Author's Note: Holy cow. This took a little too long. Got COVID right at the turn of the year, but I'm all recovered.

The next chapter is done, and much longer. It was hard to split this and the next one up cleanly, so I did it like this. Bear with me, it'll be worth it.

Once I clean up the next chapter, I'll post it. Hopefully today.

Chapter 12:

Regicide

"Oh, man, oh man," Lenny said, darting his head left and right. "Where did she go?"

Jenny's face grew paler and paler with each text she sent. "She's not responding!"

"Crap! What do we do?"

"I dunno!"

"Well, we gotta think of something! What about mom?"

"Tried her. Nothing. Must be in a meeting."

"Cous?"

"Allie probably wants to strangle Kid, and us. No way. And I'm not sure Gray is willing to forgive us, either."

"Dad?"

"He's at home, he can't help!"

"Shit, you're right. Thanks, dad."

"It's not his fault, dumb dumb!"

"True…"

"Focus!"

"Sorry!"

The twins sighed in unison, both out of frustration.

"Let's just…think this through," Jenny said finally. "Where does Kid like to go when she's upset?"

Lenny scrunched his face up in thought. "Hm…ice cream shop?"

"In October? Not likely."

"Oh, skate park!

"Nah, there're many people there who would give her shit. You saw her feed."

"Shit…smoke shop?"

"She might have run out of smokes, but there are so many smoke shops in Death City. No way we'd find the one she's at in time to catch her."

"Not to mention we're lost."

"Yeah, there's that, too."

"Damn," they said in unison.

The more they thought about their situation, the more trouble they thought they were in. Looking at each other, they wordlessly nodded in resolution. They needed help, and they knew it.

Jenny quickly set about texting Allie.

Just as she was about to hit the send key, her screen went black. Confused, she tapped it a few times, tried to hit the home button. Nothing.

She looked at her brother, who quickly pulled out his own phone. Black screen. Unresponsive.

It suddenly dawned on them what had happened. Their phones had run out of battery. And at the worst possible time.

"Uh, oh," they said in unison.

Shinigami-sama shot out of the sky and impacted the ground in front of the dark castle, a crooked earthen path whose sides dropped off into bleak ravines and jagged cliffs below.

The castle was nestled into a mountainside, defended on all sides by black rock, its many crooked towers clawing at the ashen sky like scorched fingers. In front of him was a massive onyx wall, buttressed by two towers and split by a tall, square, black iron gate. Flooding the ground before the castle walls was an army of men, clad in black and red, with swords and spears of black steel and gray wood.

The sky was dark despite it being the afternoon, a haze of dark clouds bringing shade to the mountains.

With a roar of effort, the death god leapt from the crater he had made in the earth and into the fray. One swing of his scythe left the five closest to him cleaved in two, their souls absorbed into the blade. More men rushed in, stabbing with their spears, but he sliced the blades off their shafts before taking a man by the head with his free hand and crushing his skull. He tossed the spearman's body aside before driving his fist into another, sending him spiraling into his comrades, their bodies flying as he barreled through them. Another man tried to meet the Grim Reaper with a long sword, but he was not quick enough, and soon found his world spinning as his head was severed at the neck.

"Where is your master!?" Shinigami-sama called out, spinning and slashing at his adversaries before catching the blades of three men, snapping them with his fingers, and jamming them into their chests like stakes of steel. "WHERE IS HE!?"

Another breath of nicotine.

This time, it shot out of her nose, her exhale like gunsmoke from the business end of a double barrel. Kid lay alone on a massive skull-shaped structure close to the edge of Death City, a snubbed cigarette between her teeth. The structure wasn't just for decoration, rather it actually hid the shape of a large warehouse responsible for shipping exports, usually Death City-branded items, to other parts of the world.

Kid liked lounging there because she had free roof access, and because no one could tell her to piss off without sliding off the skull and into the city below.

She took another breath in as she laid back on the ground, eyes toward the ashen sky. Thoughts drifted through her mind slowly and lazily like the smoke from her cig filtered through the air. Some of them were pretty straightforward.

