I know the stories as well as the rest of them. The elders would tell us - well, whispered about as they huddled around dying flames and choked on decaying ash. They told us about the Dragon. How he thrives up above us, how he seeks to destroy my kind, how he has dominated the surface for centuries now. How he pillages, takes from us his spoils of conquest, how he steals away our children only to rip out their beating hearts to feed upon their youthful blood.
Old Nan, my caretaker when I was younger, had spoken of how the Prince of Darkness rules over a mythical castle. He commands armies of Demons, Vampires, Werewolves, Wargs, Zombies, and cursed Ghosts. She told me the tale of how my kind's greatest cities and fortresses fell in but a few short decades. How he would butcher the men and women of the cloth; how he would torture and mutilate soldiers of the Brotherhood like they were rabid dogs! She would tell me of how the Lord of Shadow would slaughter the innocent, curse the good-natured, and spite God with every breath he drew.
The stories call him by many, many names. King of the Night. Prince of Darkness. The Blood Fiend. Lord of Evil. Father of Monsters. The All-consuming Dragon. Yet there is one name that is constant. One that his very servants utter with reverence and respect and fear... Dracula.
Dracula... Dracula... Dracula. Dracula is the name of a monster! No! It is the name of Evil Incarnate! That blasted Devil! That wicked Beast! He did this! He was the one who drove my species to the brink of extinction! And what does he do now? He laughs. That blighted sack of putrid puss laughs at us all! He takes joy and happiness from our pain, our misery, our destruction!
No more! I carry the blood of humanity's savior. I carry the name Belmont! I will destroy the Dragon! I will send that devil's black soul screaming into whatever infernal charnel pit of which he arose! The Prince of Darkness will suffer... He will bleed and he will die!
"Richter!" A gruff and aged - and rather annoyed voice - freed me from my trance. My eyes fixated onto the object in my right hand. An ancient, old, and holy weapon... Something few of us had ever seen. Its was made of ancient leather, and had fragments of silver and blessed iron within it. It was a whip. The Beast Hunter. Legend claims one of my ancient ancestors used this to slay a mighty Demon once long, long ago...
"What is it, old man?" I replied as I turned my gaze upon him. He stood a foot or two taller than myself; clad in a robe befitting a priest moreso than a Warrior of the Light. The perfectly crafted silk robe had embroidery of pure gold and silver sewn into it. He wore leather pants, strange dull golden boots, and a snow white gauntlet built of ivory intermixed with iron. On his left arm he wore an ancient gauntlet welded by God's Savior from times long since pass. It was built of an iron-like metal and infused with immense yet dark magics that granted the wielder power over Hellfire and enhanced strength. A wicked thing, yes, but a necessary evil. He had a sword built of the purist silver strapped to his thigh, and in his left hand he wielded the legendary Morning Star. The Combat Cross wielded by our mutual ancestors Simon and Trevor. The very weapon responsible for the Dragon's first death.
His eyes were a cold yet piercing blue. His skin pale as snow - as is the same with the rest of us - and his hair an almost white blond. His hair dangled down to his shoulders in thin locks and he had a unkempt beard.
"We're ready, but you don't seem to be. What's taking so long?" His voice softened slightly as he stood by a dark cavern lit by torches. I despise caves and caverns. Since the Great War ended nearly one hundred years ago my kind had been forced into the deepest, darkest, most revolting places deep beneath the Earth's surface. I was born and raised here, yet Old Nan had told me of a strange thing once or twice. A bright, golden, warm orb that supposedly hovers high above the Earth and bathes it in God's warmth. She called it the sun. A mythical thing... I scarcely believe it... Yet I wonder at times. Is it truly as beautiful as she claims?
"I was thinking... Let's get going." I clutched the weapon in my right hand. I nodded before silently entering into the cavern... Now or never.
"O' LORD! WE CALL UPON YOU IN OUR TIME OF GREATEST NEED! GUIDE OUR SOLDIERS SWORDS, STEER US FROM SIN, AND PRESERVE OUR SOULS AGAINST THE COMING DARKNESS!" The echoing of priests, clanking steel, and sobbing children echoed throughout the dark caverns like a twisted symphony of despair. The women and the men too weak or old or sick to fight stood near mud huts or brick houses. Soldiers wearing armor and wielding weapons of silver followed their holy priests. Men wearing red robes and wielding staffs of gold imbued with holy magic led the river of silver warriors.
I relegated myself to the shadows, atop a cathedral built of stone. Large winged statues resembling gargoyles flanked my sides. Behind me was a vast, oculus window of many colors such as red, gold, blue, and purple. It depicted the Son of God as he was in his final moments. I rested my right hand on the demonic horn of the gargoyle I had perched upon.
The darkness surrounded me was like a cloak; swarming about my body and clinging to my flesh like a newborn babe. It concealed me from unwanted and prying eyes - yet I could sense that a few gazes would glance here occasionally - yet none would pry deep enough as to question what exactly they were seeing.
