The Capital City of Broica was simply called ‘the Capital’ by most, but its official name was Nerea. Broica itself was located to the southeast of Austria, where the region of Styria laid. It did not span its entirety, but simply half of it —the side that bordered Slovenia. And at its very heart along the ley lines existed the city of Nerea, along the shores of the River Mur. It was a humble city with not many landmarks, yet its airports are known to be full at most times for reasons unknown. Said reason, of course, is not unknown to the denizens of the Undercity, the New York of the Children of the Night. If there existed a mythical creature, then one of it was in the Undercity. That was a universal rule of thumb.
The Undercity was the exact opposite of Nerea, full of buildings that would make most mortals think whether or not they were in heaven. The fake skies were generated by the illusions of some of the denizens, and a sense of perpetual night was given with the countless stars hanging in the sky along with a moon, meticulously kept up in its full glory much like a mirror of the moon outside, but far larger and more beautiful. It didn’t look like an underground city.
The Children of the Night knew of the entrance, and the method with which to enter it intimately and almost subconsciously —under every bridge in Nerea was a Troll Gatekeeper, tasked with opening the entrance to any that may wish to enter it and to bar any that should not be allowed within. How exactly the city was built, no one knew, but it was almost two miles under the ground, only accessible through either the canals of the river that flowed into the city through a waterfall by swimming upward or through the entrances that the trolls created with their control over the Earth.
It was often full, but today, it was nearly empty. Not that the Rulers would notice, living in their own castles. But they very well knew what had caused the disappearances. The Calibration Stage had taken mere moments. The System had assumed that mighty creatures like them would even be phased by a hundred goblins, a dozen giants, or a few hundred overgrown snakes? Simply put, it wasn’t even worth a moment of their time.
Clara used the Skill she had gotten very recently and looked at her ‘mother’, as she asked to be called —the Vampire Ruler, their Empress, Carmilla II. Her skin was as pale as snow and hair as black as the night with piercing blue eyes that could pierce holes in walls. Her beauty was astounding, and it was a well-known fact that even fairies who use a Charm Glamour failed to even compare to her. Her voice was smooth, but stern, demanding obedience. And her majestic, black dress with frills screamed out nobility, not to mention the silver crown resting upon her head. And behind her, Clara stood.
Skill ‘Appraisal’ has been activated!
Name: Carmilla II
Class: Blood Monarch Lvl 1
Title(s): Vampire Empress, Ruler, Wolfsbane, Record Breaker, Sorceress of the Elements, Dragon Slayer
She sat at the end of a long table, clearly meant for meetings. Opposite to her on the other end sat the Werebeast Ruler, Amarok the White. The man always had a brown trench coat and a suit underneath it, worn neatly. He had white hair combed backward, a clean white mustache, and piercing golden eyes. Calling Amarok a man would be wrong, for it was a being that was beyond such concepts and could shift to any gender at a moment’s notice depending on the situation. But everyone called Amarok a ‘he’, for it hadn’t shifted to its female form for the last century.
The Titania IX sat closer to Carmilla. All Fairy Queens were to abandon their name and origins and take on the name of Titania, and she was the ninth. The previous ones could easily match Carmilla and Amarok, and as such, had been very well respected. But after she fell, the fairies slowly fell out of favor in the court and had to swear fealty to aside —the Titania chose Carmilla. Despite the title implying colors, the woman had pale skin and dark hair much like the Vampire Ruler, but her hairstyle was what many would call a ‘pixie style’. Her wings were black as well, glitters so dark that they absorbed the very colors from the surrounding area and turned them grayscale fell from her wings. And most importantly, she looked young, as if she was only sixteen at most.
Opposite to the Titania, also near Carmilla, sat a man with a head contorted to such a shape that it seemed almost like an oval. He was old, and a dirty grey goatee hung well to his belly. It wasn’t due to the length of the beard, but the tiny size of the elderly Yokai’s body. In fact, his head was the same size as his body. The contortion was so that his forehead was absurdly long —the Nurarihyon, Yokai Ruler.
They made up the so-called “Noble Court”, the ones that were ‘beautiful and noble’, and were in eternal conflict with those of the “Beast Court”, which was Amarok’s faction.
