The Crimson Covenant: The Moonlit Blood Chapter 13

 

Volume I  The Crimson Covenant: The Moonlit Blood

ACT III  Journey of the Coffin Guild

Chapter 13 A Family on the Road

Morning sunlight filtered through the endless emerald canopy of Central Elyria. The forest roads wound lazily between towering oaks whose trunks were so enormous that five grown men could scarcely wrap their arms around them. Golden rays slipped through the leaves, scattering patches of warm light across the moss-covered road. Crystal streams crossed beneath ancient stone bridges built so long ago that no historian remembered who had first laid them. The smell of pine, wildflowers, and fresh rain filled the cool air. Birds sang without fear. For the first time in many months...

There was peace.

A black gothic carriage rolled quietly beneath the trees. Unlike ordinary wagons, it made almost no sound. Its polished ebony body reflected the morning sunlight like black glass, while delicate silver runes shimmered faintly along every panel. Gothic arches decorated the windows, and silver dragon carvings curled across its doors. Four shadow horses pulled it effortlessly. They possessed no flesh. Their bodies were woven from living darkness, their manes drifting like black smoke behind them. Silver eyes glowed softly beneath skeletal faces, yet woodland animals paid them no mind. Even nature seemed accustomed to their presence. Walking beside the carriage was a towering giant of brass and steel. Őrök. More than three meters tall, the ancient Guardian-Class Arcane Automaton looked like a walking fortress. His broad shoulders were wrapped in weathered bronze plates engraved with glowing blue runes. Layers of black steel protected the joints of his massive limbs, while silver filigree decorated the edges of his ancient armor. His face resembled the visor of an old knight's helmet. Behind the narrow slits glowed two calm blue lights. Though every step weighed enough to shake the earth... He walked carefully so wildflowers beneath his feet remained untouched. Across one shoulder rested the elegant black coffin of Győző Várhegyi. Despite its size... He carried it as effortlessly as one might carry a walking stick.

Inside the carriage...

Chaos.

"I told you not to put your boots on the seats."

Bálint sighed.

Across from him sat Zoltán.

Now ten years old, the younger brother had grown slightly taller, though he still looked much younger than his age. His blond hair had become longer, constantly refusing to stay neat despite repeated attempts to comb it.

His bright blue eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity.

Unfortunately...

His boots were covered in mud.

"...Sorry."

He quickly wiped them using his sleeve.

"...That made it worse."

"I know..."

"You absolutely made it worse."

The carriage suddenly lurched over a bump. Several books slid across the table. A teapot tipped over. Zoltán caught it just before it spilled.

"...See?"

he grinned proudly.

"I helped."

Bálint pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You caused the problem."

"...Then solved it."

"...That's still helping."

Bálint couldn't argue with that.

Outside...

A pleasant metallic humming echoed through the forest. Őrök... Was singing. Or trying to. The ancient war machine possessed no real voice.

Instead...

His chest produced rhythmic mechanical clicks remarkably close to music. Small woodland birds had begun flying beside him.

Around midday...

The carriage stopped beside a crystal river. Lunch. Without a word... Őrök immediately began unpacking supplies. He unfolded a surprisingly elegant iron cooking table from inside the carriage. Then another. Then chairs. Then a kettle. Then enough cookware to feed an army.

Bálint blinked.

"...How do you fit all that inside?"

"I organized it."

came the calm mechanical reply.

"...Very efficiently."

Within minutes...

The smell of stew drifted through the forest. Fresh vegetables. Wild herbs. Slow-cooked venison. Warm bread baked earlier that morning.

Zoltán's eyes sparkled.

"It smells amazing!"

Bálint looked suspiciously at the enormous cooking pot.

"...When did you learn to cook?"

Őrök paused.

"My primary function during the First Age..."

"...included logistical battlefield support."

Silence.

"...Cooking?"

"Correct."

"...For soldiers?"

"Correct."

"...How many?"

"...Approximately forty-two thousand."

Both brothers stared.

"...Oh."

Lunch tasted incredible.

Neither brother understood how.

Zoltán reached for another loaf of bread.

"...Can I have one more?"

"You have already consumed six."

"...Seven sounds better."

"...Acceptable."

Őrök immediately handed him another.

Bálint sighed.

"You're spoiling him."

"I am feeding a growing child."

