章節 104: Chapter 101: Last Stand
Power manifests differently for everyone; to some, it's a vision or a metaphor, and to Ricky, it appeared as a cliff, looming, unyielding, and hateful.
At the top of this precipice stood Dracula, looking down like a monarch from his throne, gazing upon the endless struggles of those below with detached amusement, as if watching worms squirm in the dirt.
To him, Ricky should have been just another among the writhing mass, a creature to be crushed and dismissed.
What Dracula failed to understand was the nature of the cliff itself, the very foundation where he stood and looked down upon the world.
This cliffside bore the marks of countless attempts to scale it, its rough walls covered in the desperate scratches and bloody claw marks of those who tried and fell, shattered by the fall, deterring most.
The wall was a tapestry of failed attempts, a symphony of resilience Dracula mocked but never truly understood.
Yet amid the scratches and stains of struggle, one set of marks was different.
These clawed imprints, deeper and more relentless, reappeared time and again, each fresh with blood, as though the climber had been beaten back repeatedly, only to return each time with renewed determination.
These were Ricky's marks.
Unlike others, he climbed with ruthless resolve, even when there was no clear foothold, his fingers digging into the stone, carving out grips through sheer force of will.
And when Dracula finally looked closer, truly looked at those blood-streaked, sweat-stained handholds, he saw it.
A hand, torn and bloodied, had reached the summit as its nails dug into the earth with a defiant grip, pulling Ricky up to stand beside him, that familiar smirk playing across his face, undeterred and unbroken.
THOOM
"You fool, this changes nothing." Dracula lifted his gaze, unamused, eyes narrowing at the writhing storm of power before him.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ricky let out a twisted laugh, echoing with a sickening edge, feeling the full brunt of his berserk state as his sanity was slipping in and out.
His void-black aura surged, wild and furious, as if it would tear him apart from within.
The chaotic energy around him shifted and coiled, red and green lights flashing, clashing violently against the relentless dark.
Each second, his mind seemed to fracture more, bits of his sanity slipping away, yet he clung to that power, letting the maelstrom consume him piece by piece.
The chaotic mass of energy surrounding Ricky was both magnificent and terrifying, a destructive force barely held together by sheer will.
"You will die here, this struggle will be for not." Dracula intoned, gazing down at Ricky's bloodied, battered form, his voice echoing with cold certainty as the vampire lord's shadow loomed over him, certain of his victory.
"I've already died once, what's one more?" Ricky let out a strained laugh, blood dripping down his face as his teeth gleamed in a crazed grin while licking the black blood on his teeth.
In an instant, Dracula appeared behind him, the air slicing in his wake as he aimed to finish it with a precise, lethal strike.
But Ricky turned his head just enough to catch Dracula's gaze, his grin unbroken, eyes lit with a dark, unrelenting defiance that seemingly glimpsed into reality and the void.
WHOOSH
BOOM
Ricky twisted on his heel, the Ebony Blade arcing through the air with a ferocious slash, dark flames roaring from its edge.
Dracula darted aside with supernatural speed, but even his reflexes couldn't keep him untouched, the searing void flames licked across his side, leaving his fur singed and smoking.
Dracula hatefully clicked his tongue, leaping back to reassess as the black energy coiled tighter around Ricky, an ominous storm ready to break.
But Ricky was smiling, unlike his usual reckless and unrelenting one as his hollow, void-filled eyes saw it, he saw Dracula with an unsettling clarity.
"I saw it! I F*CKING SAW IT!" Ricky's voice tore through the air, each word dripping with madness as his fingers clawed at his face, widening his eyes like a deranged specter.
His laughter echoed, chilling and triumphant, as if savoring the thrill of seeing Dracula within striking range.
Dracula snarled, his fangs bared as he lunged forward, claws extended to rip Ricky apart. But before he could strike, a mass of black chains shot out from Ricky's spine, twisting and slithering through the air, snapping toward Dracula like a pack of hungry serpents.
He dodged the first, but when he tried to sever the chains, he felt the crushing weight of the abyss itself.
Dracula's eyes narrowed in shock as his strike merely glanced off one of the writhing tendrils, failing to break its grasp.
In that instant, the other chains seized their chance, lunging forward to wrap around his right arm, coiling tighter with each second.
Dracula struggled, his muscles straining as he fought against their vice-like hold, but the chains tightened, dragging him down as though the depths themselves were reaching up to consume him.
In a flash, Ricky was upon him, red energy crackling wildly from his body, every inch of him surging with power.
His blade swung down, black flames trailing in its wake as he struck with a force that echoed like thunder.
But Dracula reacted with unholy speed, catching Ricky's wrist mid-swing, halting the swing right at his nose hairs as their grips were now locked in a clash of monstrous strength that sent tremors through the ground beneath them.
But Ricky was relentless.
BAM
CRUNCH
Even as Dracula held him at bay, Ricky's head swung up in a brutal arc, before slamming his head into Dracula's nose with the force of a sledgehammer.
Black blood spewed down from his face, Dracula caught off guard by the brutal counter attack as his arm was suddenly yanked back.
'No, I can't dodge-
BOOM
In the blink of an eye, Dracula's arm was severed, suspended in mid-air as black droplets of blood floated around it, gleaming ominously.
Dracula's shock was palpable; he was supposed to be faster, stronger, an unbreakable force against Ricky's lesser might.
But the slash he had just witnessed defied all of that.
Ricky had adapted, forsaking his usual technique as instead of merely channeling his void flames along the edge, he detonated them within the blade itself, launching it forward with the force and speed of a lightning strike.
The strike had been a blinding flash, a black rocket propelled by raw fury and flame, making the Ebony Blade slice through the air with terrifying precision.
"Y-YOU INSECT!" Dracula roared, his eyes bloodshot as he clawed away the corroding flesh and staggered back.
But Ricky was relentless, his stance dropped low, a gleam of gold flickering in his eyes, fueling his void-clad form.
BOOM
Ricky shot forward like a bullet, his entire form engulfed in surging black flames as he glided over the torn up ground as if it were ice, closing the gap before Dracula's arm could even begin to regenerate.
Dracula braced himself, unyielding, his remaining arm swelling with dark power as he channeled raw magic into his veins.
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE!" Dracula screeched out, raising his arm for a crushing blow.
"BECAUSE A COCKROACH DOESN'T DIE THAT EASILY!" Ricky only grinned, his laughter echoing like a madman's battle cry.
Without hesitation, Ricky thrust his sword forward, unflinching in the face of Dracula's impending strike.
The Ebony Blade roared to life, its void-black flames swirling behind it with deadly intent as the two forces collided, each vying for dominance.
THOOM
The impact unleashed a deafening explosion, the air itself warping under the sheer force of their clash.
The energy condensed for a heartbeat, pulsing with a terrifying stillness, before erupting outward in a massive shockwave.
Dark energy ravaged the battlefield, ripping through the ground, turning it into an abyssal wasteland as if reality itself was being shredded by their power.
The air crackled with raw, uncontainable might, the residue of dark energies sparking and swirling as if drawn to the devastation they had caused.
In the heart of the devastation, amidst the ruins of their violent clash, two figures were thrown backwards by the force of their blows.
Ricky's feet skidded along the jagged ground, leaving deep gouges in the earth as he struggled to maintain his balance.
Black blood seeped from the puncture wounds in his stomach and chest, dripping steadily onto the cracked earth.
The eerie liquid stained his legs, pooling beneath him as his breath came in labored, rasping gasps.
His body was battered, and the weight of his eldritch state pressed heavily on him.
Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, the visible signs of damage a testament to the sheer brutality of their exchange.
Yet, beneath the carnage, something darker, something more primal stirred as his healing skill, a gift now intertwined with the very essence of his eldritch power, began to surge within him.
Shadowy tendrils crawled from the open wounds on his body, knitting together flesh, sealing the holes as the darkness of his power slowly pulled him back from the brink of destruction.
Thump
Ricky's heart, driven by the unrelenting force of his eldritch energy, pulsed with a dark rhythm, a beat of life that defied the damage done.
From his back, the chains that writhed like sentient serpents surged forward, siphoning the energy from Dracula's severed arm still entangled in their grip.
With each pulse, the chains absorbed the power, fueling his recovery, and with it, a new surge of strength began to seep into his limbs.
His wounds began to close, but there was a maddening hunger in his eyes, an abyssal void where once there was light.
Ricky's breath steadied as his body, though damaged, began to shift and reform, a cruel mockery of mortality.
"You're a nobody, how could you possess this power!" Dracula spat, his voice dripping with venom as he gripped his chest, where a massive slash marred his flesh.
The wound was still raw, and as his clawed hand tore at the exposed tissue, black veins pulsed ominously beneath his skin, spreading like a sinister infection.
The more he tried to rip away the decaying flesh, the more it clung to him, stubbornly refusing to fall away.
It was as though the eldritch essence from Ricky's attack had embedded itself into his very being, like a disease that had taken root deep within him.
The blackness seeped further, festering along the edges of the wound, warping the once-immaculate, powerful form of Dracula into something grotesque.