I looked on and waited for my covert ally to arrive. He should be here soon. In fact he's late. What is taking him? Perhaps a mishap in the armory? A few scores of soldiers to cowardly for the coming battle? Or, perhaps whilst unlikely, his mortal body has perished? Perhaps...
Great bells echoed throughout the cavern as the Last Pope (or so he called himself) prepared yet another speech. He had been blathering on for months now with his idiocies. God does not save soldiers. He does not win wars. He does not protect the innocent from sin. Only Mankind does these things. The Lord only offers a path and forgiveness. This is not His war to fight, but mine and theirs.
For many centuries I've toiled against the Dragon... My own father, Dracula. For two thousand seven hundred and forty six years have I battled the Dark Prince's endless armies and ravenous monstrosities. It was I who first fought Dracula all those ages ago... It was I who aided the illustrious Simon Belmont in slaying the Prince of Darkness. It was I who has guided the Belmont Clan ever since those ancient nights in secret. It was I who convinced humanity's leaders into seeking refuge in the bowels of this planet. I am known amongst the common folk as the White Wolf. To my father's servants and demons I am the Heir to Darkness. Yet, to those who truly know me, I am-
"Alucard!" I need not alter my gaze to recognize his grizzled voice. I instead focused my sights upon a particularly interesting symbol in the distance. A shattered moon against ashen cloth. How queer a sight in these dire nights...
"Leon Belmont. What has taken you so? I dreaded the worst had happened. It would be a shame of humanity's greatest warrior died to something as mundane as a bad heart." A grunt was the mortal's only reaction. Humanity is a sullen thing. Misguided by themselves, betrothed to death, and destined for short yet painful lives. I have seen so much death... So much chaos... So much suffering. Humanity may be cruel, heartless, even wicked at times. Indeed, yes, but they are capable of such kind and tender things.
Human love, human courage, human bravery. All these things are unique to them and them alone. I could scarcely recall a time when my heart ached for the touch of my beloved. For when I felt love. Or hunger. Or care. Or fear. Now... Now the black blood of Dracula flows through my veins and condemns me to an eternity of nothingness and war. To watch as entire generations grow and die. To watch as simple truths are forgotten to the greedy maw of time. To watch as my own descendants die again... And again... And again. Now I am hollow. Devoid of life or love or passion or fear. I only know but two desires; to destroy Dracula and to appease my endless thirst with the blood of evil's servants.
"It isn't right, ya know. He is only a boy of nary fifteen winters. A boy should not witness such war. We-"
"He is a Belmont, Leon. Do you not recall what she said? 'Only the blood of Belmont may slay the Dragon.' You are old, your body grows weak, and your mind dwells on the past. It is not a choice, my friend. He must do it. He is the only one who can..." Silence settled the air between us. we both knew my words to be true. The time was growing short. Humanity's last hope must fight... Lest all things die and be devoured by the Dragon.
I heard Leon's hefty footsteps as he neared, a sigh of dread escaping him.
"I... I know. It is ready, Alucard. Yet I fear he is not..." Of course the boy wasn't. How could he? He knows nothing of what is to come. Of the suffering, of the death, of all that regret...
"We leave now."
Bolts of pale green lightning arced across a sky of ashen tinted gray clouds. Oceans of bubbling, oily goo concealed mountains and sunken, dead cities. Mountainous peaks built of human bones towered hundreds if not thousands of feet tall. Massive red shapes bigger that islands moved beneath the tar-like oceans, and the constant ringing of a fell bell could be heard in the distance. The sky rained only crimson acid and the air was plagued by cinders and embers and toxic gases.
No life grew here. No animal could be found alive. No human could survive up here. Erupting volcanos and constant hellish storms ensured that no sunlight could bath this dying world in light. Walking corpses and living skeletons and demons and other monstrosities numbered in the hundreds of millions, all of them hungrily searching for humanity's last city.
Continents had been broken asunder and gashes dozens of kilometers deep scared the planet's surface. The moon above had taken on the color of blood and resembled a giant, unblinking eye belonging to some malicious, wicked, ancient deity. It watched the dying world with ecstatic pleasure and irrational, vitriolic hatred. It was always full, always visible, and unmoving.