"He eats like three growing children."

While they ate...

The coffin rested quietly beneath the shade of a great oak.

Soft knocking echoed from inside.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

"...May I come out?"

Győző's calm voice echoed gently through the lid.

Bálint looked toward the sunlight.

"...Still daytime."

"I am aware."

"...The shade appears sufficient."

"...Probably."

The lid slowly opened. Dark mist drifted into the air. Thousands of tiny bats emerged first, circling the clearing before settling among the branches overhead like living leaves.

Then...

Győző Várhegyi stepped into the forest. Though thousands of years old, he appeared no older than a handsome young man in his mid-twenties. His pale skin contrasted sharply against short dark brown hair. Crimson eyes reflected centuries of wisdom rather than hunger. He wore elegant black noble clothing trimmed with silver embroidery, a long velvet coat flowing almost to the ground. Despite everything... He looked remarkably ordinary.

Until one noticed...

He cast no reflection upon the river.

He inhaled deeply.

"...The forest smells exactly the same."

Bálint smiled faintly.

"It always does."

"One advantage of immortality."

Győző chuckled softly.

"You appreciate consistency."

After lunch...

Training began.

Always.

Every day.

Without exception.

They found a quiet meadow surrounded by ancient pines. Birdsong filled the air. Győző stood calmly at the center. Hands folded behind his back.

"Bálint."

The older brother stepped forward.

Twin silver whips rested at his sides.

"Again."

Without warning...

Győző disappeared.

CRACK.

One whip lashed forward.

Nothing.

A finger tapped Bálint's shoulder.

"Too slow."

Bálint spun.

The vampire had already moved behind him.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Each attack missed.

Not because Bálint lacked speed.

Because Győző moved faster than sight itself.

"You're predicting movement."

Győző explained patiently.

"Stop predicting."

"Observe."

"Then react."

Minutes became hours.

Eventually...

Bálint managed to catch only the edge of Győző's sleeve.

The vampire smiled.

"Better."

It was the first praise Bálint had received all day.

He treasured it.

Though he never showed it.

Nearby...

Zoltán trained with Őrök.

The contrast was almost comical.

"Again."

said the automaton.

Sky Breaker crashed downward.

BOOM.

The earth shook.

"Too much shoulder."

Őrök corrected.

"Rotate the hips."

"...Like this?"

"Correct."

Another swing.

BOOOOM.

This time...

The axe struck cleanly.

The force split an enormous boulder neatly in half.

Zoltán blinked.

"...Oops."

"Excellent progress."

Őrök replied.

"...I broke the mountain."

"It required breaking."

"I don't think it did."

"It appears happier."

Both brothers stared.

"...You tell jokes now?"

"I have been studying humor."

"...How successful?"

"...Approximately seventeen percent."

Győző quietly smiled.

"I would raise that to twenty."

Evening arrived. Campfire smoke drifted gently into the darkening sky. Győző sat beneath a tree reading an ancient leather-bound book whose pages looked older than entire kingdoms.

Occasionally...

He paused to explain forgotten history.

"Long before humans built castles..."

he said softly,

"dragons taught dwarves how to shape mountains."

Zoltán's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Perhaps."

"You don't know?"

"I was asleep."

Bálint laughed. Actually laughed. Only once. But it happened.

Night deepened. Stars appeared overhead. The brothers lay beneath blankets beside the dying fire.

"Grandfather?"

Zoltán whispered sleepily.

"Yes?"

"...Do you ever miss Grandma?"

The forest became very quiet.

Győző closed his book.

Looked toward the moon.

"...Every day."

His voice was gentle.

"But love does not disappear because someone leaves."

"It simply..."

"...changes where it lives."

He placed a hand over his heart.

"...Here."

Silence followed. Warm. Comfortable. One by one... The brothers fell asleep. Bálint's hand rested unconsciously near his younger brother. Even while sleeping...

He remained protective.

Throughout the night...

Őrök stood watch beside the road without moving. Moonlight reflected from his ancient armor. Not because anyone had ordered him to. But because...

That was what family did. They protected one another. No matter how long the journey. No matter how dangerous the road ahead. And somewhere beyond the endless forests of Central Elyria... The Kingdom of Vahsravia waited. Along with a mystery that would soon call the Crimson Covenant into the shadows once again.