Even his arm, once so regally powerful, now twisted and contorted in an agonizing regeneration.
Muscle and bone were exposed, raw and trembling, as though the process of healing itself was in turmoil.
Skin and fur failed to regenerate, leaving behind a disfigured mess of exposed sinew and bone, the very essence of his strength disintegrating before him.
"You think I'm a nobody?" Ricky's voice dripped with amusement, his head tilting as that twisted smirk crept across his face. The air around him crackled with red energy, his aura pulsing with an almost predatory intensity. As he raised the Ebony Blade once more, the dark flames flickered and danced with fury.
"Then help me change that, Dracula!" Ricky's voice boomed, taunting and manic, as he charged forward with the ferocity of a beast unleashed.
Dracula's bat-like wings flapped hard, propelling him into the air with an almost inhuman speed and Ricky, too, shot upwards to meet him, his eyes blazing with murderous intent.
BAM
The two forces collided with a shockwave, the impact sending a ripple through the very air.
Ricky's smirk only widened as he stood face to face with Dracula, his body thrumming with the hunger for power.
"Once I've ripped your head off, everyone will know my name, and they will fear me!" Ricky roared, the words laced with unrestrained madness.
Before Dracula could react, Ricky's foot shot out, crashing into his abdomen with bone-shattering force.
The impact crushed through Dracula's defenses, but as Ricky's foot connected, Dracula's claws erupted from his fingers, five sharp talons sinking into Ricky's body, tearing into flesh with a sickening ripping sound.
BAM
The two were separated in an instant, both reeling from the brutal exchange.
Dracula staggered, clutching at the injury in his side, his claws coated in Ricky's blood and yet, as Dracula recovered, Ricky was already in motion.
Without hesitation, he flung the Ebony Blade forward, its dark edge slicing through the air like a missile.
Dracula's eyes flashed with recognition as he twisted his head, narrowly avoiding the blade's strike while a faint slash marked his cheek as the blade grazed him, drawing a thin line of blood.
His red eyes snapped back to Ricky, who had already begun to fly backward, unaffected by the wound he'd just received.
Ricky didn't care about the injury; his mind was consumed by one singular thought.
'Kill Dracula.'
Ricky's body ached, blood dripping from his wounds, but none of it mattered.
His existence had become secondary, a mere vessel for his relentless drive as every ounce of his being was focused on erasing the vampire before him.
There was no room for fear, no room for pain; just the bloodlust burning in his veins and the echo of his heartbeat, a steady reminder that he was alive, and he was going to make sure Dracula wasn't.
Ricky slammed into the wall, the impact shaking his bones as if they might snap, his body screaming in protest under the crushing force.
But his vision never wavered from Dracula, his eyes locked onto the vampire with a manic gleam.
Despite the agony, his grin only stretched wider, twisted and hungry, as if the pain itself was fuel to the inferno within him.
His body sunk deeper into the wall, cracks spider-webbing out from where he collided, but Ricky didn't care.
The grimoire, his constant companion, now finally floated beside him, its pages fluttering with an unnatural wind, but something had changed.
The book, once an ordinary tome, was now throbbed with a pulsating, eldritch energy that made the air around it vibrate with a palpable weight.
It no longer resembled the thing it had once been, no, it was far more than that now.
The Necronomicon of the Void had awakened.
Its pages, once simple and archaic, were now alive, filled with cryptic symbols that writhed and squirmed like the very fabric of reality itself was being distorted by the knowledge contained within.
Dark energies spiraled and coiled around the grimoire, drawing from the abyss, feeding Ricky's eldritch powers as if the book itself had become an extension of the whispering void itself.
As Ricky's fingers brushed against the Necronomicon of the Void, the air around him seemed to pulse, thick with an overwhelming darkness.
The blood pouring from his wounds, the black ichor that had once dripped helplessly to the ground, began to defy gravity.
It floated towards the open pages, twisting and writhing like living tendrils, drawn into the book with an insatiable hunger.
Void flames that had swirled menacingly around him now leapt toward the tome, dancing with an intensity that made the air vibrate.
The fire wasn't mere flame anymore; it was a manifestation of the abyss itself, alive with a malevolent energy, and it joined the blood in its inexorable pull toward the Necronomicon.
Each flicker and spark seemed to feed the black tendrils that snaked out from the book, their hungry coils wrapping around the essence of Ricky's very being.
The book's pages turned of their own accord, each one stained black, as if it had absorbed the very fabric of reality itself.
The more Ricky bled, the more the book seemed to grow, a dark page materializing with every drop of blood that was consumed, every burst of eldritch flame that was fed into its depths.
His blood no longer dripped to the ground but disappeared into the tome as though it was never meant to leave, its essence absorbed by the book in a frenzy of thirst.
A new page formed, one blacker than the deepest shadows, the runes and symbols etched upon it glowing with an unearthly light.
Each letter seemed to scream with a language that did not belong to the world Ricky knew, a forbidden tongue that reverberated through the very air, shaking the ground beneath him, yet he heard its whispers.
Dracula, watching from above, couldn't help but falter for a fraction of a second, his crimson eyes narrowing in disbelief.
This wasn't just a man standing before him anymore, this was something far darker, far more terrifying.
"You're an abomination," Dracula hissed, his voice dripping with venom, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.
The words were coated in irony, his gaze locked onto Ricky, who stood poised, as if ready to usher in the end of an era.
Ricky's lips curled into a smirk while his hands trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer exhilaration of what was to come.
Ricky could feel it, this moment had been building, the hunger in him, the Void, ready to devour all that stood in its path.
"And that abomination stands before you." Ricky's voice was laced with madness, tinged with a manic energy that twisted the air around him.
"Stronger than ever!" Ricky cackled out, completely sunken into his deranged state while the Necronomicon, now writhing in his grip, pulsed with an insatiable hunger, its pages whispering secrets that could unravel the very fabric of reality.
It was then, in the thick of the destruction, that the words from the Necromicon whispered toward Ricky; its voice a faint, serpentine hiss that seemed to slide through his very mind.
Without thinking, his mouth moved in unison with the book, each word leaving his lips like a chant born from the depths of hell itself.
"From the depths where silence screams, I call the tendrils, born of dreams. Through endless darkness, I seek the thread. By the Void's will, all paths are led." Ricky's voice rose a pitch, chanted in the whispering void's mother tongue, the words slipping from his mouth like a deadly chant, each syllable steeped in the language of nightmares.
"Tenebris threads." Ricky's soft tone quietly uttered the word of the spell, only for hundreds upon hundreds of tendrils as thin as threads spiral out of the Necrominoium.
Ricky whispered, the words barely audible yet carrying a weight that rattled the bones of anyone who could hear. The moment the spell left his lips, the air itself seemed to twist, and the first thread shot out, impossibly thin, impossibly sharp.
Then, like an awakening beast, hundreds upon hundreds of threads erupted from the Necronomicon, slithering and snapping in the air like living serpents.
They were black as night, each one vibrating with malevolent energy as the sound they made was unbearable, a screeching sound that twisted the very space between them, a terrible, inhuman wail that made the skin crawl.
It was as if the air itself screamed in agony, a perfect harmony of horror.
Dracula's bloodshot eyes widened as the ancient vampire, the once-untouchable creature, felt it; a pressure, a presence that made his instincts flare.
Dracula's body tensed, muscles coiling as he pushed off the ground in a blur of speed, soaring into the air like a shadow.
Dracula's wings snapped open with a sickening crack, a sound like the tearing of skin, revealing their vast, leathery expanse.
Each membrane pulsed with a grotesque, unnatural strength, veins and spots of fur.
With a powerful, violent flap, his body shot upwards, ascending into the air with the brutal elegance of a predator closing in on its prey.
Below him, the ground trembled as the tsunami of dark threads collided with the spot where he had just been.
The impact was catastrophic, like a hundred whips cracking at once, the very earth beneath them groaning in agony.
The threads weren't content with simply slicing the floor; they tore through the stone and concrete as if they were mere paper, shredding through the layers of the room with malevolent hunger.
With each inch they traveled, the air vibrated, screeching in protest like a thousand nails dragging across glass.
They didn't slow down, they didn't pause, and they tore through everything in their path, crashing into the walls with deafening force, leaving jagged scars where they passed.
The walls themselves seemed to recoil, shaking in terror, as though the building itself recognized the horror they carried.
The air around Dracula crackled with dread as the threads shot upwards, their blackened forms twisting and spiraling like serpents preparing to strike.
The very floor beneath him began to warp and writhe, veins of dark energy pulsing from the cracks in the stone.
Without hesitation, Dracula bolted into the air, wings beating furiously as he tried to escape the swarm of twisting, nightmarish tendrils clawing up toward him.
But just as he thought he'd pulled free from their reach, a dark blur crossed his vision.
Ricky appeared in front of him, fists clenched, his gauntlets brimming with eldritch energy that crackled and roared like the fury of a storm.
With a savage grin, Ricky's fist crashed into Dracula's cheek with the force of a battering ram.