Only one single structure still stood upon the dying world. A castle - no, a city - built of perfect marble and gold and silver and iron. It covered half of what once was Europe and continued to grow. Slithering tendrils hundreds of feet thick and thousands of feet long emanated from the castle's edge. These serpentine tendrils of flesh and blood continued to slowly form and shape into new towers, or grand walls, or coliseums the size of small cities. It expanded, the castle pulsated, it seemed to drink in the crimson light of the full moon. A preternatural darkness shrouded this dread fortress of sin and misery. Within it's vast halls stood countless towers several hundred feet tall, or statues depicting eldritch monstrosities half as tall as the towers, or alien structures built for reasons to disturbing to dwell on
This... This is Earth. A dying world that once was home to such grand beauty... A thing full of life and inspiration and wonders beyond imagining. It is nothing but a shadow of once was now. A horrid dystopia that houses only the most foul creatures. Nothing but death and disease and sin thrives upon the surface. It is enough to make God Himself weep and Hell blush. It is a sickening sight to behold after watching this planet for over nearly millenniums... This is my father's masterpiece. His dream fully realized. A world that is as lethal to, and hateful, of humanity as he himself is.
I turned my gaze back upon Leon, who stood a few miles below me in a cavern that led deep underground. I stood upon a cliff, watching and waiting for the signal. He was with a personally selected group of two mighty warriors as well as his own nephew. The boy, Ricther. He wore a steel set of Brotherhood armor, albeit colored a sky blue. He wore white bandana around his head, had short brown hair, pale flesh, and a lean build. His legs were adorned in leather and his feet were protected by combat boots. He had several Silver Daggers and three Holy Water Bottles and a secret weapon strapped to his. The weapon appeared to be a stopwatch but... Well, appearances can be deceiving.
Richter was a prodigy. A natural master with the Beast Hunter, my long dead son's own weapon, and a competent swordsman. However, he is little more than a sad joke when it comes to harnessing the powers of magic.
Despite this weakness he is still formidable. A ferocious fighter whose offense is vast and great. He can take a hit better than most, even bury his pain beneath the rage and the desire to succeed. Yet... Yet I fear that won't be enough. My father's own mastery over whip, blade, and claw is unrivaled. His powers are many and even stronger than they are numerous. He is, perhaps, one of the mightiest beings in all of creation. He slew the Lords of Shadow, Satan and Death alike fear him, and God's power cannot harm him. His servants may be weaker than he, yet they are still formidable and many. That is why the army is coming.
The last remnant's of Man who can still fight are risking their lives in what amounts to a meager distraction. Hundreds of thousands slaughtered so that myself, Ricther, and a handful of others may sneak into Dracula's throne room and battle him. The only one of us who truly matters is the boy. I am not human. Leon is too old, too slow. Yet the boy is so young, so naive, so inexperienced... I fear that my father may be too much for us all...
The earth shook with great ferocity; the rumbling of shifting tectonic plates and the tearing of earth filled the air. Chunks of earth miles wide tore and split as the sky parted. Even the castle shook and quaked as a few towers began to fall and plummet. Up above, where once the bloody moon sat, was a great sphere of energy. It was pale white and shot down a ray of cleansing light. All the sinister and twisted things that it touched were reduced to ash, the air being cleansed of toxins, the seas rumbling as blue spread amongst the oily pits.
The agonizing screeching of millions of Dracula's servants rung throughout the air like a beautiful melody. Life returned to the land. The air becoming breathable; the once gnarled or dead trees and plants becoming green; the eternal acidic storm parting as beautiful rays of golden light shown down upon the world below.
I closed my eyes and took in a deep, calming, and intoxicating scent of burning flesh intermingling with a hint of Holy Power. The energies of the Divine irritated my nostrils, yet it put to rest the woes of my soul. I opened my eyes once more saw before me a most pleasing thing; a giant hole in the earth only a few miles from Castle Dracula. A hole that spewed forth hundreds of thousands of the greatest (and not so great) warriors ever produced by Mankind. Soldiers whom wasted no time in charging forward and bombarding the stunned and dying monsters. Now is the time. We can wait no longer.
'Life vs Death. Good vs Evil. Mortality vs Immortality. Everything has it's equal yet opposite. A twin that seeks to destroy it's other half. Balance is omnipresent. All things must obey His laws.' The rattling of chains echoed into the darkness of this hellish void. Below me was a infinite chasm of jagged spikes and shapes of things darker still. Above me was wanton chaos. White, purple, black, red, green, blue and so many more colors beyond human description swirled and intermingled and expanded. It was like a living painting. Somewhat solid and somewhat liquid; a thing that gave rise to wretched concepts and unspeakable, horrid, indescribable things.
'Save for him. For well over two hundred thousand years we have sought to understand God. To comprehend the higher mysteries and shine the light of Truth onto the most blackened of Lies. Yet, regardless of what we have sacrificed, he is God's exception. The only being to whom the rules do not apply.' The grumbling and shifting of tectonic plates reverberated throughout this black, sullen place like a hissing serpent. Yet, amongst this black and dead pit, something began to stir. Something old. Something more terrible and mighty than any demon or monster.
'What God?' It wasn't a voice. More of a... A feeling. A sensation. The pulsing and twisting and throbbing of the mind, a slowing and blackening of the heart, a stagnating of the blood. A wretched thing that mocked all the rules of life and laws of the universe. A thing whose mere presence shattered and warped reality in on itself.