The Crimson Covenant: The Moonlit Blood Chapter 12

 ACT II  THE FALL OF HOUSE VÁRHEGYI

Chapter 12  The Last Survivors

Our children are the blood of our blood, the heartbeat of our legacy, and the bridge between our past and the future. Children are the living chapters of our story, carrying our blood, our values, and our hopes into tomorrow. The truest inheritance is not wealth or possessions, but descendants who carry our name, our blood, and our character.

Dawn came quietly. The battle was over. Silence had replaced screams. The lands of House Várhegyi no longer resembled the peaceful domain they had been only a day before. Smoke drifted lazily through the morning air. Half the village beneath the hill had burned to blackened foundations. Stone chimneys stood alone like broken gravestones. Fields of golden wheat had become fields of ash. The once-proud castle overlooking the valley was scarred beyond recognition. Its western towers had collapsed into heaps of stone. The great gate had been splintered apart. Black scorch marks stained its white walls. Broken banners fluttered weakly in the cold wind. The silver wolf beneath the black eclipse the banner of House Várhegyi hung torn from the highest tower. It was no longer a castle. It was a ruin. The air smelled of wet ash. Burned oak. Steel. Blood. The cheerful sounds that had once filled the valley children laughing... smiths hammering... horses in the stables... birds singing... were gone. Only crows remained.

A massive figure climbed the stone road leading toward the castle. Every heavy step echoed through the empty valley.

THUNK.

THUNK.

THUNK.

It was Őrök. The Guardian-Class Arcane Automaton. More than three meters tall, the ancient machine was covered in scratches from the night's battle. Entire sections of brass armor had been split apart. Deep cuts exposed glowing blue machinery beneath. One shoulder plate had been shattered. A crack ran across the smooth metal faceplate that hid his expression. Yet he continued walking without hesitation. Ancient blue runes pulsed softly beneath damaged armor. Tiny streams of magical light crawled across broken metal. Slowly... almost imperceptibly... the fractures began knitting themselves together. Bent steel straightened. Cracked brass reformed. Ancient self-repair magic awakened. Like living metal... Őrök healed. Behind him walked two boys. Neither spoke. Neither cried. They had cried enough during the night. Bálint walked first. Only eleven years old. His silver-blond hair was stained with soot. His noble clothes were torn and blackened by smoke. His hands were scraped raw. His gray eyes... once bright with curiosity... had become frighteningly still. He stared straight ahead. Almost expressionless. Beside him walked Zoltán. Only nine. He held tightly onto Őrök's enormous metal hand. His cheeks were stained with dried tears. His blond hair stuck messily across his forehead. Every few steps he looked toward the ruined castle. As though expecting their parents to emerge. They never would. Resting across Őrök's broad shoulders was an elegant black coffin. Silver dragons coiled across polished wood. Ancient runes shimmered beneath the morning light. The coffin remained closed. Silent.

They reached the castle courtyard. Bodies still lay where they had fallen. Knights of House Várhegyi rested beside servants. Farmers beside guards. Even strangers who had defended the castle were given the same dignity. Death had made everyone equal. The brothers searched.Together. Without speaking. They already knew what they would find.

Still...

they searched.

Near the broken gates... beneath dozens of enemy corpses...

they found him.

Lord Ádam Arpad Várhegyi. His armor had been shattered. His crimson cloak had become almost entirely black from dried blood. His sword remained firmly gripped in one hand. Even in death... he still looked as though he were protecting someone. His face... peaceful. Almost smiling.

Zoltán dropped to his knees.

"...Father..."

His voice broke. He threw his arms around the lifeless knight. The silence shattered. He sobbed uncontrollably. Small shoulders shaking. Hands clutching torn armor. Bálint stood frozen. His lips trembled. But no tears came. He simply stared. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Something inside him... had already begun turning to stone.

Farther inside the castle chapel... they found Lady Ilona. She rested peacefully before the altar. A sword still clutched in both hands. Several servants lay beside her. Even in her final moments... she had stood with her people. Protecting them. Until the end.

Zoltán buried his face against her shoulder.

"...Mother..."

There was no answer.

Only silence.

For the first time since awakening... the lid of the black coffin slowly opened. Quietly. Like someone waking from a long sleep. A pale hand emerged. Then another.

Győző stepped into the morning light.