The impact resonated with a sickening crunch as the bone shattered beneath Ricky's fist, sending a spray of black blood through the air as Dracula was hurled back down toward the writhing floor below.
The ground surged up to meet him, and he slammed into it with a thunderous impact that sent cracks spider-webbing out from where he landed, shattering the stone beneath his weight.
"N-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Dracula's scream tore through the air, raw and primal, as the threads tightened around him, yanking him toward the abyss like the merciless hands of fate.
Dracula's arms flailed, his magic surged desperately, but the tendrils only multiplied, coiling tighter, pulling him deeper.
Dracula's eyes, wide with terror, reflected the horrifying sight that suddenly appeared before his eyes.
Ricky stood in the midst of his pupils, floating in the air with an arm outstretched, dark blood dripping from his wounds like ink from a shattered pen as it dripped and fell towards the ground.
With a flick of his wrist, the ebony blade shot into his grip, and his smirk twisted into a savage, unhinged grin.
Rachael, on the sidelines, painted desperate symbols onto the ground, her hands trembling as her fingers traced ancient runes into the dirt.
When she looked up, she caught sight of something she'd never thought she'd see; true, unfiltered terror in Dracula's eyes.
It was a stark look of fear, one that bordered on desperation.
Dracula was throwing everything he had at Ricky; his claws, his magic, his strength and yet, Ricky barreled through the assault, each injury ignored, each blow shrugged off as if it were nothing but a scratch.
With every second, Ricky's presence grew more menacing as his attacks came in a brutal, merciless rhythm, his strikes carving into Dracula's flesh with the precision and savagery of a predator cornering its prey.
Dracula realized, within this mounting horror of a spell, that his strength had waned past the point of victory.
Dracula had once hoped to absorb Ricky's power, to consume him, but now he saw a force so dark, so twisted, that it felt like staring into the void itself.
Ricky's blood-soaked face split into a manic grin, his gaze empty of any care for his own life as he wanted only one thing, to see Dracula die within his hands.
And Dracula knew it.
Dracula tried to summon his power one last time, to unleash a final strike that would turn the tide, but his hands trembled, his body sagged under the weight of exhaustion, and his wounds continued to bleed out, weakening him with every passing moment.
The threads sank deeper, embedding themselves in his flesh like parasitic vines, feeding on his very essence, sapping his power.
For every bit of strength Dracula clawed back, the tendrils took twice as much.
"No-no-" Dracula choked out, his voice raw, barely more than a whimper.
Dracula's proud, unbreakable form had crumbled, and his mind spun in a sickening panic.
He could feel himself slipping, the abyss tugging him down as Ricky's chilling voice pierced his desperation, a harsh reminder that death was near.
"GET READY, DRACULA! THIS IS WHERE YOU F*CKING DIE!" Ricky's voice echoed with raw fury, a roar that was almost inhuman as his body ignited in twisted, eldritch flames.
His smirk twisted into a snarl as he launched himself at the vampire lord, his figure a streak of darkness and unholy fire.
"N-NO, I WILL NOT FALL!" Dracula's voice cracked as he roared, throwing his arms wide as he poured every last ounce of magic he could muster, forcing it into a desperate attempt to dispel the eldritch threads that gnawed at his soul.
His aura flared, a final blaze of crimson, his last stand against the encroaching darkness.
BOOM
"ARGH!" Dracula's roar echoed as he caught Ricky's blade with his bare hands, fingers torn and bleeding, yet he held firm.
Dracula's crimson eyes seethed with a desperation born of centuries as he stared down at the snarling, ravenous form before him.
"Y-YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE STRUGGLES I'VE WENT THROUGH FOR THIS MOMENT, THE ONE YOU'RE RUINING!" Dracula roared, his arm trembling with effort as the soles of his feet erupted in a violent burst of power, launching towards him in a desperate attempt to keep the sword from piercing his flesh.
"I'VE SACRIFICED EVERYTHING FOR THIS POWER, I WILL NOT LOSE THE ONLY THING I HAVE LEFT, I WILL NOT DIE!" Dracula roared out, releasing every ounce of strength left in him and sending Ricky's body reeling from the force of his rage.
BAM
Ricky staggered, momentarily winded by the brutal blow, but his eyes only gleamed with even greater malice.
"JUST SHUT UP AND F*CKING DIE ALREADY!" Ricky roared, his rage a living force as he brought his sword up in a brutal arc.
Dracula barely managed to evade, twisting his body at the last moment as the blade sliced through the air, emitting a high-pitched, eerie wail that seemed to reverberate in the very fabric of reality.
With a swift, unexpected motion, Dracula lunged, not at Ricky, but toward a nearby window.
In a way, they were reflections of each other; both Ricky and Dracula were bound by the chains of their own cowardice, though each faced his fears in his own realm.
Both men, in their own fashion, grappled with losses so profound that they shaped the very core of their existence.
For Ricky, these losses were achingly personal, rooted in a deep well of guilt and the failures of his life in the criminal underworld.
Ricky's bold, reckless exterior masked a man who, unable to face his emotional devastation, had retreated from reality, running from the responsibilities and pains that haunted him.
His coping mechanisms were self-destructive, driving him into a lonely spiral, away from any genuine confrontation with the pain that defined him.
Dracula, on the other hand, was a creature of myth and terror, his cowardice lurking in different shadows.
Dracula's relentless hunger for power had transformed immortality from a symbol of triumph to a cage of eternal suffering.
His deepest fear lay in becoming weak and mortal once more, vulnerable to the heartbreak and loss that had once shattered him.
This dread held him captive, fueling his obsession with control and feeding a paranoia that grew ever larger with each passing century.
The power he'd hoped would shield him instead entrapped him in isolation, his existence defined by the fear of ever again feeling fragile or defeated.
Yet, at this critical moment, their paths diverged. When faced with the possibility of complete failure, both were forced to confront their deepest fears but it was Ricky who took a step forward, realizing that if he fled now, he would never become the man he aspired to be.
Ricky was finally ready to risk his life and seize control of his fate, turning his back fully on any path that led to running away.
For the first time, he stood firm in the face of uncertainty, resolved to confront whatever lay ahead.
Ricky had completely turned his back on that cowardice that had once shackled him, facing forward with a newfound determination, ready to meet his fate whether in life or death.
But Dracula faltered.
The dread of death tightened around him, his years of psychological restraint and his need to always prevail holding him back.
Dracula couldn't bear the risk, the unknown outcome, the sheer chance that he might lose.
And so, he turned his back, bolting toward the window, fleeing from the terrifying uncertainty of death.
Perhaps if Dracula had let go of his need for invincibility and fought with everything he had, without fear restraining him, things might have turned out differently.
But in the end, fear won, and he ran, trapped by the very power he once sought to protect himself.
"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I AM DRACULA TEPES!" Dracula screamed, a hint of desperation cracking his voice as he drained every ounce of his life force just to stay ahead of Ricky.
"I DON'T GIVE A F*CK WHO YOU ARE!" Ricky finally roared, his words cutting through the tension like a blade.
Ricky launched himself at Dracula, tearing into him with a brutal fury, ripping his other arm clean off and carving deep into his leg.
BOOM
A violent explosion of black energy erupted around Dracula at that exact moment, his flesh disintegrating into the air as he sacrificed parts of himself for one more second's escape.
Without care, Dracula continued towards the window where Abraham had once leapt, his form a ragged blur of blood and smoke as he raced for his last chance at survival.
"RICKY!" Rachael's voice cut through the darkness, her hands slamming down on the ancient runes before her.
They glowed with a fierce, unnatural light, each symbol pulsing with her own life force as she invoked a forbidden technique.
Rachael was sacrificing her lifespan to call upon every ancestor trapped in purgatory, summoning their combined strength.
Each ancestor equaled a month of life, and Rachael called upon all one hundred and twenty of them.
Just as Dracula reached out to the shattered glass pane, ready to escape, he felt the crushing weight of the Van Helsing lineage descend upon him.
Ghostly hands emerged from the air, seizing him, locking him down, the very family he had condemned to an eternal limbo now holding him prisoner.
His eyes widened as he struggled against them, but his horror peaked when he saw Abraham's spectral form standing before him, a familiar, taunting smirk on his face.
However Abraham pointed above, where Ricky now hovered, power radiating from him in waves.
"DO IT NOW!" Rachael roared, her voice raw and fierce, her eyes fixed on the sight her family had yearned to see for generations.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Ricky's battle cry thundered through the air, his power surging to its peak, red energy crackling around him like a storm.
This was the moment everything had led to; all the heartache, all the suffering, and everything Ricky had been through, directly and indirectly, boiled down to this moment as Ricky thrust his blade forward, each motion fueled by rage and resolve.
In an instant, Dracula's eyes shrank with terror as his world was suddenly turned upside down in a single, decisive heartbeat.
WHOOSH
The sheer force of Ricky's strike tore through the room, cleaving it in half.
The aftermath swept outward, reducing everything in its path to smoldering embers, as though the very air had been shattered by his fury.