Next to the Titania sat a man that could only be described as one that almost seemed like it was skin wrapped around a skeleton aside from the head, with a white beard that reached his solar plexus. He was clothed in a dark gray robe with a hood, currently pulled down, showcasing his golden crown-shaped much like a flame. It was Koschei the Deathless, the Undead Ruler, a stern old man who rarely spoke.
Then opposite to Koschei, next to the Nurarihyon, sat a man that looked far too mundane. In fact, he was dressed like an office worker, complete with a white shirt tucked into his dark dress pants and glasses on his face. His hair was combed to the side, professionally, and out of all those sitting at the table, he seemed to be the most mundane. But anyone that had common sense would wager that he was special, and indeed, he was —the Demon Ruler. While the True Demons didn’t come to the Human World for the last thousand years, their descendants, previously known as Cambions, proceeded to deem themselves Demons.
Asmodeus was the name he had taken up, his original name known to no one, and for the last thousand years he’d led the other Cambions —one of the most dangerous Rulers, technically speaking, but not many followed his orders and kept to themselves. That was what had pushed him to swear fealty to Amarok, which he called an alliance.
It was obvious that from among the nine in the room, Clara was a metaphorical dwarf. She couldn’t even hope to measure up to even a tiny fraction of the Rulers’ strength, but now, perhaps she had a chance? Regardless, her destiny was to rule, and she would accomplish just what she sought —become a Ruler far more powerful than Carmilla. One day…
“I assume we are all here for the same reasons, brothers and sisters,” started Carmilla, serenely. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it seemed to make every other noise turn into nothing but dust when it reached the ears of others, and Clara started to become enthralled, Carmilla looking far more beautiful than before —almost like a goddess. Clara forced the blood within herself to speed up, her Class of Blood Sorceress assisting her greatly in this endeavor, and she finally broke free from the spell, “The arrival of this System seeks to give our cattle a chance to fight. I motion to start the takeover earlier than planned to make our superiority known to them before they start to realize that they can fight.”
“We dealt with the hunters all these years. What makes this any different? They’re still nothing but prey,” said Amarok, his perpetual gentle smile still on his face, despite the gravity of the situation, “It’d be more fun to hunt than to reap, don’t you think? Giving them the illusion of hope, and then crushing it. What better joy is there in our eternal life?”
“But we are nobles, the aristocrats of the world. Do you wish for those humans to dare oppose us? Would it not be more entertaining to see them struggle all throughout their lives and then die, having achieved nothing in life like the worms they are?” said Carmilla, and questioned Amarok. This was the cause of the rift between the factions. Those who wanted to feed peacefully joined Carmilla’s side, whereas those who wanted a challenge joined Amarok’s. Both took sadistic pleasure in the futility of human resistance, but in different manners.
“The humans have just as much a right to this world as us. All they have to do is prove themselves,” said Amarok, far too calmly. No one knew what he was thinking about due to that self-confident smile on his face. The same could be said for Asmodeus. They gave off the feel of those who knew the truth but refrained from speaking of it.
“Those hunters you aren’t taking seriously killed Dracula,” said Carmilla, word-by-word with an explanatory tone, as if explaining it to a toddler, “He was one of the most powerful vampires in the world, yet they still defeated him. Why are you so insistent on this hunt of yours? Is that connected with your many contracts with the hunters?”
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That had been the elephant in the room for years. Everyone knew that the werebeasts were far too peaceful with the hunters to believe, and they somehow managed to not lose a single member to hunters for the last decade. Amarok, just like always, spoke unfazed, “It is the other way around. The contracts exist because of the hunt.”
“So you’re confessing to cooperating with them?” asked Carmilla, a smirk on her face. She raised her arm and put her hand over her mouth. It was a sign of mockery, “You conspired with them against the Children of the Night.”
“I have not undermined the other Rulers in any manner. I simply kept the helpless in my pack safe,” said Amarok. He absent-mindedly stared at Carmilla, as if he didn’t even see her but right past. His eyes then fixated on Clara, “You reek of human, princess. Are you perhaps befriending one?”