He appeared no older than twenty-five. Tall. Graceful. His pale skin seemed untouched by time. brown hair. a black velvet coat embroidered with silver vines. His crimson eyes slowly surveyed the ruined castle. He already understood. He needed no explanation. The ancient vampire walked toward the children. He knelt before them. Neither as a king. Nor as a monster. Simply... as family. For several long moments... he said nothing. He placed one hand gently upon Bálint's shoulder. The other upon Zoltán's head.

"I am sorry."

Just three words.

Yet spoken with the weight of centuries.

Bálint finally spoke.

His voice barely above a whisper.

"We should kill them."

His gray eyes remained empty.

"We should find every last one."

His fists clenched.

"They killed everyone."

The morning wind carried ash across the courtyard.

Győző closed his eyes.

When he opened them...

there was only sadness.

"I could."

His voice remained calm.

"I could erase every Baalanian responsible before the next sunset."

His crimson eyes looked toward the smoking horizon.

"I have done such things before."

The brothers looked at him.

Hope...

mixed with anger.

"But revenge..."

Győző continued softly,

"...does not heal children."

Silence.

"It does not rebuild homes."

"It does not restore kingdoms."

"It does not return parents."

Zoltán quietly wiped away his tears.

"...Then what do we do?"

The ancient vampire smiled sadly. He looked toward the ruined valley. Toward the burned village. Toward the broken castle.

"This house has fallen."

"But your family..."

He gently placed a hand over each brother's heart.

"...still lives."

"You."

He looked at Bálint.

"Will become a protector."

"And you."

He smiled warmly at Zoltán.

"Will remind him why he protects."

Then he turned toward Őrök. The ancient automaton stood silently beside them. Waiting.

"Old friend."

Győző nodded.

"It is time."

The machine bowed.

"As you command."

Its deep metallic voice echoed across the ruined courtyard.

Győző looked once more at the castle.

"I could remain."

"I could rebuild these walls."

"I could restore House Várhegyi."

He paused.

"But walls can wait."

He looked at the brothers.

"They cannot."

He slowly closed the lids of their parents' coffins.

"We will bury them."

"We will honor them."

"And then..."

His crimson eyes turned toward the distant forests of Elyria.

"...we travel."

For the next several hours, the survivors worked together. Őrök carved graves into the hill overlooking the valley with his bare hands. The stone yielded beneath his enormous strength. Bálint carefully placed his father's sword upon the coffin. Zoltán laid fresh white lilies upon his mother's resting place. The surviving villagers gathered silently behind them. Some prayed. Some cried. Some simply stood. When the final prayer ended...

Győző stepped forward.

He raised one pale hand. Thousands of black bats emerged from the surrounding forest. They circled the graves in complete silence. Not as omens. Not as monsters. But as guardians. When the final bat disappeared into the morning sky... the wind stopped. Even nature seemed to mourn. The black carriage waited at the bottom of the hill. Shadow horses pawed quietly at the earth. Their silver eyes watched the road ahead.

Őrök lifted the elegant black coffin onto one shoulder. Then opened the carriage door. Bálint took one last look at the graves. His face had become unreadable. The cheerful boy who had once laughed in these fields was gone. In his place stood someone older than his years. Zoltán reached over and quietly took his brother's hand. Bálint looked down. Then gently squeezed it. The smallest gesture. But enough. Together, the brothers climbed into the carriage. Győző followed. The coffin rested once more inside. Őrök climbed onto the driver's seat. The shadow horses began to move.

The carriage rolled slowly away from the only home the brothers had ever known. Behind them... House Várhegyi disappeared beneath the morning mist. Ahead lay the vast roads of Elyria. Unknown kingdoms. Ancient ruins. Hidden evils. And a destiny far greater than revenge. From that day forward, people across the continent would whisper of a strange black carriage pulled by shadow horses, carrying two blond nobles, an ancient guardian of brass and steel, and a mysterious black coffin. They called them many names. But the one that endured through generations was the same.