'The one up above who abandons and betrays His own flock? The one below who fell from grace and seeks to pervert the world? Or one of the countless pretenders who proclaimed themselves gods? My friends,' It's... Words, for lack of a better word, could be felt in my very bones. It's power radiated throughout this accused place so much that the 'sky' above turned a deep dark shade of lavender and the abyssal depths glowed the color of freshly spilt blood.
'Ye whose voice is that of avarice and shadow; why do you present yourself before us now?'
'Indeed. Explain.'
'Don't you know already? Is it not you who is 'omniscient'? Is it not you who has mastered the scrying of fate? Is it not you who knows His secrets better than anything else in all of creation? Please, my old friends, you yourselves claimed omniscience.'
'Your insults and implications are not welcome here, interloper. Begone! Least we lose our temper.'
'I come here to make a bet. A deal, if you well. Winner takes all...'
'What deal?'
'Hahaha...'
"I don't like this, Leon." I heard Isabella mutter from behind me, her voice cautious. I glanced to her. She was... Well, she was a Witch and she didn't bother to hide it. She wore a dark purple robe and a large circular hat with a cone on top of it. In her right hand she grasped a large wooden 'staff'. More of a stick if you ask me. Her skin was ivory, her voice soft and calm, her hair long and golden blond. She was only a few years older than I.
"Yeah, she's got a point. I haven't even seen so much as single freak, let alone a vampire or werewolf... It's like-'
"He knows?" I finished Clyde's sentence. Clyde was a big man. Very big. Nearly eight feet in height, built like a Warg, and wearing ill fitting steel armor. He used only his grandmother's battle-axe as his weapon. It wasn't even silver! Just a giant hunk of iron vaguely resembling a weapon. He was bald, his left eye scarred and blind, and his skin as dark as ebony. He was no older than twenty. His voice was... Let's just say that not even thunder could compare.
"Because he does know. This is the Dragon's lair. He'd be stupid not to know." Leon's words did not have a pleasant effect on us. I don't care if that bastard knows we're coming; but Clyde and Isabella seemed to stiffen. Isabella was normally quite quiet, yes, but Clyde? No. Not in the slightest. Yet-
"Stop!" Leon yelled, his fist raised. At once we all stopped. I looked around as we all prepared for a fight, yet there was nothing. The marble halls were vacant; the shadows too dim to conceal anything larger than a house cat; the ceiling and walls carried no hidden monstrosities. I heard the shifting of Clyde's armor, Isabella muttering a spell, yet there was nought but silence...
"Do you hear that?" Leon asked us.
"Hear what?" Clyde responded with a hint of fear in his voice.
"Yeah, what?" I chimed in. Still nothing. I could see nothing. Hear nothing. Smell nothing. What's this even about?
"Hey, stop!" I spun around and saw Leon sprinting down the hall. We took off after him. Yet before I could even take so much as two steps the castle began to quake. I stumbled back as large cracks and gashes tore through the floor, walls, and ceiling. Large chunks of marble fell and brought down sections of the ground with it. Beneath the floor was nothing. Nothing but a vast, black abyss. And... Why do I smell ozone? Why is everything suddenly green? Why do I feel dizzy? Wait, is that an altar?
I spun around and saw I was somewhere else. Somewhere different. It resembled a cathedral of some kind. Filled with pillars, pews, and an alter resting before a oculus window. The window was white save for a black dragon that had a red halo around it's head and in the dragon's hands rested a maroon heart bleeding shadows. The dragon was flanked by two beings. To it's right was a black skeleton clad in purple robes that had a green halo. To the dragon's left was a strange man with white hair and a blue coat with a golden halo.
There was something on the altar, too. Something obscured by shadows yet was shiny and circular. I approached it, slowly, my guard up and my eyes peeled and my ears listening for anything. Any sound at all that wasn't howling wind or distant thunder. Once I was nought but a foot from it I reached out my hand and grasped the thing. It was hard, cold, and glassy in texture. I pulled it into the red moonlight and saw that it was an orb. An orb constructed of what I assume to be is glass and filled with what looked like blood. What is this thing for? What even is this place? Some sort of demented church? A hellish place of worship dedicated to the Dragon? That would explain the window. But what of the orb? A offering? A source of demonic power? Or is it a religious artifact of some ilk? How passing strange...
'Welcome, Belmont,' I spun around and saw nothing but shadows. What was that!? 'Welcome to the Master's church. Do you know what it is we do here, mortal?' The hell is this!? It spoke using some sort of telepathy. Can it read my thoughts? Sense my emotions? Or...?
'This is where we take the living ones. We lay them on the Altar of Despair and... Well, you can only last so long whilst flayed.' Disgusting. What sort of demented hellhole is this?