Plop
Dracula's head hit the floor, his expression frozen in shock and horror, the weight of his failure settling into his last moments.
The last sight flickering in his dimming eyes was his own body, slumped and lifeless on its knees and as his vision faded, one final, haunting thought echoed through his mind.
'I-I died?'
Slowly, his form crumbled, turning to ash as centuries of dread, ambition, and despair dissipated into nothingness.
HUFF
HUFF
HUFF
Rachael forced herself to her feet, taking in the awe-inspiring sight before her. For the first time since Dracula's curse began, the dark clouds shrouding his castle parted, allowing beams of light to pierce through. At the center of it all stood the spectral form of her first ancestor, Ragul Tepes, reaching out as if to guide them into freedom. The heavens slowly opened, and one by one, the souls trapped in purgatory, along with those Dracula had consumed, began to ascend, finally liberated.
Outside the castle, people gazed up in awe, witnessing the long-awaited ascension. Every Van Helsing who had fallen to Dracula's tyranny rose into the light, their faces marked by peaceful smiles, knowing their vengeance was fulfilled and their duty completed. But amid these souls, one figure drew near, stopping before Rachael and Ricky.
Radu, Rachael's legendary ancestor, smiled warmly as he looked upon his descendant while one lone figure stood in her vision.
Rachael, overwhelmed, sank to her knees in tears, reaching out to him as Abraham's expression held pride and tenderness, a silent acknowledgment of the strength she had summoned to bring this story to an end.
HIC
"G-Grandpa-"
Sniff
Sniff
"Rest now." Rachael's voice was soft, yet firm, carrying all the words she couldn't bring herself to say. Abraham let out a hearty chuckle, his eyes filled with a pride he'd never been able to express in life.
Abraham then turned to Ricky, who stood hunched over, his chest heaving, still gripped by the remnants of his berserk state.
His hollow gaze fixed upon Dracula's remains, now nothing more than a pile of ash scattered across the cold stone floor.
Abraham placed a steady hand on Ricky's shoulder, grounding him, guiding him back to the present for a mere moment.
Ricky hated Abraham.
The old man had always been a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of his failures, a figure who never hesitated to leave him in the dust.
Abraham was a piece of shit in Ricky's eyes; always one step ahead, always setting impossible standards.
But now, as Ricky stood in the aftermath of it all, he couldn't deny it even in his mindless state: when he had needed someone the most, Abraham had been there, to do what needed to be done.
"You did good, kid. You did good," Abraham's voice was low but full of warmth that not even Rachael had heard before, the words carrying a weight of approval that Ricky hadn't realized he needed to hear.
As the last syllable left his lips, Abraham's form began to lift, slowly ascending toward the heavens, his body finally at peace after centuries of strife.
As the last Van Helsing soul ascended, the heavens closed once more, leaving the battlefield in a somber stillness.
Those who looked on understood: Dracula's reign was over, and the centuries-old vendetta had, at last, come to its end.
"H-He did it?" Agatha gasped, her voice filled with disbelief as she raised her arm in awe.
"THE BLACK KNIGHT HAS VANQUISHED DRACULA!" The cry echoed through the battlefield, the tide of battle suddenly shifting in Ricky's favor.
Vampires all around him stood frozen in shock, their minds struggling to process the fall of their once-immortal overlord.
In the distance, Lilith watched the chaos unfold, her eyes narrowing as the vampires she commanded hesitated until she brought down her hand.
"Attack!" Lilith commanded coldly, and the vampires, previously loyal to Dracula, began turning on each other.
It was a scene of utter mayhem as the high-ranking vampires, their loyalty long-shaken by Dracula's reign, now saw an opportunity to seize power.
Of the nine still alive, five of them turned against the others, attacking with ruthless efficiency.
Among them, the infamous Baron and Baroness Blood were cut down in mere moments.
"YOU TRAITOR!" One of Dracula's loyal followers screamed, his voice filled with rage.
"The only traitor here is you!" Another vampire hissed, his face twisted with fury.
"Lilith is the rightful queen of the vampires!" Another joined in, her face gleaming under the sudden shift of power that aligned with her mistress.
Asterion stood to the side, utterly confused, his gaze flickering between the battle and the castle.
The sudden turn of events left him bewildered, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of what had just unfolded.
BAM
In an instant, Asterion lunged forward, his fists crashing into the group of vampires. His sheer strength overwhelmed them, cutting through their defenses like paper. Two vampires fell to the ground, lifeless, as the remaining three struggled to defend themselves, but it was too late. The battle was decided—Baron and Baroness Blood were all that remained of Dracula's once-feared inner circle.
"M-My love!" Baroness Blood gasped, her voice trembling as she tried to retreat with Baron Blood, her hand reaching out toward him in desperation.
But her escape was short-lived as the High-ranking vampires, quick to seize the opportunity, caught her before she could flee.
Baroness Blood's body was restrained, her arms held tight by the very vampires who had once followed Dracula's reign without question.
Baron Blood turned back, his eyes locking with hers as his face was expressionless, but there was a flicker of something.
Swirling within his red eyes, he saw the trust in her eyes, the love that had always been there between them and for a brief, aching moment, he saw her smile, a smile full of hope that he would come back for her.
But that smile faltered, and as he turned his back on her, the reflection of his betrayal struck her like a dagger.
"My love?" Baroness Blood whispered, her voice breaking as she was forced to the ground, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on her.
Two more high-ranking vampires held her down, their hands pressing into her flesh with the cold, unfeeling power of those who had made their choice.
However Baron Blood did not respond as his eyes stayed fixed forward, his expression unreadable, and his escape clean while vanishing into the distance.
"Your crimes will be put to trial-" The words echoed around Baroness Blood, but they fell on deaf ears.
They barely registered as she watched the departing figure of her love, Baron Blood, turning his back on her.
His silhouette grew smaller, fading into the distance, his footsteps leaving a hollow echo in her chest.
Her mind struggled to comprehend the betrayal, the finality of it.
The weight of his absence was suffocating, pressing down on her heart with an unbearable heaviness.
He was gone, leaving her behind with nothing but the bitter sting of abandonment.
The world around her blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall; not here, not in front of her captors, not when her world had shattered into pieces.
The high-ranking vampires, the ones who had turned on Dracula's faction, stood around her now, their gazes cold and impassive.
They waited for her reaction, but the fury she had once commanded seemed to drain from her, replaced by an emptiness that echoed Baron's absence.
BOOOM
A sudden, deafening roar tore through the air as a fire, unnatural and consuming, erupted from Dracula's castle.
The inferno spread like a living thing, twisting and snapping with a malevolent energy as if the very soul of the castle had caught flame.
The sky seemed to darken with the smoke, thick and suffocating, but through the haze, a figure could be seen standing tall amidst the flames.
Ricky, his eyes glowing with a fierce red light, stood at the heart of the eruption, the flames licking around him, as if obeying his every command.
The ashes of Dracula, his once-immortal form, were now being consumed in the flames, the last traces of his existence being furthered reduced to smoldering cinders.
"R-Ricky we won-"
BOOM
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ricky's laughter echoed through the ruins of Dracula's castle, a sound twisted and manic, born of both victory and madness.
Flames swirled around the smoldering remains of Dracula's ashes, casting a fiery glow that seemed to burn through the very air.
But it wasn't the destruction that caught Rachael's attention, it was Ricky.
Standing a few paces back, her heart clenched as she saw the true extent of what had become of him.
In the madness of his berserk state, Ricky was no longer the confident, cocky man she had once known.
His body, seemingly impervious to anything in his rage, had been pushed far beyond its limits.
Blood poured from every gaping wound while his ribs shattered, jutting through the remnants of his armor; his shin was ripped from his flesh, leaving behind a grotesque, bloody mess; and his entire form was coated in an eerie, void-like blackness that clung to him like a shroud of death.
Even in the flames, Ricky's body was falling apart, the once-impressive power now devouring him from the inside out.
"Ricky-"
BOOM
Rachael rushed toward Ricky, her heart pounding as she tried to stop him, but the moment she drew near, a massive explosion erupted from him.
The force of the blast sent her flying backward, her body crashing against the scorched stone walls of the castle with a sickening thud.
Her vision swam as she struggled to push herself up, the air thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burnt earth.
Ricky's attack had shattered everything around him, his berserk power tearing through the air in a violent frenzy as he sought to erase every trace of Dracula's existence from the floor.
Amid the chaos, Rachael could barely make out Ricky's silhouette, his body trembling under the strain of his own destructive power, consumed with nothing but the need to obliterate.
The burn mark on the floor, the only remnant of Dracula's presence, was now being smothered beneath the full force of Ricky's berserk rage.
It was as if the very earth itself was screaming in protest, but Ricky heard nothing.
He was beyond hearing, beyond caring as the only thing that mattered was his cleansing fire, and nothing, not even the woman who tried to reach him, could stop it.
Click
BOOM
Click
BOOM
Click
BOOM
The explosive sounds reverberated through the hall, echoing with destructive power, but amidst the chaos, a sharp, measured clicking of heels grew louder.