The Crimson Covenant: The Moonlit Blood Chapter 11

 

Chapter 11  The Crypt

The family mausoleum of House Várhegyi stood apart from the castle. Hidden within a quiet grove of towering black pines, it overlooked the valley from a lower hill connected to the castle by an ancient stone path lined with weathered statues of forgotten lords and ladies. By day, it was a place of reverence. By night... It became a place of nightmares. Moonlight filtered through twisted branches, casting long skeletal shadows across rows of marble tombs. Moss covered centuries-old angel statues whose faces had long been worn smooth by wind and rain. Black ravens watched silently from broken crosses. A cold mist drifted between the gravestones, muffling every sound. The mausoleum itself resembled a small cathedral. Its walls were carved from dark gray stone veined with silver. Gothic arches framed heavy oak doors bound with black iron. Above the entrance rested the crest of House Várhegyi a silver wolf beneath a black eclipse its eyes fashioned from polished obsidian that seemed to watch every visitor. Generations of nobles rested beneath this place. Every lord. Every lady. Every hero of the house. The people of the valley believed the crypt was sacred. Even bandits refused to enter. Stories claimed thieves who disturbed the tombs vanished without a trace. The few who returned spoke only of wings in the darkness......and eyes that glowed like crimson stars.

Six-year-old Zoltán Várhegyi sat peacefully on the cold stone floor. Unlike his older brother, whose noble clothes were always neat and perfectly arranged, Zoltán looked delightfully untidy. His soft golden-blond hair curled in every direction, refusing to obey even after the maids spent half an hour brushing it each morning. His bright blue eyes sparkled with curiosity rather than fear. He wore a simple black noble tunic embroidered with silver thread, wool trousers tucked into little leather boots, and a short gray cloak fastened by a silver wolf brooch almost too large for him. In his lap rested a basket. Inside were fresh flowers. A loaf of bread. And a small bottle of homemade berry juice.

His "offerings."

Deep within the mausoleum... Beyond rows of beautifully carved stone sarcophagi... Past halls lined with statues of long-dead ancestors... One chamber stood alone. It was older than every other room. Older than the castle. Older than the kingdom itself. Massive black stone pillars supported its vaulted ceiling. Ancient silver runes covered every wall. Hundreds of candles burned despite there being no one to light them. At the chamber's center rested a single coffin unlike all the others. It was enormous. Fashioned from polished black stone that reflected almost no light. Silver dragons coiled across its surface. Ancient chains thicker than a man's arm wrapped around it. Dozens of crimson seals had been hammered into the stone. No inscription marked its owner. Only one sentence carved into the floor.

LET THE ANCIENT KING SLEEP.

Zoltán sat cross-legged beside it.

"Hello, Great Grandfather."

Silence answered.

He smiled anyway.

"I brought bread today."

He carefully placed the loaf atop a small stone table.

"I know you probably don't eat..."

"...but I thought maybe you'd like it."

Nothing happened. As always.

Still...

The little boy continued talking.

"Father let me ride one of the horses today."

"It didn't throw me off."

"I think it liked me."

He giggled.

"I fell into the pond afterward."

He looked toward the coffin.

"Bálint says talking to coffins is strange."

A thoughtful pause.

"...I don't think you're strange."

He leaned comfortably against the cold stone.

"I think you're lonely."

Outside...

War had reached the mausoleum. Distant screams drifted through the forest. Smoke darkened the moon. The ground trembled from battle.

Zoltán frowned.

"I don't like loud noises."

Then...

The doors exploded inward.

BOOM.

Splintered oak crashed across the marble floor. Torchlight flooded the ancient crypt. Six Baalanian warriors entered. Each possessed bronzed skin hardened by desert suns. Their broad shoulders strained beneath layered black armor worn over flowing black desert robes. Black cloth concealed the lower halves of their faces. Curved swords gleamed in their hands. One carried a flaming torch. Another dragged the wounded body of a castle guard behind him. The old man was still alive.Barely.

The lead warrior surveyed the chamber.

"Search everything."

His voice echoed unnaturally through the crypt.

One soldier pointed toward Zoltán.

"There's a child."

The leader smiled beneath his veil.

"The younger heir."

Zoltán stood.

His hands shook.

"You..."

"...you're hurting everyone."

The soldiers laughed.

One approached slowly.

"Come here."

"We won't hurt you."

The old guard suddenly grabbed the warrior's ankle.

"Run..."

he rasped.

"...Young..."

The warrior calmly drove his sword through the old man's chest. The crypt fell silent. The only sound... Was blood dripping onto ancient stone. Zoltán stared. His blue eyes widened. The basket of flowers slipped from his hands. White lilies scattered across the floor.