Fuck you, pops, fuckin' stringin' me out like this.

Hungry…maybe I should snag a burrito or something…

Least the sun's not out…no need to break out the aviators…

Others were a little more nuanced.

Guess the twins are gonna have to fend for themselves, huh?

They're probably losing their minds, heheh…

Maybe I should send a text or something, let them know where I'm at…

She frowned for a second, mulling it over.

Nah, they're fine, she reasoned.

There was no way in hell she was turning her phone back on. She knew better. Between her dad, her friends, and her enemies, which basically amounted to…everyone, there was no one she wanted to talk to.

So, she stayed up there, burning through cig after cig, knowing her shinigami body wasn't affected by things like smoke inhalation. Before long, she had a pile of spent cigarette butts next to her, the ash smearing black on the bone-colored stucco. She watched as the gray sky began to darken, day beginning to transition to night in Death City.

Another nicotine exhale, another sigh, another wasted breath.

I'm so tired…maybe I should take a bath when I get home…

Even from the bath chamber, the death cries of his men were clearly audible.

"I am certain that it is nothing to concern yourself with, master," his manservant said politely. "Your footmen stand vigilant."

"That is exactly what concerns me," the vampire king said flatly. "Those fools are mere mortals, not strong or virile enough to survive my boons. My thralls are far more reliable a defense."

Indeed, though all of his armies were most formidable, most of his stronger legions were occupying enemy territories surrounding Wallachia. The human regiment guarding the castle exterior were just that: human. Not of much use.

His other servants were much more powerful.

"I understand, sir. Shall I drain the bath?"

"No, let me linger here for a moment. I shall leave when it is required of me."

At that moment, a man crashed through the marble walls of the bath chamber, his body a bloody mess. He flew past at breakneck speed, a death rattle escaping through the gaping wound in his throat. His body hit the wall across the way with a wet splat before slapping onto the tiled floor, his weapon clattering down as he was shredded into black ashes, leaving his soul behind.

"Damn it all," the count said with a sigh.

He calmly rose to his feet, his body moving as if it were lifted by marionette strings. As he drifted out of the bath, shadows reached out from the corners of the room and draped over his form, clothing him in darkness and red velvet, crisp white linens and brass buttons, black leather and a blood rose. His gloves creaked as he clenched his fingers, cracking his knuckles on both hands as he forced himself to relax.

Breathe.

Focus.

See.

His cold, wine-colored eyes glazed over white as he looked through the eyes of one of his bat familiars, his awareness stretching out to the front lines. There, from a high upon his castle wall, he saw not an invading army, but a single opponent. It was a shadow, a phantom, something that shook the earth with its power.

The Grim Reaper.

He watched as the shinigami crushed his infantry and his cavalry, slaughtering man and beast alike with a massive scythe. When his hollow sockets turned to meet the bat familiar's eyes, for the first time since he had risen to power, a stone of fear settled in the count's heart. The Grim Reaper's eyes then flashed with a bright golden light, and his vision snapped back to the bath chamber, his familiar slain with but a glance.

He took a sharp breath in, stunned.

"Does something trouble you, my lord?" his servant asked.

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"No."

His eyes burned red like hot coals as he stretched his hand out, his fingernails elongating, tearing through his gloves. Darkness pooled on the floor around him, shadows swirling into the air like smoke. Glistening fangs surged from his jaws, the skin of his face face pulling tight against his skull as he gave a command to his thralls, his true servants, his army of the undead:

"Come, my children. Slay the Grim Reaper, and fetch me his soul."

Eerie cries, wails, and roars began echoing through the chambers of the castle, bones cracking and muscles moving en masse as the vampire's forces began to move forward toward the enemy, surging through the halls, crashing through the windows, breaking through the gates…a flood of pale white flesh and crimson-stained teeth.

He sighed as his body shifted back to normal, the infernal spark in his eyes dimming.

"Now we shall see what shall rule the peoples of the civilized nations, Moartea…death…or undeath."