"Show yourself, coward! Come out of the shadows! Fight me!" My voice echoed into the vast expanse of the church the chime of a bell. Yet, strangely, my voice seemed muffled. Like something was amplifying my echo but weakening the strength of my voice. What a useless display of magic.Is it trying to-
'They call me many things, Ricther of clan Belmont. The Reaper. Wielder of Scythe and Bone. The Dragon's Executioner. The Priest of Blood and Death. You may call me Mortis, Dracula's personal Necromancer. I have studied the art of death for countless generations.' A Necromancer!? Impossible! They're extinct! The last of them died over a thousand years ago... It's a lie! It must be!
'The body releases the waste first. It bloats, it becomes pale, the skin retracts around the fingernails. The worms usually enter in through the nostrils and devour the brain. It's easy and quick. The body releases a number of foul smelling gases upon death. Sometimes, for those who are particularly unlucky, the stomach may burst if the gases are incapable of finding an exit. It is morbidly beautiful to watch as flesh and bone decays. To watch as all manner of liquids leak out of every available orifice. To watch as the flesh pales, blackens, and rots. To watch as the eyes melt into little puddles of whitish goo.' Ugh, sick! What sort of freak is this!? A damn madman!? How-
'Vampires are different than humans or beasts, you see. Upon death they become ashes. Werewolves contort and explode. Zombies rapidly decay into dust. Demons fade away into nonexistence. Do you know what happens to my kind? We become spirits cursed to wonder the world for eternity incapable of physically interacting with anything... Anything that's alive. That was my fate, once, trapped as a disembodied voice. Yet the Master found me. He gave me a second life. For that I owe him my absolute loyalty and obedience.' Suddenly space and matter began to contort and ripple in the center of the room. Bolts of green energy arced as shadowy tendrils coalesced into an humanoid figure. The pale green electricity gave the shadow shape and physicality. It formed into a... Body, no, a skeleton. The bone was as black as shadow save for milky white teeth. It's eyes emitted a green glow and red glowing runes covered it's skull. It wore thin purple robe and hood that had golden and silver patterns of skulls and bones upon it. On the center of the robe, on Mortis chest, sat sigil depicting a skeletal dragon. In Mortis right hand he held a nearly seven foot long staff whose head was that of a curved, jagged scythe blade. He was the spitting image of Death himself.
"Life is grotesque, Ricther. Let me grant you the beauty of death."
'Indeed, brother. But what of the price? What if we are defying God's will? God's plan? We swore to never interfere, remember!?'
'You did, not me! I have a vested interest in this. What would you have us do? God's favored world is dying. It is plagued by a sickness! A disease! We must do something! ANYTHING!'
'He has a point, doesn't he? Earth is doomed. The Dragon is all that will remain unless you two do something. Anything. What if this is His will? His desire? He never interferes directly.'
'As much as it pains me to say this, It has a point, brother. God works in mysterious ways...'
'I don't trust this...'
I leapt to my left as a blast of green lightning blasted where once I stood. It reduced the altar, oh sorry, 'Altar of Despair' to ashes and rended stone into boiling orange liquid. I threw three Silver Daggers at Mortis yet he deflected them with some sort of telekinesis. He levitated into the air and sent another blast of lightning my way from the tip of his scythe. I leapt over it and landed on a pew, and jumped again when another blast of electricity came my way.
I landed near a pillar this time as Mortis raised his left arm into the air. Bolts of necromantic energy arced about his hand as some strange symbol formed beneath him on the ground. A hand emerged from the stone within the circular symbol. A rotting hand missing all but two fingers. An arm joined it, followed by a head missing it's lower jaw, and torso followed by legs. Another rotting creature joined the first... And another and another and another. They were slow, shambling, groaning and reaching for me. Zombies. I gotta stop him before he floods the damn place with those things!
I charged forward, swinging my whip horizontally and slicing six in half. I killed another by impaling it through the skull with a Silver Dagger, and another by decapitating it with my whip. I impaled through the chest and tossed it at it's fellows. They fell over as I brought down my whip on another thusly splitting it in twain. I kicked back one that managed to get too close and threw a few daggers, taking out three at once.
I uppercut one near me with such force that it's head popped off. Another I took down by slitting it's throat. Another with a kick to the knee and a twisting of the neck. Another by swinging my whip horizontally. Another with dagger, than another with a whip strike, than another with punch strong enough to explode it's skull.
Yet with every one I killed two more were summoned in it's place. It went from ten Zombies, to twenty, to thirty, to forty, to fifty. They just kept coming and coming and coming! There's no end to them! I punched one so hard it's chest cavity exploded, and by swiping it's legs off and stomping it's head into mush, another by crushing it's head like a grape.
I spun my whip horizontally again, before vertically splitting one from groin to neck. With my whip still in the air I brought down with such force as to split the stone and form a small fissure.