Lilith's presence cut through the tumult like a knife through silk as her elegant stride echoed in the broken silence as she stepped into the room, her gaze immediately locking onto Ricky's grotesque form.
She paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him; blood-soaked, his body battered and mangled, yet still burning with that volatile energy.
The flames danced around him, but there was no warmth in them, only a dark, sickening void that mirrored the destruction consuming him from within.
It was clear that Ricky was being consumed by his own rage, his own injuries as his form was breaking down with every passing second that the berserk power tore through his body.
Rachael's distress was palpable, her fear and worry evident in her wide eyes and trembling hands.
She wanted to reach out, to save him from himself, but the force of his destruction was too great.
Yet, as she looked at Lilith, expecting to see the same fear or perhaps some form of satisfaction in seeing his demise, she was met with something entirely different.
She was met with a smile.
"Lilith, Ricky has become out of control, we must stop him!" Rachael's voice was strained, panic rising in her chest as another explosive blast rattled the air, sending shockwaves through the room.
"We?" Lilith asked sweetly, tilting her head as a soft chuckle escaped her lips.
Pressing her fingers gently against her scarlet red lips, displaying that smile that was so unnervingly sweet, almost playful.
Rachael froze, her words faltering as Lilith's gaze locked onto her, a flicker of confusion flashing across her face.
"Yes, Ricky will die if we don't!" Rachael screamed, her voice raw with desperation, her eyes never leaving Ricky, whose destruction continued to unfold with a terrifying, unstoppable momentum.
Lilith's reaction was almost casual as she nodded slowly, almost approvingly, as she circled around the scene like a predator appraising its prey.
"That does seem to be the case," Lilith joyfully uttered, gazing at Ricky with a plan swirling within the depths of her crimson gaze.
"Then help me, please! We can save him-" Rachael's frustration bubbled over, her voice now shrill with urgency.
However, her remark was met with a pause, her eyes narrowing with an amusing glint that danced behind her gaze.
The soft rustle of her dark hair fluttered in the wake of another explosion, the wind brushing through it as if mirroring the tumultuous energy swirling around them.
Why would I help you, when I could help myself?" Lilith asked, her tone rich with mockery while turning back to Ricky's state.
The words hit Rachael like a slap to the face as she stood frozen, unable to comprehend the dissonance between what she had expected and what Lilith had just revealed.
Her mouth parted in stunned silence as she searched for something, anything, to say.
"It's a relief that this event played out as it did." Lilith said, her voice smooth, almost dismissive while scanning Ricky.
"I was worried he might reject my offer, but it seems that everything is already aligning for what I have planned." Lilith's eyes gleamed as she glanced toward Ricky, still thrashing in his uncontrollable frenzy.
"What offer? What are you even talking about? He's going to die!" Rachael's voice cracked with panic, her desperation seeping through.
Her gaze flickered between Ricky's berserk form and Lilith, barely registering the damage to her own body as she instinctively pressed a hand to her wounds.
Lilith's smile remained unnervingly sweet, and she gestured toward Ricky before turning the gesture to herself, her fingers tracing the air as if weaving a delicate web.
"Precisely." Lilith said, her voice a velvet purr.
"And when he does, I will revive him and claim him as my king, my partner, my equal to the new kingdom that will be built under the death of my father." Lilith glanced at Rachael, the words lingering in the air.
"W-Why?" Rachael's breath hitched out this question, confusion overtaking her for a moment before Lilith's next words sank in, each one more chilling than the last
"Of course, every queen needs a king," Lilith continued, her voice dripping with an unsettling calm.
"That's where my father failed. He thought he could do it all alone, but everything should be done in pairs. Power, control, it thrives that way." Lilith's words were laced with a dark wisdom, a bitterness rooted in history.
Lilith turned slightly, eyes narrowing as the sounds of Ricky's madness raged in the background.
"Although it's a little sudden, but it is not new for two powerful people to marry for the sake of maintaining power. It's a matter of survival. Strength is best welded together, after all." Lilith's mused, her gaze drifted back to Ricky, her expression a mix of calculation and restrained desire.
"You can't do that-" Rachael yelled, her voice cracking with desperation as she stumbled forward, her injured body collapsing to the ground.
Her hands scraped the cold stone beneath her, and she winced, struggling to push herself up.
Lilith, however, only rolled her eyes, an exaggerated sigh escaping her lips as she watched Rachael's futile attempt to rise.
"Of course I can, but I can understand your worries." Lilith lightly tapped her cheek, thoughtfully explaining even more while seemingly planning out their future in this ruined hall.
"I will use him, yes, but he'll be more than just a pawn. He'll be my equal. Together, we'll reshape this entire vampire faction. It's inevitable." Lilith assured Rachael, reflecting her helpless form while smiling at her despair.
"And no, he isn't exactly my type, but we play with the cards we're dealt, don't we?" Lilith lips curling into a slight, dismissive smile, as though contemplating the strange nature of fate.
"You are in no condition to fight me, nor are we both on the same level to currently subdue Ricky," Lilith said with a smooth, almost playful tone, her gaze sharpening as she stepped closer to Rachael.
"So let's skip the fight that you'll clearly lose and simply say goodbye to him. After all, I don't like to share." Lilith's words were cold, yet there was a teasing undercurrent to them as she winked at Rachael, the expression almost mockingly sweet, as if she were indulging in a trivial game.
Even though Rachael and Ricky had their differences, there was something undeniable that bound them together.
But at the end of the day, Ricky had given up everything to save her family in her eyes, and that sacrifice had meant more to her than she could ever express.
But now, as she watched him, lost in his berserk state, her heart shattered into pieces.
She stood helpless, the weight of her inability to stop him crushing her as Ricky had always been the one charging headfirst into danger, reckless and driven by an unrelenting need to fight.
But this time, the consequences were different and this time, his rage was consuming him in ways even his immense strength couldn't handle.
With every explosive outburst, he was pushing himself closer to the edge, and Rachael knew, knew with a deep, gut-wrenching certainty, that if he didn't stop soon, it would kill him.
"Asterion, my mistress has informed me of your connection to the Black Knight-" One of the vampires ventured, daring to approach the imposing figure cloaked in the mythic power of ancient Greece.
"I understand. Excuse me." Asterion raised a hand, his gaze fixed on the distant castle as he turned to continue his stride, but the vampire, emboldened, took another step forward.
"If you wouldn't mind staying here-"
"If you attempt to stop me, on the river styx." Asterion's gaze snapped toward the vampire, his eyes blazing with an ancient, unyielding fury.
"I will kill you all." Asterion vowed, his voice sharp as a blade.
A wave of terror rippled through the gathered vampires as Asterion's presence intensified, his true power beginning to radiate from him in a chilling surge.
"Do not confuse our bout as a real fight, I merely entertained you for my own amusement. The reason being is that I let Ricky face Dracula alone, thinking it might help him finally lay his past to rest. But if any of you so much as hinder me, you shall know the wrath of Asterion, Father of Minotaurs, and Berserker of All Monsters." Asterion's words were cold, crushing any lingering thoughts of resistance as they lowered their eyes, unwilling to meet the gaze of a being who had, in that moment, become something truly monstrous.
"Asterion, father of all Minotaurs, if I may ask if Ricky is alright-"
"I'll handle it." Asterion assured Agatha, his gaze steady and resolute as she looked on anxiously as he turned and strode towards the castle.
Without hesitation, Asterion approached the looming castle, tearing through the magical barrier surrounding Dracula's fortress as if it were nothing more than tissue.
Inside, he found Ricky, utterly consumed by his berserk state, his body battered but unrelenting as dark flames crackled around him.
"Asterion!" Both Rachael and Lilith called out, though their tones were worlds apart as Rachael's voice was thick with relief, while Lilith's held a mix of intrigue and calculation.
"Oh mighty Asterion, Father of Minotaurs." Lilith quickly composed herself and moved forward, her eyes alight with a sly smile.
"I have a proposal for you." Lilith's voice was sweet but edged with desperation, clearly hoping to sway him as he neared Ricky.
But Asterion's eyes never left Ricky, his attention fixed on the young warrior lost in a rage so potent it threatened to consume him whole.
"What is it?" Asterion asked, drawing closer to Ricky, his towering form casting a shadow over the young warrior.
"I will give you anything." Lilith slithered up to them, her gaze focused entirely on Ricky.
"All I ask in return is that I make the Black Knight, Ricky, into my mate." Lilith quickly proposed, trying to tempt a being that locked himself away with nothing for centuries.
"If Ricky chooses that path, then so be it, but he made a promise to show me the joys of this world, and I'd rather not betray his trust by making decisions for him." Asterion replied calmly, his brow barely lifted as he considered her words.
With that, Asterion stepped forward, his movements swift and calculated, and delivered a precise blow to the back of Ricky's neck.
The impact sent a jolt through Ricky's body, his wide, darkened eyes beginning to clear as the berserk fury that had gripped him slowly dissipated.