Allie's foot tapped impatiently as she waited for the twins to shoot a text back.

"Still no word?" Max asked.

"It's been a while now," Valor added.

"Something's wrong," Allie said with a frown. "Jenny was about to send me something, but she stopped."

Max scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe they got distracted? Or something came up?"

"Maybe, but…"

"C'mon, now, y'all are thinkin' too hard," Flint said casually. He shot his glass another look, deciding not to take another sip. "What's there to worry about?"

"Normally, not much," Allie admitted. "But with Kid on the run and them stranded…I am a little worried."

Her weapon clicked his teeth disapprovingly. "You make it sound like they cain't tell their heads from some holes in the ground."

"They kinda can't," Val said with a grin. "No offense, Allie."

"No, you're right. They have no common sense. They follow Kid around everywhere she goes, do almost anything she asks them to do, and take her lead on everything. Taking a backseat in combat, I can understand. She's their meister. But…graffiti? Ditching class? Pulling dumb stunts around the Academy?"

Max adjusted his glasses. "So, what? Their dependence on Kid is keeping them from making good decisions?"

"More like any decisions," Allie corrected. "Think about it, when they need something, who do they turn to?"

"Kid," the boys answered.

"Exactly. They rely on her for everything."

"So, what yer sayin' is…they haven't got the sense God gave a goose," Flint said with a chuckle.

"Which is why them not responding is a bad sign," Allie said, checking her phone again. "What's taking them so long?"

The twins weren't stupid, she knew that. They were scaredy cats about a lot of things, had no common sense, and didn't do well on exams, but they were no fools. Her Aunt Liz raised no fools. She had to wonder what would stop Lenny and Jenny from texting, from calling, from getting help from family. Then, it hit her.

"What if their phones are dead?" Allie realized, her eyes widening.

"That would explain why they haven't hit us back," Val mused.

Max scoffed. "I find it highly unlikely that their phones would both die at the exact same time. Just because they're twins doesn't mean they do everything the same way."

His confidence wilted when he saw Allie's expression.

"Right?"

Allie just shook her head. "We need to find them. Like, now."

"We goin' huntin'?" Flint said as he stood up, abandoning his drink.

"Well, if we are, we're going to need a larger hunting party," Max said, a concerned frown darkening his features. "Should we get the police involved?"

"They're not missing, they're just lost," Allie replied as she quickly slipped into some socks and sneakers, throwing a coat over her shoulders as well. "We can find them."

Val shrugged. "It's gonna take us a while, unless one of y'all figured out how to fly recently."

The boys heard some digital typing sounds as Allie fired off a few texts. "Don't worry. I'm calling in some backup."

The last footsoldier screamed and clawed at Shinigami-sama's arm as he grasped him by the top of the head, his feet kicking out in all directions as he tried to find purchase on ground that was no longer beneath him.

"Where is your master, you wretched welp?"

He continued his screaming, too terrified or too stubborn to reveal anything.

"WHERE IS HE!?"

Still he screamed, trying to buy his life back with wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"So be it. This is the price of your loyalty."

A sickening crunch echoed through the mountain pass as the reaper crushed the man's skull, tossing his broken body from the path and down into the ravines below before it burst into shadow. He retrieved his scythe from where the handle was jammed in the ribcage of a slain warhorse, twirling it to shed the blood and mud from the blade and grip. Looking around, he counted the souls he had taken.

Infantry, cavalry, archers…all human kishin eggs, all dead, numbering in the hundreds, their souls absorbed into his blade, leaving the battlefield empty. Enough to defend a castle, but not enough to compose an invading army. It seemed to him that he had caught the vampire king while his forces were deployed elsewhere.

Then there was the familiar, the one he had used Death's Stare to destroy. It was small, practically worthless. But he had learned from so many years fighting the witches of the old world that magic made even the smallest beast a weapon.

Something told him that he had yet to deplete his foe's defenses.