“She is tasked with infiltrating the human world and getting information of the hunters. It is her sacred duty as a Daywalker. What of it?” asked Carmilla, now visibly irritated. She put her hand down and her elegant stare somewhat turned into a glare. But still, she looked no less stunning. Amarok simply closed his eyes and waited. Clara knew what he meant. He was under strict orders not to meddle with non-hunters, and she’d gotten into something similar to a relationship. The issue was, had he found out by himself, or from her assistant?
“Now now, let us stop this foolish squabble, shall we? I do have some very important news to report, but I can refrain from doing so if you all are reluctant to settle down,” said Asmodeus, staring at Carmilla. His eyes were empty but in a different way. Whereas Amarok’s eyes felt like they weren’t looking at Carmilla, Asmodeus’ felt like nothing, as if he was some background character that melded into nothingness —supernaturally mundane. And everyone sat at the ready. Anytime he opened his mouth, he had something important to tell, just as he said, “Now then, as you all might know, we have lost contact with the True Demons and the Old Gods a thousand years ago. Shortly before they did, though, I have heard a message, if you will, from one of the many True Demons I was sired by. They said the System was coming.”
“A thousand years ago?” Asked Koschei, the stern old man opening his mouth for the first time in the meeting. Not even this meeting, but all of them. He’d lost his Phylactery then, far out of reach. Whoever had gotten their hands on it would have authority over him, but he didn’t know who. He just knew it disappeared. How the others disappeared was mysterious, given that Koschei himself was a lesser Old God —the first Lich.
“Indeed. They either knew that it was coming and went to fight it, or more likely they were ‘integrated’ by it first,” said Asmodeus and stood up from his seat. He snapped his fingers, and a circle of Hellfire appeared within but a mere moment. No, less than a moment. It took only a fraction of a second. The fire was just there. Some Vampires could have objects combust with a mere glare, but this was shaped. And as far as they knew, Asmodeus wasn’t capable of this, “Said benefactor has contacted me right before this meeting of ours, you see. So I’d like to let you know that we will be going by the title of Cambions, again. Our masters have returned, after all.”
He then stretched his hands and started to walk around the table, as if he was some college lecturer walking around a classroom for no particular reason while giving their lecture. And then he stopped behind Carmilla, to which Clara gave way to, and he placed both hands on her shoulders. Asmodeus them bent down, and whispered into Carmilla’s right ear, “Now, you may know what that implies, no?”
***
Crack!
The sound of a vase breaking resounded through the half-empty halls. Their best troops had returned to the castle after completing their Calibration, all with Classes of their own. The Calibration simply revealed what was there and unlocked one’s full potential, as Clara had understood, so there wasn’t really much of a surprise.
“You may know what that implies?! Who does he think he is?” shouted out Carmilla, her claws bloody. Before her laid a corpse, all of its blood drained. It wasn’t even drunk, as it had been poured on the ground, making the crimson carpet a stained brown and the aromatic smell of iron wafted through the air —at least for a vampire. The poor mortal had been tortured to death, “His masters get back, and what does he do first? Threatens us! All these years, Amarok has had him under his paws! If he hadn’t been protected, I’d have torn out his throat and would have eaten his heart!
“Mother,” said Clara ever so quietly. As the protege of a Ruler, it was her duty to attend to them. The next-in-line had to learn everything their predecessors could do, but become better at it. With how powerful Carmilla was, though, that was almost a pipe dream. There were several knights lined up outside the door.
“What?” she asked, taking a break from her outburst.
“The knights are here,” said Clara, and as if finally finding her marbles after losing them, Carmilla quieted down and breathed heavily. A Vampire Knight wasn’t a title, but rather, a race in and of itself. There were three types of Vampires: Nobles, Knights, and Nosferatu. Regardless of allegiance, the three castes separated themselves. It was something that was in their very bones.
Nobles were able to use sorcery and move objects with their mind, as well as control the minds of mortals. Knights, on the other hand, were more physically able while having no supernatural abilities. Nosferatu, even more so, but they did not have a brain. The Nosferatu were mere foot soldiers, guards, or workers, with disfigured appearances that resembled a bat —they unconditionally followed the order of their nobler kin provided they weren’t already following orders.
The Nobles ruled and the Knights served. That was in their very nature, for some reason, and the ones that had sworn fealty to Carmilla —the majority, had returned from their Calibration. She liked to call them the Elites, and that wasn’t very far from the truth. They were, each having racked up a sizable hunter headcount over the centuries. And they all reported directly to her. Needless to say, there was no other occasion in which more than a hundred of them came at once. This was a special occasion.