The ominous, ebony haze faded, and Ricky's labored breaths softened, his gaze focusing as he came back to himself.
"What the f*ck is happening-"
SLAP
Ricky's body collapsed, face smacking against the ground with a heavy thud, the exhaustion and pain finally overpowering his fading consciousness.
Asterion watched him for a moment, then reached down, lifting Ricky with ease and slinging him over his shoulder.
Turning away from the ruin and smoke, Asterion gave Lilith a final, steely glance before heading out of the castle.
"B-But if you would let me-"
"Little one, you are a mere speck in my eyes. Do not cross a line that you cannot even fathom turning back to." Asterion warned, his voice rumbling like distant thunder as his eyes burned crimson.
The black mist swirling in Lilith's hands faltered, her face paling as the weight of his words bore down on her, leaving her motionless in his shadow.
"Do you understand?" Asterion asked, his tone cold and unwavering as he raised his massive axe with his other hand.
Lilith, her confidence shattered, ducked her head in submission, her shoulders tense under his piercing gaze.
"I-I understand."
Author's Note: Just want to save thanks for 12k collections and all the support. Means alot and I'm glad everyone really enjoys my work.
My Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/LaughingFiend for advanced chaps
章節 105: Chapter 102: One Week Later
At this point, fighting to the brink of death had become almost routine for Ricky, and each time it left him bedridden.
Ricky was growing tired of it, of lying around, forced to feel every inch of his body painfully knit itself back together.
For the past week, he had done nothing but wait, his healing factor working overtime, patching up the torn muscles and fractured bones.
It was his saving grace, but even it wasn't a miracle cure as the damage he'd inflicted on himself was deep, and every agonizing moment of recovery served as a reminder of the punishment he'd put his body through.
Despite his desire to move, Ricky found himself drained and lost in a fog, his mind stretched thin.
Over the past three years, he hadn't allowed himself a single break, but now, after finally emerging from the chaos, Ricky felt like a new man, someone who deserved a chance to kick back and truly relax.
All his hard work, his suffering, and every grueling hour of training had finally culminated in this moment of victory.
Ricky knew his return to New York was inevitable and also knew there would be new battles to fight, struggles to face to secure everything that had once been stripped from him.
But for now, he allowed himself a rare moment of peace as he had achieved everything he'd set out to do when he first began his exile.
Not only had he earned a respected place within the church, rising to the station of the Black Knight, but he had also gained power beyond what he'd once dreamed possible.
Now, the only thing left was to go back and reclaim what he'd sacrificed.
But for now, though, Ricky would savor his victory, finally able to rest after all he had endured to reach this point.
"Darling?"
"W-Woah, when did you get here?" Ricky flinched, snapping back to reality as he realized Agatha was right beside him, gently brushing his hair back with a soft smile.
"A while." Agatha chuckled, evading a direct answer, her tone light and teasing.
Ricky sighed, sinking back into the pillows, surrendering to her calming touch.
Agatha had been stretched thin lately, handling the endless demands of the coven and the needs of their children.
Moments together like this were rare as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of her presence, letting himself drift, if only for a little while, under her familiar, soothing hand.
"I was worried about you, you know?" Agatha's voice was barely a whisper, each word laced with a tenderness that spoke volumes.
In those three years, her care for Ricky had deepened into something undeniable, and the weight of her concern was unmistakable in her soft tone.
Ricky opened his eyes, meeting hers, feeling a warmth beyond the healing comfort of her touch as he gave a faint smile, the exhaustion in his gaze softening.
"I know-"
"And those tonics, you cannot have anymore or it might end up killing you-"
"Agatha, I know." Ricky kissed her palm, the gesture soft but filled with a weight of understanding that only the two of them shared.
Agatha nodded, though her expression betrayed the worry that had been with her for so long.
"The only thing I'm really worried about is your smile falling." Ricky said with a sleazy grin, his voice lighthearted as he delivered the cheesy line.
Agatha couldn't help but laugh, her eyes lighting up with a happiness that seemed to fill the room.
"You're so stupid~" Agatah teased, shaking her head as she gazed at him. Her laughter was genuine, pure, and it reflected the relief she felt seeing him alive and, for once, not on the edge of death.
And in that moment, everything Ricky had fought for, everything he had sacrificed, seemed worth it while hearing that peaceful laughter.
"When do you plan on returning to New York?" Agatha asked tentatively, her voice laced with concern.
"You ruined our sexy moment-" Ricky teased, his playful tone lightening the mood.
"Darling, I'm serious." Agatha countered, shaking him gently, her eyes still filled with that mix of affection and worry.
"Alright, alright." Ricky held up his hand in mock surrender, showing a conceding with a grin.
"In a couple of days, after I fully heal up and stop by the Vatican." Ricky promptly explained, leaning back while putting his hands behind his head.
"Oh, another thing, I kind of promised to help break this weird bloodline spell so if you could also find some leads, that would just be great." Ricky suddenly dumped another problem onto Agatha who could only roll her eyes, shaking her head.
"Then I need to start preparing," Agatha said, rising from the bed with determination as Ricky's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a distressed look on his face.
"Wait, wait, what about our sexy time, my sugar, my reward, my happily ever after?" Ricky quickly asked, his voice playful but tinged with desperation.
Agatha paused, turning to him with an arched eyebrow and a hand placed firmly on her hip.
"Moving an entire city and coven doesn't happen in the snap of one's fingers, Ricky. It requires a lot of effort," she said, her tone lecturing but still soft and Ricky frowned, sinking back into the bed in exaggerated disappointment.
"You'll get your reward later, but right now I have to start the preparations." Agatha continued, waving her hand dismissively as she started toward the door.
"Agatha~"
"I love you too," Agatha winked, immediately freezing at the words that had slipped out before she could stop herself.
"Did you just say-"
"N-NO, I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!" Agatha stammered, her face turning bright red. She quickly crossed her arms, looking anywhere but at Ricky, who was now grinning at her reaction.
Ricky, still lounging lazily on the bed, raised an eyebrow while showing that sleazy smile at her own words.
"Really, cause it sounds like you said you-"
*BAM*
"Love me." Ricky's voice echoed in Agatha's mind, leaving a lingering warmth she couldn't shake.
Immediately, almost out of instinct, she had slammed the door shut, almost as if afraid he'd follow her, and now stood with her back pressed against it.
Turning around to stare at it, her forehead pressed into the cool surface, her breath ragged. 'What is happening to me?' Agatha wondered, her thoughts racing.
She had sacrificed so much for Ricky, given herself in ways she hadn't ever intended to.
But It had started as a means to protect her cult, to secure her position, to gain power, but now it felt different.
Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat a sharp reminder that something had shifted.
'Why did my heart skip when he said that, when I said that?' Agatha hadn't expected it, and certainly not to feel the weight of those three words like she did.
Shaking her head, she pushed off the door, her face flushed with heat, and quickly marched down the hall.
She couldn't be this vulnerable, not yet, not in front of Ricky, not in front of anyone
Agatha's steps quickened as she had made it clear that she wasn't about to give anything up for free, not unless he had a collar wrapped around his neck.
"Oh Agatha?" Ricky slowly opened the door with a slow smirk spreading across his face as he scanned the hallway.
"Agatha?" Ricky called out, his voice carrying a hint of genuine curiosity as he stepped to the door.
Ricky peered down the empty hallway, his brow furrowing when he saw that she had completely vanished as his frown deepened, a trace of confusion flickering across his face.
Ricky needed more time to recover fully; his healing factor had its limits, especially when dealing with the level of damage he'd sustained.
For example, his left leg had been completely shattered, the bones splintering into countless fragments that were deeply embedded within the surrounding muscle tissue.
Unlike superficial wounds or clean breaks that his body could mend relatively quickly, this injury was complex.
Each tiny shard of bone needed to realign, reconnect, and fuse back into place; a painstaking process that even his regenerative abilities struggled to handle.
The strain of the fight had driven these bone fragments deep into his flesh, creating pockets of damage that his body had to work through one by one.
His healing factor was like a team of surgeons working overtime, gradually knitting together shredded muscle, severed tendons, and fragmented bones.
But it wasn't magic; it required his body to draw on energy reserves, to rest and regenerate with every step forward.
And because he had pushed himself to his absolute limit, there was no shortcut.
The deeper, more internal injuries needed rest and careful movement if they were going to mend without complications.
"Asterion!" Ricky's voice echoed through the castle's stone corridors, the sound bouncing off the ancient walls, but Asterion was nowhere near to hear it.
As it happened, the towering minotaur had decided to indulge in a bit of sightseeing, immersing himself in the landscapes and peculiarities of Transylvania.
He'd been fascinated by the ancient architecture, the sprawling mountains under a perpetual mist, and the local tales whispered by the townsfolk as he strolled past.
After all, it wasn't every day that he found himself in the fabled land of vampires and folklore.
Asterion's curiosity had taken him to the outer edges of the castle grounds, where he could observe the twisted forests and darkened skies that lent Transylvania its mystique.