He rushed toward the gate, intending to break it down, but something stopped him. A loud, wailing cry, followed by the sounds of thousands upon thousands of hands and feet striking stone, the cracking of bones, all of it set against a cacophony of roars, screams, and cries echoing the first. Before he could approach, the massive gates before him were blasted from their hinges, forcing him to duck out of the way as they crashed to the ground, one becoming embedded in the earth while the other was sent tumbling into the abyss below.

Growling and furrowing his bony brow, Shinigami-sama gripped his scythe with both hands and looked back at the castle.

There, surging out from the tops of the walls and scrambling across the earth through the gap in the gateway came an army of pale-skinned humanoid creatures with obsidian claws, yellowed fangs, and burning red eyes set in sockets that were pulled tight against their skulls. Hairless, musty, damp, and sour; they were undoubtedly undead, and that marked them for death. Shinigami-sama, enraged, faced them head-on, his blade at the ready.

One of the beasts leapt high into the air, striking down with its claws. The Grim Reaper rose to meet him, cutting it in twain, its two halves falling to the ground, still intact. No soul was drawn into the scythe, confirming its undead nature.

"Wretched abominations…DIE."

With that, he crashed back down to the ground, sending out a shockwave that sent many of the thralls screaming into the ravines to either side. Those closest to him instantly recovered, and set about trying to overwhelm him. He cut them to ribbons, slashing wildly in all directions before using his control over his weapon to leave it spinning in the air beside him.

The thralls that tried to move past it or through it were destroyed. Another tried to rush his side, but he turned and punched straight through its chest, its fetid insides and mangled spine exploding from its back. Still, it clawed at him, but he reached his other hand inside and tore the creature in half.

Before he could retrieve his scythe, three latched onto his shadowy body, driving their fangs and claws into him.

"Cursed heathens! GET OFF OF ME! RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!"

He flung them aside like dolls, taking the last by his head, jamming his thumbs in its eye sockets and pulling its head apart.

"Orcus!"

His scythe froze in the air, then returned to him, twirling and rending the heads and legs from those it passed through before he caught it.

"Enough of this!" he cried. "This is where you die, scum."

Violet light spilled from between his shadowy fingers as he gripped his weapon, his soul swelling with the limitless power of a god. Skulls cast in darkness surged around him, infernal blue flames curling out of their mouths, their merciless white eyes bright like stars. The thralls stopped in their tracks and scrambled back out of fear as the light betwixt his fingers became golden like the sun.

Orcus, now a beacon of light against the forces of the dark, its blade a golden crescent of holy power, swiftly tore through the air as the Grim Reaper twisted his body into a devastating swing, making to cut the entire mob of the undead in twain.

"Witch-Hunt Slash!"

The cry was so loud that folks from miles away could taste his rage in the air, the force behind it enough to shake the earth and rattle the mountains. All that remained after the cut were the severed limbs and pieces of his quarry, their bodies piled at the foot of the gateway they had blasted open. Behind them, the castle walls were scorched, a clean line cut into the stone from where Orcus' blade had met them.

As Shinigami-sama recovered, a blur surged to the top of the leftmost castle tower, then shot down to a space of earth just before the castle walls, then appeared before him as a man.

The man was tall, pale, and meticulously well-groomed, his dark, shoulder-length hair curling gently at the ends. His wine-colored eyes regarded the Grim Reaper with the distaste a scornful mother might show to a troublesome child, though he remained stoic in the face of death itself. Cloaked in a black ensemble with crisp linens, blood red lining, and a rather pompous fanned collar, he stood stalwart, adjusting the fit of his gloves.

"So, the master of the house finally greets his guest," Shinigami-sama said sourly. "About time you crawled out of your hole, you pretentious bastard."

He scoffed. "The master of the house never greets his guests first. He always sends a servant in his stead."

"Yes, well…I dispatched your servants."

"So I see," he said wearily, eyeing the sea of cleaved bodies before him.

The Grim Reaper's gaze narrowed. "You're next. Tell me your name so I can scratch it off my list."