One Baalanian examined the enormous black coffin.

"No name."

Another touched one of the crimson seals.

"What do these symbols mean?"

The leader shrugged.

"Break them."

"If it's valuable..."

"...we take it."

The first seal shattered.

CRACK.

Nothing happened. The second.

CRACK.

The candles flickered. 

The third.

CRACK.

A freezing wind swept through the chamber.The torch flames turned blue. One soldier frowned.

"Commander..."

"...did it just get colder?"

Another looked toward the ceiling.

"The bats..."

Hundreds of black bats had quietly gathered among the cathedral rafters. No one had noticed them arrive.

The fourth seal broke.

CRACK.

Something...

Knocked...

From inside the coffin. One slow knock.

THUMP.

Every soldier froze. Another.

THUMP.

Silence.

One warrior laughed nervously.

"It's just settling."

No one answered.

The fifth seal broke.

CRACK.

The entire mausoleum shook. Dust poured from the ceiling. The dragons carved into the coffin seemed...

...to move.

Then came the voice. Soft. Calm. Gentle.

"So..."

A pause.

"...someone has been breaking my home."

The soldiers spun around. No one stood behind them. Another voice. From somewhere else.

"I was having..."

"...such a pleasant dream."

One warrior shouted.

"WHO'S THERE?"

No answer. Only wings. Thousands of wings. The bats descended. Not flying wildly. Moving together. Like flowing black water. They covered the ceiling. The pillars. The walls. Watching. Waiting.

Zoltán looked at the coffin.

His fear slowly faded.

"...Great Grandfather?"

The voice answered warmly.

"Yes..."

"...Little Zoltán."

"I heard every story."

"I enjoyed every visit."

"Thank you..."

"...for keeping an old man company."

The final crimson seal cracked. The chains fell away. One by one.

CLANG.

CLANG.

CLANG.

The lid slowly opened by itself. Darkness flowed out instead of light. Not smoke. Not mist. Living darkness. It spilled across the floor like ink. The candles went out. The room disappeared into black. Only two crimson eyes remained. A pale hand rested upon the edge of the coffin. Long fingers. Perfect nails. Elegant. The hand of a nobleman. Another followed. Then... He stood. Győző Várhegyi looked no older than twenty-five. He possessed pale skin untouched by age, sharp aristocratic features, and long raven-black hair that reached the middle of his back. His crimson eyes glowed softly within the darkness. He wore an immaculate black coat embroidered with silver dragons over an elegant high-collared vest and tailored trousers. A crimson cravat rested neatly beneath his collar as though he had awakened for a royal banquet rather than a massacre. Not a wrinkle marked his clothing. Not a speck of dust touched him. He looked impossibly refined. Almost beautiful. Until he smiled. His elongated fangs caught the moonlight. He was handsome but possessed a scary aura.

The Baalanians attacked together. Six curved swords flashed.

Győző disappeared.

No.

He had never been where they struck. The darkness itself moved. One soldier screamed. His shadow rose beneath him. Black tendrils wrapped around his arms. Then his legs. Then his throat. The scream ended abruptly. The bats exploded forward. Thousands upon thousands. They engulfed another warrior completely.

For a brief second...

His silhouette remained visible inside the swarm.

Then...

Nothing. The bats dispersed. Only empty armor crashed onto the floor.

Another soldier fled. He reached the doorway. The darkness beneath his feet became hands. They pulled him screaming back into the crypt. Silence followed.

The commander charged with a roar. Győző calmly stepped aside. One elegant movement. His fingertips brushed the man's shoulder. The commander froze. Every drop of color vanished from his face. His sword slipped from numb fingers. He collapsed without another sound.

Within seconds... The crypt became still again. Only drifting bats remained. Not one drop of blood stained Győző's clothing. The ancient vampire looked down at the trembling little boy.

His terrifying expression softened instantly.

He knelt until they were eye level.

"Are you hurt?"

Zoltán shook his head.

"No..."

Győző smiled gently.

"Good."

He brushed a speck of dust from the child's shoulder.

"I would have been terribly upset otherwise."

From somewhere far above...

The castle continued to burn.

Győző's crimson eyes slowly lifted toward the ceiling.

His smile disappeared.

For the first time in centuries...

The Ancient Vampire felt war in the air once more.

He sighed quietly.

"So..."

"...it has begun again."