Several of them were trapped inside the fissure with broken legs and crushed ankles. I took advantage of the situation to punch one with enough force to send it flying into several other, all of them ending up impaled on a statue's stone sword. I spun at that moment and reached for a Silver Dagger only to feel nothing.
"Shit!" I cursed under my breath and reached for something else. Yet one of those Zombies grappled me from behind. I would have normally been able to break free but another grabbed ahold of my arm and began to bite it. I grunted and grabbed it by the back of it's head, crushing it's skull like a grape. Yet as I did six of them pounced upon me and one - missing it's lower half - grabbed my legs and sunk it's teeth into my lower thigh. I struggled yet more and more and more fell upon and attempted to rip me apart. I managed to free my right hand and reached for a flask of Holy Water. I crushed it in my grip.
The Zombies screamed in agony as Mortis shielded his... Eyes? A bluish gold flame enveloped the room snd burnt everything - save for me and Mortis- to a crisp. It banished away his sigil and blinded him. I ran forward and leapt upward and grasped onto Mortis scythe. I punched him in his ugly face/skull with such force several of his teeth were torn free. He snarled vanished in a burst of green light, but not before I tore away his scythe. I held the thing in one hand and looked upon for a brieft moment. Perhaps... Yes, that could work!
The second Mortis appeared again - this time where the altar once stood - I pointed the staff at him and it unleashed a blast of necromantic lightning. He easily deflected it towards a pillar which proceeded to explode into a thousand chunks.
"Foolish mortal! You cannot harm me with my own power!" I smirked and pointed the staff at him again, another blast of lightning, another deflection, another pillar destroyed.
"Are you deaf or merely dim witted?" I did it again and again and again until pieces of rubble snd debris covered nearly every inch of the room. Chunks of wall, roof, and ground were missing. Oh, he has no idea...
"What are you getting at, Belmont!?" This time I lowered the staff and admired it for minute. This guy is as thick as a bag of trolls.
"I don't know, Mortis. But if I were you, I'd watch my step."
"What are-"As quickly as I could I blasted him again, he barely deflected it, but this time he wasn't expecting his own scythe to come slashing at him. He screeched as I tore a massive, jagged, deep gash into his chest and revealed his ribcage beneath the robe. I punched him in his ugly mug snd pulled him closer by grabbing ahold of his arm. He was momentarily stunned as I delivered a fierce kick to him. He went flying backward and into the oculus window with enough force to shatter it. He quickly vanished from sight. I tossed the scythe aside and began to turn away. That was until an invisible force grabbed ahold of me and pulled me out the window. Shit! Should have seen this coming!
I found myself plummeting down towards the depths of Castlevania as Mortis appeared above me - somehow having regained his scythe - and he slashed at me. I twirled out of the way swung the Beast Hunter towards him. He teleported again and appeared beneath. I twirled out of the way of another green lightning bolt. I lashed out with a whip to his ugly mug which successfully landed. His lower jaw came loose and flew away as he slashed at me again. I wasn't fast enough to dodge and ended up with a jagged gash running down my cheek.
I pushed aside the pain and kicked Mortis in the chest, and went to grab a flask of Holy Water. Two left. I'm gonna have to be careful.
"Curse you, Belmont! I'll strip the flesh from your body and eat your soul! I'll torment you for a thousand thousand years! I'll make Hell itself cry at your misery!" He unleashed another blast that I scarcely dodged. This time I turned my head upward - thank God Old Nan convinced me not to grow my hair out, I'd be blinded right now with all the wind whipping past me - and I lashed at gargoyle statue. My whip wrapped around the neck and pulled it free. Good. I pulled it closer and swung the hunk of stone at Mortis just as he was about to unleash a blast of lightning. I hit first. He roared as the structure exploded upon him - mainly thanks to his own lightning - and with this momentary distraction I chucked my bottle at him.
It exploded upon contact. The flames engulfed him as he screeched in pain and terror, his staff let loose. I grabbed and pointed it at him and unleashed a blast of lightning that hit him square in the chest. He roared out like a demonic serpent as arcs of pale green electricity coursed through his body. He spasmed and shook and twitched before exploding in a flash of green energy and golden flames. Guess they are extinct now. Wait, what do-
I yelled out as something big and sticky wrapped around my waist and pulled me into something wet and sticky. Everything turned red for but a moment as I felt sticky things tugging and pulling and dragging me in a hundred different directions. I clenched my teeth but that didn't stop something from pouring into my mouth and down my throat. That something was foul tasting. Simultaneously too hot and too cold. Scalding and freezing. A warm liquid bathed me in a sticky fluid, those things tightening around my limbs, my head felt dizzy. I felt like I was floating, falling, and still as stone all at once. What the fu-
'We have considered your option, Lurker of Lies.'
''Lurker of Lies'? How rude! At worst I speak half-truths!'
'That in and of itself is a lie.'