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, stiffened, and said with practiced precision: "You face Count Dracula of Wallachia, second son of Dracul, first of the nosferatu, Vlad the Impaler, the Dragon of Transylvania and Lord of Castle Stoker."

If the death god could have given the man an impressed frown, he would have. Instead, he simply nodded his head and gripped his weapon tighter.

"I could do without the posturing," he said flatly.

With a roar, Shinigami-sama swung with his scythe, but was stopped short of rending the vampire's head from his shoulders. Shocked, he looked to see that Dracula had drawn the sword on his left hip halfway out from its scabbard, using it as a shield to deflect the blow. Dracula grinned eerily as he held the reaper at bay, his right arm over his head while his left hand gripped the sheath.

"Your form needs work," Dracula said dryly.

With a twist and a mighty kick, he sent Shinigami-sama flying backward, with him landing in a heap a thousand feet from the castle walls. Dracula brought his leg back down, then tested the weight of his blade, the broadsword forged by his father Dracul and quenched in the blood of a dragon. He swiped a few times at the air before walking with blatant overconfidence towards his nemesis.

"Come, then. Let us settle this."

"You're Count Dracula?" Shinigami-sama said, eyes wide, a half-eaten cucumber sandwich in his hand. "The Count Dracula, of legend?"

"The very same," Mosquito admitted with a nod.

"That makes sense," Stein said, seemingly uninterested. "There are plenty of rumors about vampires, but only a few confirmed tales from that era, and only one that tells of a vampire king doing battle with death himself."

Maka raised an eyebrow, but did her best to conceal her excitement. "Certainly would explain the whole bat thing," she mused. "And the bloodsucking."

Again, Shinigami-sama turned to his long time friend and said, "Tell me he's lying, Maka."

"He's not," she said with a shrug. "I can tell. There's a shame that comes with remembering what he once was." Her eyes narrowed. "How far he's fallen. I can see it in his soul."

Mosquito stiffened, but said nothing, knowing that trying to refute her was a futile effort.

"So you really did tangle with Kid's old man." Black Star said with a scoff, taking a sip of whiskey. "Dunno how you survived. The old Shinigami-sama was no pushover. Fact, he was unhinged, from what the stories say."

He put his drink down and glared at the vampire over his hands, his knuckles cracking, eyes all shadow and killing intent.

"I want to hear every last fucking detail about that fight. Every drop of blood spilled, every bone broken, every curse hurled, get me? I need to know…everything."

A grim silence came over the group after that. Black Star was a warrior god, and the only warrior god on Earth. Most of the time, that meant fighting the forces that would destroy humanity, alongside Shinigami-sama and the DWMA.

But every once in a while, the kind of madness that came with being a bonafide god of war revealed itself, demanding him to seek a fight or spark a conflict.

The Madness of Power.

In this case, it drove him to know more about the ancient powers the shinigami once wielded, and the powers that could stand up to them.

Shaken, but not in his resolve to reveal his past and come to an understanding in the present, Mosquito focused and continued his tale.

"Very well. I shall tell you of my battle with the late Shinigami-sama…a battle that changed the course of mankind's history…and changed the course of my life forever."

Gray Star rushed down the stairs of her and Sage's apartment, finding the demon shadow weapon in his favorite armchair, enjoying a book on what appeared to be poetry.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, not looking up.

"We are," she said, which caught his attention.

He quickly stood up and put his book back in its gap on the shelf. "Is something wrong?"

"It's Jenny and Lenny. Kid ran off, and they're stranded."

"Stranded?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "They have smartphones, don't they?"

"They do, and they'd probably use them…if their batteries weren't dead," she admitted.

Sage frowned pensively. "Surely, there are other solutions. Simply asking for directions or using the Academy as a reference point would do. It is the tallest and largest structure in Death City, after all."

Gray shook her head, a sad smile on her face. "The twins have always had an awful sense of direction. When they were kids, they could get lost on a playground, or even in Aunt Liz's old house. Nowadays, they're a little more put together, but even with map apps and GPS, they take ages to get from point A to point B."

