are saying?"
"I'm a prudent being." A frothy laugh gurgled in the archfiend's chest. "As much as I yearn for revenge, my nemesis, I'm afraid, it wasn't my objective. Me and the Justicar. We share a common goal. Hatred. We needed your hatred. I have fulfilled my promise. And now I will be rewarded handsomely."
"Why?" He frowned. "Why on Earth would anyone want to harness my hate?"
"The reason is twofold." A peculiar voice intoned, and Dracul's head jerked up.
A soldier stood at the yawning edges of the crater. Clad in a platemail of pale blue, gold, and white, with a rich red cloak flowing down his shoulders, and a layered headpiece concealing his visage, the warrior appeared... distantly familiar? He wasn't armed and yet... His garb, demeanor... no, his entire frame radiated with an aura of divinity, an air thick enough to make the vampire's skin crawl. Why? Sacred powers could not influence him!
"Ikayiel-" The soldier swooped down, steel-plated boots raking against the stone, and stooped over the reclining fiend. "Are you alright?"
"Why, yes," the Forgotten One stated, rising on his elbows. "I have been crushed, smashed, and then cudgeled into mush. Apart from that, everything, as you humans would say, is hunky-dory."
"Humor? Good. I was afraid I would arrive too late." The man traced a pattern into the archfiend's shoulder. At once, the fissured fragments of his armor sprang into the air and clung back to the daemon's muscle tissue.
"Who are you?" Dracul questioned the presumable saint as he watched the Forgotten One shamble to his feet, his ridged carapace once again renewed. The elder's grip around the blade stiffened.
The man gave him a wary, measuring look. "Follow me. Alucard is already waiting," he voiced at long last. "Ikayiel, prepare the terrain, would you?" He gave the former Sovereign a brief nod and climbed out of the chasm.
"As you wish, my Prince." The Forgotten One glowered at the vampire. "Not you. There is only one true Prince – the Prince of Light." He sighed. "Cease your gawking and go."
Chief of the Angels, darted in Dracul's mind as he ascended the cragged slope, unusually tense. The general of the Host's cohorts? The Saint Archangel? Here? Eyebrows arched, he glanced back at the deadpan daemon. Ikayiel?
The ones with His call embedded in their names, Marie's words rang in his ears. The murderous archfiend carried the name of an angel?
"The creature you know as the Forgotten One was once an angel, yes. The Voice of God. But he had fallen," the archangel said, nearing the vampire with Alucard by his side. The Celestial Trumpet was clenched in the white-haired warrior's grip.
"But we were in need of his services, and his terms were reasonable. He is the one who had granted you the much-needed power." The saint gestured with his hand, and a dense sheet of thunderclouds trundled across the sky. "There, Alucard. Sun will not vex you any longer."
"Um," Alucard murmured, glancing up. "Thank you...?"
"You're welcome," the soldier replied, voice warm.
Dracul's lips tightened into a line. "So, you, and your heavenly brethren, had engineered everything. Not surprising. What is your purpose then, Michael?"
The saint startled.
"Don't take me for a fool, Michael," the vampire continued, corners of his mouth curling into a sneer. "You are the great Archangel! The Prince of Light, the Commander of His armies, Satan's Vanquisher! Or how it is preached, after all."
"Michael?" the angel echoed morosely. "Michael is dead and it was you who snuffed out his life."
The elder glared back, forehead puckered. "What now? I don't recall taking the life of a supreme archangel."
"Of course, you wouldn't. Is the name 'Zobek' still fresh in your mind? You've seen the mural in the Brotherhood's stronghold, but, my guess, your own angelic image had diverted your attention. Michael... he was my closest friend, and you butchered him like a dog." The angel let out a whistling sigh. "And the other two, Cassiel and Remielle – or Cornell and Carmilla to you, – they too had perished by your hand, vampire."
"How droll." Dracul raised an eyebrow. "You foolishly idolize those who were perfectly aware of the mistake they were committing. The Founders knew of the hate deep within themselves, but decided to disregard it. Their pride and overconfidence had been their downfall."
He propped his head with his hand. "They had thought their 'good halves' would even out the scales. The Lords of Shadow had thought the Brotherhood has deserted them. I had put an end to their charade once and for all. My inner voice is silent. No remorse. No regret. They damned themselves the moment they ascended into Heaven. You're a scriptural myth, saint, I don't expect you to understand. Or even if you do comprehend – to recognize that even paragons fall."
"On the contrary," the angel mouthed, his gauntlet-clad hands moving close to his helmet. "I understand everything. For I am one of the few sublime beings who has earthly, mortal roots. I have killed. The Aghartian child and her protector. The Old God of spring and serenity. The Founders. A martyr. Even... even my own wife."
The clasp gave a dry chink as the winged headgear was taken off. Chiseled cheekbones, a thin-lipped mouth, long, mahogany hair, eyes of brilliant blue with a strange, slivered white pupils... The vampire's jaw went slack.
"I am Gabriel Belmont, His Vassal and the Almighty's Archangel of Light, Justice, Clemency and Diligence," his doppelganger intoned, and a pair of crimson-stained wings sprouted from under his cloak. "I greet you, brother-angel of rancor and envy."