'Let's agree to disagree.'
'Agreed.'
'Indeed.'
'So, what will you do, O' mighty ones?'
'We will do as you have proposed but only if necessary. For now we wait and watch.'
'Ugggggggah! What a bore...! You are no fun!'
'And you are?'
'Now you're just being cruel.'
I felt the something that had been enveloping me suddenly spit me out with a wet pop. I landed on something cold and dry. I spluttered and coughed and hacked as my body struggled to get whatever was inside of me out. I could scarcely hear the clashing of metal on stone, ragged breaths, and the rapid movement of footsteps. A red viscous fluid poured from my mouth and formed a small puddle below me. Within the... Fluid, was a writhing mass of things. Things with bodies reminiscent of worms yet had human faces. Human hands. Human voices. They squirmed and screeched like infants as they slithered beyond.
I briefly glanced about the place. It was a big room. Very big. Big enough to store a small army. Pillars flanked me and stretched for a couple hundred of feet. Large windows with tattered red curtains were placed along the walls. Pedestals containing faint blue flames rested about the room haphazardly. Those flames gave off a cold misty vapor that resembled ice, almost. Where am I? What is this place? Wh-
"LEON!" He was on his knees, blood plastering his chest, and his left arm was gone. Just gone. A bloody stump of bone and tendons hung from where his arm should have been. His whip was nowhere to be seen. There was a large vertical gash running down his right eye. He taking in wheezing breaths that hitched when he turned upon me. His remaining eye widened.
"Ricther! Run! Go! Now, just go! I-" A hand wrapped around the back of his neck. A large hand with gray flesh, bony fingers, and razor sharp black claws. The hand lifted Leon into the air and I saw a man. A thing. A devil.
He wore dark brown leather boots that were knee high. On his legs was brown leather, yet his chest was completely exposed. His flesh was gray and black veins were visible beneath the deathly pale flesh. On his stomach rested a demonic, metallic skull, which extended downward to cover his groin.
Covering his back and reaching down to his ankles was a red coat with gold trimming on it's edges and a hint of silver patterns. On his shoulders were large pauldrons that were fused with the coat. On his arms, covering his wrists yet ending before his elbow was red armor, that spiked off on the back of his elbows into jagged tips. A black circular cloth puffed out over his wrists. His hair was long and hung down like sleeping serpents the color of a starless night sky. He had a neatly trimmed beard and a faint mustache. He was tall, taller than Leon, almost as tall as Clyde, and held a lean yet muscular build. His eyes were completely black save for irises and pupils the color of blood. They glowed brightly, strongly, and emitted a sense of predatory hunger.
A thrashing thing. Like a starving, raging, mindless, demonic beast caged within the eyes of a man. Those eyes looked into my own... Into my very soul. Those eyes... They mocked me. Taunted me. I... I feel a certain cold in my chest. My gut twisting and knotting. I feel my hair standing on end. My breath hitched and my eyes widened. I know it. I feel it in my bones. Looking upon this thing... Seeing it in all of it's infernal glory... It is Dracula. It must be. I can feel his power. Great waves of clashing magics that coil and twist and devour. A wretched ocean the color of tar. A sinful well of great powers for only the Dragon to command.
He said nothing. Only glared at me with a bored expression that suggested he'd rather be doing anything but this. He had no visible scars or burns or... Really anything that would suggest he had been wounded. He stood free of exhaustion, of battle, of pain, of misery. He stood tall and strong. Powerful and undefeated. Those eyes... Those crimson eyes... What is he? A demon? A god? Something worse?
"Look upon me, boy, look upon me," his voice was tinged with an accent I knew not, but it was deep and it was angry. Yet this wasn't the primal rage of a mere monster that seeks to slaughter and feed. No. This rage... This anger... It was cold. It needed my attention. To know I understood it... "Look upon me and despair. Look upon me and realize the pathetic futility of your quest. Did he tell you? Did you tell him?" He asked Leon with a hint of a malicious joy, "No? I figured as such. You humans are such limited creatures.
I can not die. Even if you kill me... Even if you tear out my heart... Even if you cut off my head... I will be back. This is all so pointless. Cease your struggles! Cease your futile attempts at resistance! Let that enviable sleep consume you..."
Snap!
Thunk!
"LEON!"
The boy's body fell to the marble floor with a loud thunk. He was so very weak. Unworthy of the Belmont name... Of my enemy's legacy. Trevor was strong, Simon stronger. Yet each generation of that disgusting Clan grows weaker and weaker and weaker. It is revolting to see their bloodline diminish with each generation. Such a depressing sight... I had such high hopes for them.
"You monster! You fucking monster!" The boy's green eyes weapt fat tears. He glared at me, hand on his whip, legs shaking. I turned my back to home and moved towards my throne. If that older Belmont was so weak, than the boy is of no concern. An insect beneath my notice. Perhaps Alucard may arrive soon to cure me of my crushing boredom. My own son is sure to provide an excellent battle. He might even destroy my body. That would be pleasant, preferable even. Let Humanity rebuild for a century or two before returning and killing them all again. Yes. That would be nice...