"Curious."

"Regardless, we have to go find them. Without their phones, they're sitting ducks."

"What is your plan?"

"It's not my plan, it's Allie's. She's getting everyone to do a search. You and I will start from the city walls and work our way in, while everyone else will start at the Academy and fan out."

Sage nodded. "A solid strategy. No matter where the twins are, someone is bound to run into them. And if you and I encounter any of the others, we'll be able to narrow down where the twins might be."

When Shinigami-sama succeeded his father, he had, of course, marked eight major roads that spread out from the DWMA, cutting Death City into perfectly symmetrical districts. First Street to Eighth Street would be covered by Allie, Flint, Specter, Nina, Max, Val, Rose, and Stanford, leaving Gray Star and Sage everywhere from the outside walls to the spaces in between. For most, that would be a lengthy and laborious task.

For someone as fast as they were, it was merely an inconvenience.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He nodded and shifted into his ninjato form, which Gray Star swiftly caught and twirled between her fingers before settling into a low stance.

"Speed Star."

The front door opened and closed gently before a streak of gray began weaving its way through the quickly darkening streets of Death City, winter turning the sun away in favor of the moon early.

Dracula's cape billowed as he fell from the sky, blade in hand. He swung in a horizontal arc, aiming to slice the Grim Reaper's head open. Slashing out several times in the span of a few seconds, he became a whirlwind of steel.

But his attacks were deflected, and he eventually touched ground, at which point Shinigami-sama counter-attacked.

With divine fury, he slashed at the vampire, angling his swipes earthward so as not to allow his quarry the opportunity to fly away again. Dracula responded by stabbing at his chest, so the reaper twirled and aimed to maim his legs. Unfortunately, his opponent artfully jumped away, becoming a blur of motion as he spun through the air, touching down at a safe distance.

Before Shinigami-sama could retort, Dracula closed the gap in an instant, forcing him to block with the shaft of his scythe.

"You are slow," Dracula said with a smirk.

"Mock me at your peril, scum."

The count said nothing, but instead twirled, ducked, and slashed at Shinigami-sama's center, finding purchase in his shadowy body and causing him to stumble back with a groan of pain, dark mist spilling from the wound before it closed.

This elicited a chuckle from Dracula. "So gods do bleed."

In response, the Grim Reaper roared and leapt forward, swinging with all his might in a rage. Up and to the right, to the left, down and to the right, then upward, spinning and striking with the shaft in between twirling Orcus in such a way as to disorient his opponent. Suddenly, the vampire was overwhelmed, on the defensive.

But when Shinigami-sama made to pierce him with the butt end of his scythe shaft, equivalent to a stake through the heart, he vanished in a cloud of mist.

"Grr…sorcery," he growled.

Dracula passed through his opponent's form like a ghost, only to rematerialize and lunge for what would be his throat, hoping to sap his life essence. Of course, this deception did not fool the Grim Reaper. With a grunt, he turned and hammered the vampire's jaw with his elbow, reversing his momentum.

Before his quarry could retreat, he reached out and caught him by the wrist. Having disabled his weapon hand, Shinigami-sama gripped his arm tightly and pulled him in, slamming his skull into Dracula's face. He tossed Orcus aside and pummeled him with his bare fist, ribs crunching, bones snapping, and muscles tearing.

He then reached back and extended the claws on his right hand, his own name on his arm glowing with radiant light as he attempted to plunge it into the count's chest. Once again, Dracula turned to mist and disappeared, though this time he relinquished his blade, which Shinigami-sama immediately took advantage of. Seeing where the mist was to coalesce, he hurled the blade at the space, then summoned Orcus and gave chase, the blue fires of the underworld propelling him forward.

Dracula recovered in time to snatch his blade from the air, block Shinigami-sama's opening swing, and counterattack with a swift kick to the head with his right leg. Shinigami-sama blocked with his arm, prompting the count to respond with several more kicks, these ones finding their mark. Battered, the reaper stepped back only for Dracula to advance and slash at him, cleaving a mass of shadow from his shoulder and another from where his legs would be.

