“It seems that I am too late,” A young man said in disappointment.

In the heart of an open grass plain, a lone man stands on a dirt road, his eyes surveying the aftermath of a long-forgotten battle. Half-charred grass speckles the emerald expanse, leading to an ash-laden scar that extends towards a brutally cleaved mountain. The air clings heavily with the sharp scent of charred earth; even the taste of the breeze on his tongue carries the acrid reminder of bitter war ashes. A chilling silence remains, broken only by the wind's hushed whispers.

Under a blazing sun, the man explores the remnants of destruction, driven not by curiosity but by an unseen force. A residual magic, potent and ominous, hums in the air, its dread-inducing pull impossible to ignore. Even amidst the warmth of daylight, the chill of this ancient power is palpable.

The young man, of an age akin to a college student, stands above average height, his bright blue eyes alight with curiosity. His light blonde hair, caressed by a gentle breeze, frames a handsome face that draws admiring glances. A small, intriguing black dot rests on his left cheek, adding an element of mystery to his attractive features. He wears a white robe, etched with intricate gold lines in a grid-like pattern, which lends him an air of regality.

A striking golden necklace, showcasing a prominent blue gem at its center, rests against his chest—an unmistakable symbol of his status and power. His light skin and the tranquil aura around him suggest a life of privilege, one possibly tied to a family with divine influence. In his firm grasp, a heavy white staff stands as tall as him. Crowned with a golden gem, twice as large as the one nestled in his necklace, the staff pulsates with an otherworldly radiance, as if perpetually imbued with a stream of mana.

When the young man pivots to his left, his gaze trails along the scorched path leading to the distant mountain. With a sigh, he says, “How unfortunate. I thought things couldn’t get any worse. But I had to test my luck, and now look at this.”

"Life is an unpredictable road, Lord Wilbur. Given the course of current events, it's to be expected that a powerful individual will appear," says an old butler standing beside him.

The seasoned butler is a figure of quiet elegance in an obsidian-hued suit, expertly tailored to his lean frame. A charcoal-gray vest, fastened with silver buttons, is worn over a crisp white shirt. A thin, black cravat adds a touch of formality, while straight-cut trousers end in polished black boots.

A practical leather belt encircles his waist, from which a silver keychain dangles. Silky gloves fit like a second skin over his hands, their midnight shade subtly gleaming in the light. Lastly, a short black cloak rests on his shoulders, fastened with a single silver brooch, reflecting the butler's unwavering dedication to his duty.

There isn't much to say about the elder's looks, other than he has a face that could have charmed many women in his prime, and his entirely white hair is tied back in a ponytail. He still looks young enough to be called "middle-aged," but his actual age would suggest otherwise.

The man, named Wilbur, turns to the butler. "Of course, but the last thing I expected was the one and only White Death. A being known in many historical books as an enemy of all things. A true monster that even the divine fairies fear. As much as the unexpected is to be expected, we can't ignore things like this, Sir Tailer."

After finishing his sentence, Wilbur turns back towards the mountain and grimaces. "Upon the Oracle's first ringed bell, a sage of boundless vision shall dwell."

Wilbur can only think of bad news whenever he contemplates the White Death. He has studied the entity's past, but found barely any material about him. The only records that exist are notes explaining the potent and malevolent being known as the White Death. They portray him as a being of pure hatred and power, who alone is the cause of the Fallen Age.

Yet, there is other information that contradicts this. One such piece of information comes from a book authored by the Oracle, who lived concurrently with the White Death.

The book suggests that the final clash between the forces of light and dark caused the major wars, famine, and death. However, many other books contradict the Oracle’s tome, discussing significant events that happened in specific cities.

“There are too many contradictions,” Wilbur whispers to himself. “No matter how deeply I delve into the Fallen Age, I always get sent back to the start. It's as if the gods are preventing me from finding the answer, but why?”

“Well, well, well, Wilbur Goldlight. And here I thought I wouldn’t see your face again for several pantheon cycles,” a young man says.

Wilbur sighs and turns to face a unique individual accompanied by a servant. “Alucard von Dracula.”

Wilbur finds himself face-to-face with one of his collaborators, who is, in fact, a vampire.

Alucard smiles. “I see you’ve come to inspect this incident too? No surprise, really. Especially since the individual in question is the White Death himself.”

Alucard is a figure of quiet refinement in a rich maroon velvet suit, tailored to fit his slender physique. Beneath the suit, a high-collared, ivory-ruffled shirt and silver brocade waistcoat add a touch of extravagance. Black leather gloves entirely cover his hands, while a long black overcoat with a generous hood serves as his shield against the sun's rays.

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High black boots, polished to a shine, encase his legs up to his calves. A wide-brimmed hat atop his head ensures his face stays within its protective shadow. Every element of his attire is a nod to his aristocratic status and a testament to his meticulous attention to self-preservation.

To top it all off, Alucard has shiny, long, blonde hair that reaches his shoulders and a face of charm similar to Wilbur’s, albeit a different kind of charm. It exudes a more sly, alluring quality.

“I see that you're wrapped head-to-toe in clothing, as usual, Alucard,” Wilbur responds.