Even the eerie quietness of the place seemed intriguing to him; every shadow, every faint rustle in the trees, and the faint glimmer of light from distant villages stirred something in the ancient warrior's soul.
Meanwhile, Ricky limped along the castle halls, wondering just how far Asterion had gone.
"Alexander!"
"Garfield!"
Joining Asterion on his impromptu tour were two of Ricky's familiars: Garfield, who had initially been reluctant to leave his secluded space but eventually softened with the promise of extra snacks to indulge in, and Alexander, who, much like Asterion, felt the need for some fresh air after spending too much time cooped up in the castle.
As Ricky's berserk state faded, the duel link with Alexander broke, leaving him to collapse face-first onto the ground.
The sudden disconnection left Alexander disoriented, but unlike Ricky, his body had endured less trauma as his only real burden was overwhelming fatigue.
Limping through the empty corridors of the castle, Ricky gradually made his way down to the wine cellar, wandering around with a cane being the only thing to prop him up.
Ricky wore an uncomfortable expression as the silence of the place, once filled with echoes of clashes and shouts, now felt unsettling, amplifying his solitude.
Somehow, Ricky reached the cellar, he took a moment to survey the rows of bottles lining the walls, all neatly stacked and untouched.
Without a second thought, he grabbed one, twisted the cap off, and took a hearty gulp, only to immediately gag as the bitter taste hit his throat
"Ewwwww~" Ricky spat, tossing the bottle of O-positive blood aside with a grimace. He wiped his mouth, utterly revolted.
*Sigh*
"I should've expected this." Ricky muttered, shaking his head in resignation as he glanced around, noting the meticulous rows of bottles, each labeled with a blood type.
With a sigh, he ventured deeper into the cellar, hoping that amidst the sea of vintage blood bottles, he might find at least one actual wine stashed away.
As he walked, he couldn't help but feel the eerie silence pressing in, every soft step echoing through the vast stone chamber.
"Oh come on-" Ricky muttered to himself, rummaging around Dracula's blood cellar until he accidentally bumped on a lamp, revealing a hidden door that started to open.
*Click*
"Please be a secret booze room," Ricky muttered, crossing his heart as he pulled open the hidden door and stepped inside.
But instead of a stash of fine spirits, he found something wholly unexpected, a glimpse into Dracula's long-forgotten humanity.
"What the." Ricky thought out loud, eyes widening as they adjusted to the dim, reverent glow of the space.
The walls were lined with portraits, each capturing tender scenes of a woman and a child, painted with remarkable care.
The soft, muted light brought out the delicate brushstrokes, highlighting expressions of joy, sorrow, and longing on their faces.
It was an intimate glimpse, not of the infamous vampire lord, but of someone capable of love and grief, Vlad Tepes.
As he ventured further into the room, Ricky's steps slowed, his gaze traveling over relics that seemed frozen in time.
The small trinkets scattered on a nearby desk; a locket, a faded ribbon, a child's hand-carved toy and all seemed to belong to an era long gone.
Each item was preserved with such careful reverence, as if Dracula himself couldn't bear to part with these echoes of a past life.
Curious, Ricky reached for a weathered leather diary on the desk, its cover cracked from age.
Opening it, he skimmed the handwritten entries, the delicate script brimming with a vulnerability he would never have expected.
There was an undeniable depth to the words; a fierce, unyielding love tinged with aching regret.
Diary Entry: Elizabeth Bathory
In this year of our bastard Lord, 1606, I, Dracula, did encounter a most curious and formidable relation, Elizabeth Bathory, now infamously known as the Blood Countess. Her curious custom of bathing in the blood of virgins to halt the ravages of time not only kept her youthful visage but also granted her an uncanny resistance to my dominion. Her dark practices nearly ensnared me in her sanguine web. Yet, through perseverance and the strength of my own ancient powers, I eventually gained the upper hand and slew her. However her way of using the blood of the innocents will be furthered under my own eyes to better its potential.
-Dracula
"Hm, I thought people only kept diaries in movies or stories," Ricky muttered to himself, flipping through the pages with mild curiosity.
The entries seemed to start innocently enough, recounting what must have been the writer's first encounters with Dracula.
They detailed small moments, glances shared, conversations held in the quiet of evening.
But as he delved deeper, the writing took on a new tone, evolving into something deeper, almost confessional.
Diary Entry 1: Vlad Tepes
In this year of our Lord, 1444, my heart was shattered by an unbearable tragedy. The cruel hand of fate snatched away my beloved wife and our infant son, leaving a void in my soul that no words can convey.
Their deaths were not a mere passing; they were a violent severing of my very essence, a wound that bled with the relentless torment of loss.
The cries of my wife still echo in my ears, her desperate pleas for mercy met with cold indifference.
Our son, innocent and pure, was taken before he even had a chance to live. I remember holding their lifeless bodies, feeling their warmth fade away, and knowing that I was powerless to stop it.
The anguish was so intense it felt as if the very marrow of my bones was being stripped away.
In the depths of that despair, as I knelt before their graves, I made a vow.
The love and humanity that once defined me were buried with them. I swore to cast aside any remnants of my former self, to embrace a path of darkness and unyielding power.
I would become a creature of the night, forsaking my mortal soul to gain the strength needed to protect all that I held dear and to exact vengeance upon those who had wrought this suffering upon me.
From this moment forward, I relinquished any claim to the light. Compassion, mercy, and kindness became foreign concepts, replaced by a singular drive for power and retribution.
My transformation was not a choice but a necessity, born from the depths of my anguish. I vow that never again will I be helpless, never again would those I loved suffer because of my weakness. I would become an indomitable force, a guardian of the shadows, ensuring that such pain would never touch me again.
Thus, I embraced the darkness within, forsaking my humanity, and began my ascent to become the creature feared by all, known to only as not the loving father and husband, but Dracula.
-Dracula
The deeper Ricky read, the more his once amused smile faded, replaced by a frown as the weight of the words began to settle.
Although Dracula had chosen a far darker path, Ricky couldn't bring himself to despise the man's drive.
Ricky could curse out Dracula for beating him to a pulp, but he understood the core motivation, the same one that pushed him forward every day: the desire to protect those he cared about and do whatever fit with his own narration.
In the end, their journeys weren't so different, only this time one ended while the other strove forward.
"Dammit." Ricky muttered under his breath, frustration simmering beneath his words.
Ricky tossed the diary aside, into his inventory space, its pages fluttering before it landed.
Ricky's eyes scanned the shadows, catching the faint glimmer of an old, dusty bottle on a nearby shelf.
He reached for it, brushing away layers of dust, his fingers tracing the label before lifting it to his nose.
The scent was familiar, something stronger than any wine he'd ever tasted as that realization brought a smile to his face.
"Finally." Ricky fist pumped, uncorking the bottle and taking a swig.
*Sigh*
"Holy sh*t, that's good stuff." Ricky let out a refreshed sigh, supported almost while looking at the bottle and taking another swig.
"The guy was d*ck, but he sure knew his wine." Ricky mused, observing the hidden room while enjoying the bottle.
"I wonder if these paintings are valuable-"
*Sigh*
"What am I thinking, of course I'm stealing Dracula's stuff." Ricky let out a small laugh, shaking his head as if it was obvious before literally putting everything residing in this room into his storage space.
As Ricky walked out of the hidden room, the cool, ancient stone of the castle walls brushing against his skin, he took another swig of the old wine.
The bitter taste lingered in his mouth, but for some reason, it felt fitting. He paused for a moment, looking around with fresh eyes.
The grandeur of the castle, which had once seemed so irrelevant, now captivated him.
The intricate carvings on the wooden beams, the faded tapestries hanging on the walls, and the glimmering chandeliers above, and all details he had once overlooked.
"Wow, this place rules."
Meanwhile in the destroyed throne room,
Lilith's eyes narrowed, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest of her new throne as the weight of the situation settled in her chest, but she remained still, her gaze piercing.
"How bad is the split?" Lilith asked again, her voice smooth but laced with an edge yet was calm, but the undercurrent of her fury was unmistakable.
"It is not good, Your Majesty." One of the high-ranking vampires replied, bowing his head slightly in respect.
"Verdelt has done as promised and fractured the faction. The loyalty of several key members has wavered, and they've taken sides. Some are already considering joining the opposing faction." The high-ranking vampire continued, trying to word it best as to not incite her fury.
Shortly after Ricky lost consciousness, Veredelt approached Lilith, his dark presence looming over her as he extended a proposal that shook her to the core, marriage.
He suggested they unite the vampire race under their rule, a proposition that would secure his power and, by extension, hers.
But Lilith rejected him, not because she found him unsuitable as a mate, but because she knew better than to allow herself to be used once more.
She had been a pawn in Dracula's game, and the last thing she wanted was to fall into the same trap again with another manipulative alliance disguised as something more meaningful.
Her refusal, however, had consequences as Veredelt, despite his reclusive nature, was a well-respected figure within the supernatural world.
His influence extended far beyond his quiet demeanor, and his stature among the vampire elite was undeniable.
Rejection of such an offer was not taken lightly by her followers.
