I shuffled towards the cathedral where I first awoke and waited for a worthy warrior to finally best me before my time ran out. I sat at my throne, waiting for my challenger to end my torment. Upon achieving my last victory, I left the Crissaegrim to one of my trusted jailers and the Masamune to my highest ranking vampire warrior. In addition to these fabled blades, I relinquished the damaged remains of the Vampire Killer and ordered my servants to store it away near the gorgons' lair. I knew my son would recover soon and once he did, he would have to work to recover his old relics.

Having scattered the remnants of hell and the society of the dead, my troops retreated to their old posts. The Harpies patrolled the skies surrounding the spires, the undead wandered around the inner courtyards while Skeleton Warriors hid alongside the corpses in the underground dungeons. The Jailers and their minions stood vigilant at their posts in the dungeons while the lycans scoured the turrets and spires surrounding my restored fortress. Three nights passed before I received word of an intruder. To my great surprise, the remnants of my armies were being systematically eradicated by none other than the Brotherhood of Light. Of the many soldiers that were fighting to breach the castle gates, one particular warrior stood out as the best. Equipped with what looked to be my old relics, this warrior of light was able to dispatch even my most powerful troops with absolute impunity. I looked upon the invaders from the safety of my balcony and shambled back to my throne. My battle against Lucifer had spent most of my powers, and it would take too long for me to begin to recover. Not even the castle's blood could spawn enough reinforcements after the taxing task of holding hell's forces back for seven days. Though it had the power to call upon more of the souls it still contained within it, it was in dire need of rest after its tough ordeal.

Finally, the warrior of light burst through the stained glass murals that adorned my throne room using the assistance of his Seraph Wings. He crushed a glowing purple crystal which summoned a shadow demon which promptly charged at me. Being no stranger to this type of demon, I summoned my Void Sword using the dwindling remains of my magical reserves and made short work of the beast. I had made ample use of this same summoning ritual in my days fighting the Lords of Shadow, and still remembered its predictable movement patterns. It charged forward like a beast and so I indulged it by letting it get close enough for me to slice off one of its arms, followed by its stomach, and finally its still-beating heart. The flying demon yelped in agony before helplessly dissipating in a cloud of dust.

"I must congratulate you on your success, warrior. I never expected you to make it this far."

"What kind of abomination are you?"

"One who once fought in the name of your God."

He grunted in a way that reminded me of my grandson.

"Your blasphemy will end here, monster. I'll not let you past."

"I have no doubt."

I extended my arm in pure curiosity.

"Indulge me if you will. Those relics that you wield, how did you come across them?"

"These were passed down through the generations of the Belmont clan. They act as a keepsakes to keep us dedicated to our cause."

"I see, and I would have the name of the warrior who stands before me."

"Victor."

Beyond the holy energies fighting to purify my accursed abode, I sensed an all-too familiar spectral trail.

"Tell me one last thing, Victor Belmont. My son. Do you know him?"

"Yes. In fact, he is on the way slaughtering your armies as we speak."

"Very well then. Do your worst, boy!"

The Belmont warrior weaved around the throne room with inhuman speed. Whether this was the result of my weakness or his power, I no longer cared. After my earlier display, I was left unable to manifest my Void or Chaos energies. However, in order for this last plan to work, I would have to convince him of my power. I consumed a goblet full of blood that was resting on my throne and tossed it aside. Though it was not enough to trigger the restoration of my powers, the blood enabled me to fully utilize my vampiric abilities. I dodged and teleported around the battleground, putting on a show for my eager audience. The Belmont warrior fiercely attacked with a flurry of strikes highly reminiscent of my old techniques.

"Haha! So I see the Brotherhood still uses the same antiquated methods. How amusing…"

I continued to attack him with my claws and using whatever control I could exert over my own blood. I used a variety of constructs ranging from my Shadow Whip down to the usurper's blood wings in order to mock my combatant, imitating the very relics that I once wore. After a lengthy show, my body had reached its limits and no longer responded to my whims. Eventually my movements began to resemble his, and the warrior was able to take advantage of the openings I tried my hardest to suppress. Still, I was happy to be fighting in such a manner—an even fight purely determined by skill. At the apex of our duel, I dropped to my knees, unable to stand, and fell to the warrior's antique replica. I managed to get a few words out, interrupting the warrior's prayer of absolution.

"Well done, warrior."

"May your soul rest in peace, monster."

"Funny…I hope so too."

I felt a sudden blackness overtake my senses.