They continued in this way for ages, attacking and counter-attacking, taking blows and giving back twice as many. Dracula tried to behead the death god, but only managed to scratch his mask in addition to the other wounds he inflicted. Shinigami-sama, meanwhile, bloodied his opponent with his claws, but couldn't land a mortal blow with Orcus.

After dodging yet another scythe swing, Dracula made to stab Shinigami-sama through the heart. The Grim Reaper moved to defend, but in vain, for the attack was a feint. With a swift turn of his blade, the vampire king took his foe's right arm.

Enraged and unwilling to let his enemy see weakness, Shinigami-sama let Orcus fall and grabbed his severed limb in order to use itas a weapon instead. Dracula, not expecting such an attack, tried to defend, but overextended, and soon found the arm's claws buried deep in his back, the black fingers caging his heart.

Were the arm not severed, the Grim Reaper simply could have clenched his fist and rended the vampire's soul from his body right then and there. But they were both beaten bloody, and broken. All they could do was separate from each other, both of their blades cast into the mud and muck beneath them.

Dracula gasped, blood spilling from his mouth as he looked down at the spindly black fingers that pierced his chest like obsidian nails.

"Do you truly believe this to be the end of me?" he asked, coughing up a gout of crimson as he struggled to keep his balance.

"No," Shinigami-sama replied, his mask chipped and split, his shadows fraying at their edges. "But you shall meet your end soon, heathen. Pray your last…before I smite you."

A bloody, stifled scoff escaped the count's lips as he stood up straighter, reaching back for death's arm. He found it, clutched it tightly, and tore it out of his back, taking muscle, organ, and bone with it. The process was painful beyond imagination, and he screamed a horrendous, deathly screech of agony as Shinigami-sama's limb landed on the blood-covered path to the castle.

"This…will not…do…" he breathed.

Shinigami-sama straightened at that, the words a sign that something was coming. He could feel it in the air, the changing of the shape of his soul into something more abhorrent, more powerful and dark. Every part of him demanded that he charge in and slaughter the fool before he could transform, but he could not.

His wounds were too grievous.

"This will not do…at all…"

Suddenly, Dracula's eyes became focused coals of bright crimson light, his soul expanding to fill the space around him, the force sending the bodies of his footmen and cavalrymen flying into the ravines on either side of the path. The shape of it changed, also, something Shinigami-sama could see. It suddenly sprouted wings, but not of a bat or some other form of fauna, and it became black as pitch, runes etched into its surface glowing the same red as his eyes.

Blood magic runes, indicative of a dark magic curse.

"So now…you reveal your true nature," Shinigami-sama said wearily.

His eyes narrowed dangerously as Dracula let out a feral roar, shedding his mortal body and becoming something more monstrous, something only heard about in legends. Then, in a flash, he was gone, his departure causing so great a blast that the path to his castle was cleared completely of debris and fallen men, and Shinigami-sama was thrown high into the air. Only barely able to recover and keep himself aloft, he instinctively turned and caught his severed arm before it was lost to the mountains.

When he looked back upon Castle Stoker again, the sky above the mountain peaks was split, the clouds parting to reveal the setting sun, which might have brought death to the vampire king were he not a new beast altogether.

For there, curled defensively around the castle's tallest tower, wings fanned out behind it, scales glinting wickedly in the rays of orange light framing the mountain, rested a massive black dragon.

"Of course," the Grim Reaper said, the flames holding him aloft almost giving out.

With a growl of pain, he brought his right arm back into its socket, tendrils of shadow reaching out like sinew to reattach it. He tested the connection by flexing his fingers, then put his other hand out.

"Orcus!"

Whirling through the air, his prized scythe flew back into his grasp, his bond with it calling it home. Still feeling a burning in his arm, he gripped the shaft tightly with both hands, his gaze set on Dracula, the dragon before him.

"Come, then…let us end this once and for all."