CHAPTER 25: WITH A RED LIGHT OF TRIUMPH IN HIS EYES, PART 1

"Ah, it was about time," said Dracula as he sat on his throne once more, languid, completely relaxed, in his element. Of course, Davy Jones followed closely behind and stood beside the throne. "I’ve grown tired of doing everything myself very quickly. It’s exhausting and boring. From now on, I don’t plan to lift a finger."

This wasn’t an exaggerated sudden whim but a return to normalcy. It happened every time, except when some great hero emerged, massacring his armies and reaching the throne room only to duel him, carrying the hope of all his people on their shoulders, meaning, dragging the weight of their small world with every step they took.

Those were the kinds of fights worth having, capable of killing his boredom, but from what he had seen of this decadent era, he wasn’t sure if a hero capable of facing him and killing his boredom for a while could emerge, although not him.

He wished it weren’t so, but it seemed that some of the spirit of humanity had died, or at least become sick.

Maybe it was his fault and the long vacations he had taken involuntarily. Humans must have grown accustomed to peace and consequently become clumsy and weak, complacent. Where could a hero emerge if the population was nothing more than cogs in a great machine?

But well, whether there was one or not waiting for him wasn’t really his concern. If there was, well, he would applaud and enjoy it to the end. If not, he would also accept it without any problem.

Dracula had lived for too long, fighting against the poison called 'boredom,' and consequently had seen everything in all possible ways.

When you lived for so long, it became evident that patterns weren’t as varied as humans liked to believe.

Even heroes, whose mission was to challenge fate, were predictable. Or rather, especially heroes. You would never see one rejecting the call to continue with their insignificant life as a farmer, sheep-shagger, or whatever they did before starting what people really wanted to hear about.

And if someone broke the pattern by some chance or cosmic error, well, that didn’t concern him. They would simply become one of many people Dracula would never see. He would never know what might have happened and wouldn’t understand them in the least. Nothing would change.

All roads led to the same place and none were entertaining. Not really. Dracula had long forgotten the meaning of the word fun, but he couldn’t simply abandon this rat race. So what else could he do? In any case, even if it wasn’t really fun, things like heroes were capable of giving him a 'thrill' that made him feel less numb. That was enough for him. It had to be enough.

Dracula slowly closed his eyes. His consciousness accelerated and expanded throughout the castle.

"It’s irritating to have to do this every time. Who came up with the idea that the layout of the castle should never be the same?"

"You did, my dark lord," responded one of the monsters gathered in the throne room, kneeling before him. Yes, he hadn’t mentioned their presence until now, but why would he? They were just servants. They were like the furniture that adorned the throne room. Not worth noting their presence until they had something to contribute.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Dracula grimaced. Although, in this case, it wasn’t contributing anything useful. The creature was right; well, how could he know what kind of monster it was with his eyes closed? Because if the layout were the same every time, even this would become boring. He had made that decision so long ago he had forgotten. It had been a good decision, but... how inconvenient, he thought.

Dracula snapped his fingers, making the head of whoever it was explode for correcting him and leaving no one to punish but himself. Which wasn’t going to happen, naturally. He should have seen it coming.

He supposed the creature had shown courage in telling him, but it did little good now that it was dead. Hahaha. In any case, he returned his focus to the task at hand. He was arranging the waves of enemies and various traps with his mind. Everything had to be in place for when the humans arrived.

"It’s the first party I’ve thrown in a thousand years, after all. I can’t betray their expectations or lower the bar." Dracula opened his eyes. They glowed like freshly spilled blood. His eyes were redder than ever, being connected to the spirit of the castle, so to speak. It wasn’t exactly a spirit, however. "Someone bring me a cup of blood. And be prepared to clean the carpet."

Dracula laughed.

He had recovered his castle, but not the fullness of his strength. However, let’s say he was at eighty percent, though it was really impossible to give an exact figure. Even so, he was a god among men. A giant in a world of ants. Humans hadn’t seen anything yet.

——

Alex dispatched yet another vampire, cutting off its head. The only difference this time was that she had to use her shield, not her sword. A shield wasn’t made for that, but it served her well. The edge of the shield proved sharp enough to sever the vampire’s neck with three blows. That was pretty good. She was satisfied.

She lifted her head, ready to continue the battle.

There was no silence. The crackling of flames. The groans of the dying. The sound of metal being torn and skin being cut. It was clear. The fight was over for all intents and purposes, though a few flames still refused to go out. The job was done. She could rest.

Alex retrieved her shield and sword. She sat on the barrier and took a deep breath, watching as those last flames were extinguished. She didn’t feel guilty. She was taking a well-deserved break at an opportune moment.

Even if it were otherwise, this mission meant nothing. The masquerade would collapse, and the world would plunge into chaos. She felt blessed by the lives she had been able to save and the misery she had ended, of course. But millions more would die in the coming days. It was inevitable.

The darkness would resurge along with its Prince, and no one would escape unscathed.

Which didn’t mean that victory was impossible.

But what did victory mean in this case? What would be left after the dust settled? Would it be a world worth fighting for? Or just ruins?

In any case, she should do what she could to enjoy this respite. It was clear. This could be the last real break she could take until the day she died.

——

Panic spread throughout the city. People sought salvation and wondered what the hell was happening. Everything was like a living nightmare, too unreal. But they didn’t know that things hadn’t even begun. The sky filled with black storm clouds. It wasn’t as if it suddenly turned to night. That sky resembled outer space more than the night sky. And, as if that weren’t enough, it began to rain.

It was a rain of blood.

But even that was just the beginning. Dracula’s army marched on the city. Not all of it, but a significant part.

Those who were lucky enough not to have to wait for humans to come to them to start the feast.

With a Red Light of Triumph in His Eyes, Part 1: END