Castlevania: Lisa's Last Words
Chapter 6: Seeking
Richter Belmont stood before the foreboding gates of Castlevania, a sight all too familiar and unwelcome. This marked his third foray into the accursed castle, and he fervently hoped it would be his last. His initial venture had been to vanquish the Dark Lord and bring peace to the land; the second, a result of manipulation by a foe he thought long defeated, had forced him to try to revive the Count. Now, with his prime waning despite his best efforts, Richter felt the weight of his years bearing down upon him.
As he prepared to enter, he checked his weapons with a practiced hand, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his family. A decade had passed since Castlevania last rose, and in that time, Anne had given birth to their son. Richter longed to be reunited with his child, but duty called him to face the Dark Lord once more. Maria, his trusted ally and friend, was nowhere to be found, and Alucard, the son of Dracula, had vanished into the unknown. His son was too young to wield the Vampire Killer, leaving Richter the sole defender against the forces of darkness.
As he stepped inside, the massive gate slammed shut behind him, a familiar and ominous sound. Richter proceeded with caution, surprised by the lack of opposition. No bats or skeletons barred his path, and the few creatures he encountered fled at the sight of him. The castle's layout had changed, as it always did, but Richter navigated the traps and pitfalls with ease, his seasoned instincts guiding him through the treacherous halls.
Either the castle's inhabitants feared him, or they had been ordered to avoid him. Richter suspected the latter, and his wariness grew. He felt like he was being led into a trap, waiting for the Dark Lord's forces to strike. But as he passed the clock tower, it wasn't until he reached the throne room that he found someone who stood their ground.
Death, the Grim Reaper, floated in the air, his skeletal face contemplative. Richter readied his whip, prepared for battle. "At last... where is your master?" he asked, his voice firm and commanding.
Death's response was solemn, his voice barely above a whisper. "Departed." Richter sensed a hint of loneliness in the skeletal being's tone, a rare and unsettling sight.
"Departed?" Richter repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. This journey to face the Dark Lord had been full of unexpected twists.
"Yes," Death confirmed. "And before you ask, I don't know where he's gone. My Lord simply instructed me to tell intruders like yourself that he's taken a vacation."
Richter's incredulity was palpable. "A vacation? Dracula? I find that hard to believe." He couldn't fathom the Dark Lord taking a break from his evil schemes.
Death sighed, his skeletal shoulders rising and falling in a gentle shrug. "Believe me or not, it's the truth as I know it. We can battle if you wish, but it would be pointless. We've fought before, and the outcome would likely be the same. As long as my Lord still lives, he'll restore me soon enough."
Richter hesitated, then nodded and sheathed his whip. "You're right, a battle would serve no purpose as long as Dracula's twisted existence continues." He eyed Death warily as he searched the room, but there was no sign of the Dark Lord. "I'll believe you speak the truth as you know it, but I refuse to accept that Dracula can ever truly take a vacation."
Death shrugged again. "Perhaps not, but that's what my master said. Even a being like him may need rest at times." Richter scoffed, unconvinced, and continued his search through the castle, determined to uncover the truth.
The flame hovered above the village, casting an eerie glow over the scene unfolding below. Dracula willed the flame to remain in the air as he approached, his curiosity piqued by the commotion. A scream drew his attention to a group of individuals, and he watched with a mix of disgust and fascination as two inebriated men accosted the very same young girl he had met here the other night. The men's slurred insults and staggering movements betrayed their intoxicated state, and Dracula's glamor couldn't mask his growing unease.
"Ay girlie! I thought we told you to stay out of here, urchin!" one of the men sneered, delivering a swift kick to the girl's nose. Dracula's keen senses detected the metallic scent of blood as the girl's nose broke under the impact. The men's cruelty continued, with another kick sending the girl crashing to the ground. "I... I didn't..." she stammered, her words cut short by a scream as the man stomped on her left hand.
Dracula hesitated, torn between intervening and allowing the scene to unfold. He had long avoided feeling guilt for his actions against humanity, in part citing their capacity for cruelty as justification. Yet, as the child was struck again, he found himself unable to stand idly by.
With a swift motion, Dracula summoned a blade and strode forward, striking one of the men from behind with the pommel. The man crumpled, unconscious or dead, and Dracula turned to the other, his blade poised in warning. "Wha...? What're you..." the remaining drunkard stammered, his eyes wide with surprise.
Dracula gazed at the downed man and his companion with disdain. He raised his blade, pointing it at the remaining drunkard. "Begone. I will not warn you again," he threatened, his voice firm and commanding. The man hesitated, then retreated, casting a fearful glance at the blade. Dracula remained vigilant until the man vanished from sight.
The girl, still cowering, slowly lifted her head and gazed up at Dracula. Her eyes, streaming with tears and blood, locked onto his face, and for a moment, she looked perplexed. Then, a smile spread across her face. "Mr. Matt! You came back!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet and embracing his leg with a tight hug.
Dracula was taken aback; his glamor should have rendered him unrecognizable. "How did you know it was I?" he asked, his shock evident in his tone.
The girl's response was innocent and straightforward. "You look different, but you feel the same."
Dracula's pride was piqued. "Like a terrible creature of the night," he boasted, expecting fear to flicker across her face.
Instead, the girl chuckled. "What's that?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You just feel like a nice man."
Dracula's expression softened, his surprise at her words mingling with a hint of interest. This child saw the embodiment of evil as a 'nice man' as she spoke of it. The girl's response stirred something within him, perhaps a glimmer of hope? His gaze lingered on her, and for a moment, he forgot the darkness that defined him.
Dracula sighed and stepped back from the girl, creating a distance between them. He summoned the flame once more, and it obediently came to his hand, its purple-bluish hue casting an eerie glow on the scene. The recent series of coincidences was too remarkable to ignore; something had drawn him to this place before, and it was doing so again. With a thought, the flame homed in on its target, approaching the girl as Dracula had expected.
The girl reached out a hand, and to Dracula's lack of surprise, the flame didn't scorch her. "It's warm..." she said, smiling as the purple flame danced around her, its gentle warmth a stark contrast to the darkness of the night in which the two figures stood.
"It is all that remains of one I once valued above all others. It is now yours," Dracula said, his voice tinged with nostalgia, the memory of his beloved Lisa flooding his mind. The flame would burn as long as its new master willed it, a lasting remnant of the love Dracula had lost.
Dracula kneeled beside the girl, examining her wounds with a practiced eye. Most were superficial, but her broken nose required attention. He grasped it gently, warning, "This will be painful." The girl let out a tiny shriek as Dracula expertly reset the bone, his fingers moving with a precision that belied his monstrous nature.
Standing up, Dracula noticed his hand was now stained with the girl's blood. He shrugged and idly licked a small amount off his palm, only to freeze in shock. "Heh heh heh..." The Dark Lord began to laugh, recognizing the taste. He had savored and smelled that blood enough times to know whose blood it was. "Hahahahahahahahaha!" Dracula's laughter grew more maniacal by the minute, echoing through the night, a sound that would send chills down the spine of any who heard it.