“You do know I am a vampire, yes? I dress this way so I don’t deplete too much of my mana protecting myself from the sun. I'd prefer lighter attire, in all honesty,” Alucard retorts, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

Standing next to Alucard is his own butler, who bows to Wilbur. The young boy wears clothing similar to Tailer's, with the only exceptions being a silvery necklace with a pendant around his neck and a standard iron sword housed in its leather sheath.

With his boots, the boy's head just reaches Wilbur's shoulder. He has blue hair, ocean-blue eyes, and a face that, like the rest, possesses its own unique charm — a certain purity.

“The Blue Disaster, Sebastian Lionheart,” is all Wilbur can say as he finds himself face to face with the extraordinary being. He still feels uneasy standing next to Sebastian, no matter how often they meet.

It's understandable why Wilbur would feel uneasy. Sebastian is known to be this generation's White Death. He has already killed multiple God Named.

Alucard lightly coughs, “Haven't we agreed not to use our God Names? Right, Wilbur, the Golden Light?”

“As Tailer Esther, the Gray Ash, I couldn't agree more, Lord Alucard,” Tailer replies with a mild smile.

After briefly glancing at Tailer, Alucard turns to Wilbur. “Well, enough pleasantries. Have you found anything noteworthy, Wilbur?”

“Unfortunately, no, I haven't. No matter how hard I try, I can't identify the cause of the strange occurrences. Whoever is causing the citizens to harbor twisted thoughts and beliefs can't be of this world. Currently, the citizens of Harmona are being affected by this force. Now they believe demi-humans are demons, even though we both know otherwise.”

Alucard narrows his eyes as he processes this information, “Strange, indeed. Of all the types of dark elements, I've never heard of this before. Hypnosis is the closest comparison I can think of, but the behaviors you've described negate that theory. Hypnosis does alter thoughts, but the effects soon wear off. It's been multiple god months, and people still show similar symptoms. Not only that, the sensations these effects produce… it's as if they're utilizing a different method. It isn't relying on mana but something else entirely. Madness? Insanity? I can't decipher it.”

Wilbur also narrows his eyes, “It seems we're both at dead ends. Well, that's to be expected since whoever is causing this appears both intelligent and powerful. We'll discuss this further later. For now,” Wilbur turns towards the mountain, “it seems we have bigger problems.”

“The White Death? Do you think he might be connected to these incidents?”

“No, I don’t. I have reasons for these thoughts, but I believe the White Death is another puzzle piece. As foolish as it sounds, I want to speak to him.”

“Indeed, the idea does sound foolish. Why would you want to speak to him? I doubt he would listen to you, seeing how the White Death hates humans and demons alike.”

“I wish to understand what happened in the Fallen Age. Many major events occurred then, but for some reason, there's scant information about that era. Many commoners are aware of the stories and the White Death, but they don't know who the White Death truly is.”

“I see,” Alucard responds. All four of them stare at the now-destroyed mountain, a testament to the White Death's power. A moment of silence passes until Alucard poses a question, “Sebastian, what do you make of this? Do you believe you can defeat the White Death?”

Sebastian, in deep thought, responds, “With the power exhibited here, I could easily overpower him. However, this is the White Death himself. Someone who caused the downfall of both human and demon nations. He might have held back during his battle. And even if this is the full extent of his power, his battle experience far surpasses mine. Additionally, his control of mana is beyond mortal comprehension. He could simply pace himself and exhaust me during battle, resulting in my defeat. Despite my desire to believe I could overcome him, it is logically impossible for me to confront him alone. That's my opinion, bearing in mind the records of the White Death.”

“Indeed, well considered, Sebastian,” Alucard smiles at his response and continues to gaze at the mountain.

“That reminds me,” Wilbur interjects and sighs, “the adversary the White Death fought happened to be one of our major leads in this entity investigation. I thought I had finally made a breakthrough until the White Death reduced him to dust.”

Alucard chuckles at this, “Ahh, it seems the White Death is a step ahead of us regarding this entity, isn't he?”

“...It would appear so. Have there been any changes in the Demon Empire? Has this entity started influencing more demons?”

“Not that I've heard of. This being seems more interested in the human kingdom than the demon empire. However, I can't deny that some demons are showing signs of being influenced. There are already some vampires who are behaving oddly. My dear sister is currently hunting down more of them.”

“It seems like the human kingdom is the one most affected. I will continue my investigation back at Aetherna. The villages surrounding Harmona are already under its influence, and I can't find a way to stop it. I can only hope that the Goddess of Kindness's divine influence can somehow maintain peace among her believers.”

Tailer concurs, “Indeed, especially since the White Death lurks within these areas. Let's hope that the villages near Harmona will be spared.”

Alucard narrows his eyes once again while gazing at the mountain, “The White Death, a being even the divine fear,” Alucard turns away from the group and starts walking away, “I should be leaving now. Leaving my castle unattended would be unwise.” Sebastian trails behind him as they depart.

“Alucard,” Wilbur calls out, “what are you thinking at the moment?”

Alucard turns around and grins, “Just pondering what the White Death will do next.”