Her faction, already dwindling from recent losses, fractured further as three of her five high-ranking vampires, those who had once pledged loyalty to her cause, abandoned her, drawn to Veredelt's power and promise of unity.
They had joined Lilith because they believed in her vision of advancing the vampire race, of building something greater.
But now, after her refusal, they saw only a self-serving leader, one more interested in personal ambition than the greater good of their kind.
The seeds of doubt had been planted, and her faction crumbled as more loyalists turned their backs on her, seeking refuge in Veredelt's growing influence.
Lilith's rejection of Veredelt had cost her more than just an alliance, it had cost her the trust of those closest to her.
And as the remains of her faction slipped away, she was left to confront the harsh reality: in this world of shifting allegiances, she was once again standing alone.
"Is the baroness still in the dungeon?" Lilith's voice was sharp, her sudden rise from her chair catching her subordinates off guard.
They exchanged quick, surprised glances, unsure of how to respond to the unexpected question.
"Your majesty you must not-"
"Enough, take me to her."
Meanwhile in the dungeon,
Baroness Blood's eyes fluttered open, her once-proud figure now slumped, her body sagging beneath the weight of the silver chains that bound her.
The cold, unforgiving metal dug into her skin, the pain almost a comfort compared to the searing emptiness inside her.
Only a week of isolation had taken its toll on Baroness Blood, but it wasn't the physical agony of the chains that had drained her, it was the betrayal.
The betrayal of her love, the one who had once promised to stand by her side, had hollowed her out completely.
*Click*
*Click*
The sound of heels striking the stone floor cut through the silence of the dungeon, sharp and deliberate.
It was a sound that could freeze the blood of even the most seasoned, a signal that something important was approaching.
With a pained groan, the Baroness weakly lifted her head, her gaze dull and lifeless, just as Lilith stepped into her line of sight.
The vampire queen's presence was commanding, her silhouette framed by the dim, flickering torchlight that cast long shadows across the walls.
Beside Lilith stood her two most loyal subordinates, Bonnie and Clyde; twin enforcers known for their ruthless efficiency and they flanked her, silent and imposing, their eyes fixed forward.
"Have you finally come to kill me?" Baroness Blood's voice was barely a whisper, cracked and brittle as it filled the dungeon air.
She lifted her hollow eyes to meet Lilith's, finding only a steely resolve in her gaze.
Lilith paused, her eyes tracing over the broken form of the once-powerful ally of her father, now reduced to a shell of her former self.
"I'm here to offer you a chance at retribution." Lilith said, each word carrying weight and purpose.
"The question is, will you take it?" Lilith mused, watching the powerful vampiress in such a pitiful state.
Baroness Blood's eyes flickered with the faintest trace of emotion, a sliver of hope or perhaps defiance, as she considered the offer.
But the fire quickly faded, and she lowered her head, the shadows reclaiming her face.
"When you've made your decision, call for me." Lilith let the offer simmer in her mind, her voice cool and unwavering.
With that, Lilith turned away, issuing orders to her subordinates while Bonnie and Clyde listened intently, their postures sharp and obedient as Lilith outlined her plan.
They each had roles to fulfill, missions to carry out, as Lilith prepared to attend to her own tasks with precision.
She left the dungeon with the certainty that Baroness Blood's decision, whatever it would be, would soon follow.
The echoes of her steps faded, leaving the Baroness alone once more, surrounded by shadows and the remnants of her choices.
Lilith's ambition to take over Dracula's faction had been bold, but ultimately naïve.
She'd overestimated her influence, misjudging her standing in the supernatural world.
Unlike Veredelt, who commanded deep respect and a formidable reputation, Lilith had yet to prove herself, and her faction was fracturing under the weight of her untested leadership.
Allies slipped through her fingers as loyalty wavered, her authority slowly crumbling.
Desperate, she'd sought support from Asterion and Rachale, only to face blunt refusals from both and each rejection left her increasingly isolated, narrowing her options until only one remained.
Meanwhile, Ricky strolled into the throne room, casually swigging from a dusty bottle of wine.
He traced his fingers along the rough edges of the shattered stone, each step taking him deeper into the memory of his narrow brush with death.
His fingertips brushed against the charred sections of wall, reminders of the fierce clash he'd barely survived.
*PISSSSSSSSSSS*
Ricky undid his pants, taking a long, irreverent piss on the very spot where Dracula had fallen, pouring a generous splash of wine over it as well and with a smirk, he lifted the bottle in a toast.
"This one's for you, Abraham." Ricky muttered, a rough appreciation for the legendary vampire hunter surfacing in his own unconventional way.
"Hope you're out there farming in Nebraska heaven." Ricky laughed out, before it slowly simmered out completely.
Though their relationship was more of a twisted alliance than a friendship, with Abraham frequently leaving him high and dry only to show up when things got critical, Ricky knew he owed him.
Without Abraham's last-minute intervention, he might not have been here now, standing victorious and pissing on Dracula's grave.
After finishing his unceremonious toast, he pulled up his pants and took another swig of wine, savoring the strange sense of victory.
Strolling back to his room, he cast a glance at the Ebony Blade, propped up against the wall.
"Hey, you can hear me right?" Ricky asked, plopping on the bed while sipping on the bottle.
'I can, I was merely quiet in order to let you rest but it seems you've started your-.........recovery.' The Ebony Blade sounded in his head, knowing how much he enjoyed what those humans called 'alcohol'.
"Listen." Ricky muttered, pointing the bottle at the blade with a half-smile.
"When you've got bone fragments lodged so deep in your legs you're practically stuck in bed, then you can tell me how much you need a drink." Ricky gestured, a splash of wine dribbled out, staining his white tank top, which only added to his slightly disheveled look.
Silence settled over the room after that, with Ricky absently scratching at the rough stubble on his jawline.
He hadn't exactly had the luxury, or the energy, to worry about shaving lately, his body too busy mending itself to care much for appearances.
"Hey-"
"Hey-"
They both spoke at once, each trying to get a word in, only to stop and fall into an awkward silence.
"Alright, let me just get this out," Ricky sighed, rubbing his forehead as if the weight of the moment made it ache.
He hated these kinds of talks, anything that required peeling back even a hint of vulnerability, but he figured he owed the sword some form of apology.
"Look." Ricky began, pausing before he continued.
"Although you f*cked with my mind, I know I've been an ignorant ass. I didn't get it before and I didn't understand that messing with my head was just the way of letting me tap into your full power." Ricky let out a weary sigh, tipping the bottle back for a long drink, his other hand covering his eyes as if it would help him dodge the embarrassment crawling over him.
"I just really hate the idea of anyone poking around in my head, f*cking with my thoughts." Ricky muttered, his eyes slowly turning towards the side.
"But you didn't deserve a lot of that bullsh*t on my part. You're bound to me, no say in it, and that's on me." Ricky offered the awkward apology, glancing at the Ebony Blade, and somehow, he knew the blade understood perfectly.
"...." The Ebony Blade remained silent, absorbing the weight of Ricky's words.
For the first time in its long existence, a descendant of Percival; a human, no less, had apologized, openly admitting fault rather than placing blame on itself.
None of Percival's descendants had ever acknowledged the consequences of wielding its power, let alone offered any remorse.
This moment, brief yet profound, left the ancient blade in a rare state of reflection and let it have a real conversation in a human that was Ricky.
'No, it is I who has judged you too harshly, Ser Ricky.' The Ebony Blade responded, its voice carrying an unexpected tone of humility and respect.
Hearing himself addressed as a knight made Ricky raise an eyebrow, tilting his head with a mix of confusion and curiosity but let the sword continue.
'I am also to blame for judging you too soon. My age is incomparable to yours, yet I acted as a child,' the Ebony Blade continued, its voice laced with a rare vulnerability.
The blade seemed to acknowledge its own shortcomings, as if aware of the paradox within itself.
Despite its centuries of existence, it had allowed emotions, perhaps even pride, to cloud its judgment, making it as impulsive and raw as a young warrior.
It felt almost foolish now, recognizing that wisdom was not just about age but about understanding the complexities of those it was bound to.
"Here, here." Ricky raised a toast to the blade, downing another swig in medieval knight fashion.
'I can see that from your view.' The Ebony Blade continued, its voice softening, a hint of understanding settling in.
'Having your mind ripped apart and the constant urge to kill can truly be a devastating reality. I understand now.' The sword paused, as if reflecting on Ricky's turmoil as it felt relief for what seemed like in the first time at someone trying to understand, truly understand it without a preconceived bias.
"So, what's your story, and what are you even made of?" Ricky asked, rolling over onto his belly and stretching lazily across the bed, pointing the bottle toward the sword.
'Do you truly wish to know the whole story?' The Ebony Blade's voice carried a faint, almost wistful tone.
'It isn't exactly an exciting one.' The Ebony Blade uttered, its tone clearly betraying its words since it seemed almost excited to tell someone.
"Eh, why not?" Ricky glanced over at the door, then shrugged nonchalantly.
*Ahem*
'Long ago-'
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