“Right. The knights,” said Carmilla and fixed her clothing. With a flick of her wrists, she had the enormous door of the throne room open. Telekinesis, one of her many abilities, and one that Clara herself had. However, the Ruler’s prowess was far beyond hers and it eclipsed the meager Telekinesis that could only slightly move a car.
“We greet Your Majesty,” chanted the knights in unison, like a choir. They’d been hand-trained by her throughout the centuries, and knew what it was to respect. She’d killed one of the last dragons so long ago and had gained powers that were incomparable to mere Vampires, and most learned that they were no match for her the hard way —those ones didn’t dare raise their voices again.
The throne room was giant and had statues of the various heroic vampires as tall as three-story buildings throughout history lining the sides of the carpets, ten or so meters from them, perfectly symmetrical. Humans wouldn’t have been able to carry them without tools. Vampires could, on the other hand. Numerous small pillars that were waist-level stood near them, with the statue’s most prominent trophy upon it. The broken vase was one of them —it contained Van Hellsing’s granddaughter’s ashes, a true menace to their kind.
As for outside that, there were tall stairs so that the throne room would seem to be on the second floor whereas the knights knelt on the ground below. The floor was of gray stone, much like most of the Undercity and so were the walls. It was as if there was a castle within a castle, and the throne room was the inner one. The outer castle’s ceiling was tall, almost three hundred meters in height. It was supported by gigantic pillars that reached said ceiling, with dozens of meters in terms of radius.
The mere hundred and fifty knights, half of her inner circle, didn’t even fill a fragment of it. It could be said that the building itself was as large as a small town. There were four compartments much like these, styled differently. The fairies lived in the same compartment as the vampires, in one corner that couldn’t even be seen from where they stood. The werebeasts and the undead lived in one compartment. The Yokai lived in their own and the Demons, now Cambions lived in their own as well. Outside the ‘castles’ lived those who did not belong to any faction, such as the trolls who were neutral, and that section wasn’t even an eighth of the size of a single compartment.
“My children,” started Carmilla. She had a youthful appearance as if she was in her early twenties, so it would have been awkward to say that anywhere other than the Undercity. She donned her fake cheerful voice. You could easily recognize it if you were with her for long, and Clara had, so she knew, “The time for the Children of the Night to take over the mortals has come.”
Wait… they hadn’t agreed, had they?
“But the foolish beasts think that they would very much prefer a hunt,” she then spoke. Carmilla unconsciously used her manipulation charm, and as she was a degree of power greater than ordinary Vampires, she was one of the few that could control the minds and influence other Vampires so greatly. Only Clara knew of this fact among the Vampires, the others helpless against it —not that many of them even had the tools with which to escape it, which was the ability to control one’s blood. Only Carmilla and Clara had it. That was exactly why she was chosen as her protege. So if she ordered it, they’d follow her orders.
Clara didn’t like where this was going.
“I am a generous ruler. I have not given those vermin any trouble and cared for them much as a mother would. They live within my nation, feast within my halls and now they insult me and wish for me to step down, like a mortal?” she asked, this time quite loudly, “That is an unacceptable transgression toward your Empress —treason of the highest level. So will you fight for me and my pride, my children?”
“Our life is yours, Your Highness,” shouted out the knights in unison once again. Clara could only watch in disbelief. She was going to break the status quo?
“Then we ride come morning and we will kill them all in their sleep. The Fairies will send them off to a slumber they will not awaken from and the Spirits will haunt their dreams and show them who their Empress is, and then we will give them the dogs’ deaths they deserve. This is no war, my children. This is an execution!“ she shouted, and the knights chanted in unison. ‘Spirits’ was what she called the Yokai, and it was a sound plan, far more sound than she had expected a seething Carmilla to think of; but she was an Empress for centuries for a reason, “Now, go prepare. Summon every single noble and knight, Spirit and Fae in this plane. They have one night, and if they do not come, we will kill them and give them the same dog’s death that those mutts will have gotten. If they do not wish to rule alongside me, I alone shall.”
And with that, the knights scattered. They were fast, immensely so, and could reach even Japan within a single night.