"Die!" I was brought back to reality by the screaming of the young Belmont. His cross was in hand and he was in the air. How foolish.
I raised my arm, my palm pointed to him, and I called upon but a fraction of my power. Pale blue bolts of electricity pounced forward and arced about the boy's body. He screamed. The force of my magic threw him into the great doors of my hall. Iron tore and oak splintered as he was embedded within it. His body went limp, yet he still lives. I can hear his heartbeat. I can smell his hate. Oh, yes, such grand hatred! Such a monstrous ocean of wrath and fury! It sings to me. Yes, it sings to me, indeed... It calls to me with it's siren's wail. Yet... I can sense other things at work... Wretched things... His power is within the boy. Poetic.
The Champion of God embarks upon a quest to slay an evil Demon god. Where have I heard this before? Oh, if only-
"Father!" Speak of the Devil. Before me stood my prodigal son. He had materialized directly from the darkness itself like I myself sometimes do. He stood a head shorter than myself, his stomach and chest were completely exposed, his flesh was as pale as as a corpse. His stomach was sunken and his ribcage covered by a thin layer of skin. His arms were both adorned in bronze gauntlets that ended in long, clawed fingertips. He wore a dark blue, hoodless coat with silver embroidery lacing it. He wore black leather pants and bronze boots. His hair was neck length and was laying down onto his shoulders and dangling onto his back. It was as white as freshly fallen snow. His eyes were abyssal black orbs that held golden glowing pupils within.
"Cease this at once! Fight me, but let the boy live!" Diplomacy? Truly? Is this a jest? What an amusing proposition. My lips tugged into a smile as I rested my head upon my fist.
"Oh? Why should I do that? He is a Belmont. You know I will not spare a member of their disgusting bloodline... Have the ages dulled your memories? Have the centuries rendered you oblivious to the obvious? Or is this a case of selective memory?" He summoned forth his grand blade - a thing nearly seven feet in length that he called the Crissagrim - and pointed it's tip at me. I cocked an eyebrow at the action, a sly smile twisting my lips. Yes...
"Is this what mother would want, father? What would she say t'was she in my place?" Marie...
'Oh, how seductively deceptive... I like that one.'
'What are we to do, brother? He is dead, the other lies broken, and the Heir is doomed to fail...'
'It seems you win. Open the gate.'
'YES! YES! YES! I knew it! Oh, I can't wait!'
"Gabriel..." Her voice is as clear as a priceless gem. I can still feel her phantom touch, the smell of lavender and roses that she brought with her, the warmth of her blue eyes... The feel of her soft lips against mine. I can still remember her white dress flowing in the wind, how she would - My Prince? What ails you, my Lord?
The voices echoed within my mind as my eyes fixated upon Alucard. My claws punctured the flesh of my palms as I rose to my full height. I glared upon him as I extended my left arm and pointed a finger at him. Yes...
"You dare to bring her into this? You... I've had enough of this futile conversation! I will-" the castle began to quake suddenly. Large tears formed within the marble, windows shattering inward, flames roaring upward as lightning boomed outside. I can sense it. A vast yet unfamiliar power is at work. Something I have never felt before... What is this?
I suddenly found myself floating as all things began to fade away. Colors blended, space bent and twisted, gravity ceased to be. What sorcery is this!? Mast- a ringing chaos erupted around me as heat and cold and sapping violence lashed out against me. I could feel a million fragmented things of what never was pull and tear at my flesh. Each sought to drag me into a nonexistence realm of eldritch lies.
I fought and struggled against my invisible attackers with confused ferocity. I felt a gust of wind against my back, shards of ice impaling my stomach, bolts of vile lightning arcing around my body. What is this!?
I don't... My mind grows weary... My vision fades... What is...
'And so it is done. He is gone... Banished away for all eternity... How exciting!'
'Should we...?
'No. No.'
'Hhhmm?'
'None of your concern, vile wretch.'
'Oh well...'
This chapter took months of working, erasing, and more working to complete. My other story, Writhing Shadows, is more of a side project. This is my true passion. Don't expect updates anytime soon. Chapters for this story will take weeks and even months to finalize and post. Anyway, how was it? Good or bad? Lay it on me raw. Anything or everything.
Also to clarify; in this story Dracul will be known as Dracula. He will be roughly 7'7 in height. I am also incorporating certain elements of og Castlevania Dracula as well as anime Dracula into this, but it's mostly the same Lords of Shadow Dracula.
Anyway, I'd like to hear your thoughts and feelings with this story. Any speculation? Or predictions? Just go on and say whatever comes to mind. Until next time, my good friends.