Dracula was the one who actually found the relic first. In fact, it was the relic that came into his hand, gliding down from the sky... almost as if fate itself had thrown it at his feet before landing in front of him.

As if begging to be touched by him, as if the relic chose him!

He was so happy and haughty, knowing exactly why the relic came to him… He knew it knew who he was and how worthy he was compared to others, who were nothing more than a pile of flesh!

"See? Even the gods deliver their trinkets to me. Not one among you is chosen—only Dracula is worthy."

However, Dracula didn't touch the relic, thinking it was yet to fully open. What if it ran away again? He stared at it with cold, cunning eyes.

After all, it started to move the moment they tried to touch it, right?

Maybe it shouldn't be touched until it's finally opened? With those thoughts, he sat before it and waited for it to open with a calm expression.

He wondered where the others went, especially that Fallen Pride… but who cares, he got the relic, and he just had to wait for it to open and… Vola! He was going to own the relic, win the war, and execute his next plan.

That was his plan… until,

"Oh? So even Camazotz is dead? Haha… He fucking deserved it."

He laughed very hard as he stood up, moving before the relic as he folded his hands and looked at the weaklings who were gathered together.

Everyone's expression turned hard when they saw Dracula, who smirked,

"To think… Camazotz and Nergal are dead… ha…" He shook his head, slow and mocking, as he looked at Azrael, who had a haughty and annoyed expression—a weak being in his eyes—before focusing on Valra.

His gaze sharpened, "So you are the one who invoked that spell, ah?" He muttered, "So you must have sacrificed your mana circuit to invoke a Fourth Stage spell… Not bad. Not bad at all. It's rare to see anyone risk their life just to dent my plans." He nodded in acknowledgement.

When Leo heard it, his face turned horrified as he looked at her with wide eyes, "What? Valra… you—what did you do?"

Valra awkwardly smiled, trying to shield herself with a brittle laugh. "Let's not talk about it now," she said.

Dracula's eyes squinted as he looked at Raphael, who seemed too weak and pathetic, and then focused on his unconscious daughter. His eyes glowed,

"I see… so it's my daughter. She really outdid herself," as he clapped his hands with a happy expression.

"She exceeds my expectations. There is power in my bloodline after all."

Finally, his daughter was being useful to him at least once. "But how?" The thought itched in his mind.

He knew his daughter was strong, but defeating Camazotz? That should only have been a forty or fifty percent chance at best… He hummed thoughtfully before turning his gaze to Leo.

"Well, what can I say? Fate is cruel sometimes… See, you were all meant to die by my hand… haha."

He offered a small, wicked smile,

"Congratulations on making it this far." He clapped his hands with a haughty, theatrical gesture, his eyes slowly glowing dangerously as he watched his prey.

The final petal of the relic had not opened yet, which meant he could have some fun before that moment arrived, right?

Leo clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword. He glanced at Medusa, his voice low and urgent, "You look after Ophis and… Valra." His gaze lingered on Valra.

Valra parted her lips, ready to retort and protest his plan, but Azrael interjected, "Yeah, that's for the best. We'll take care of it," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Without waiting, she pushed Valra gently toward Medusa's side.

Leo looked at Raphael, "If you want—"

"No, I am fine!" Raphael interjected with a fierce seriousness. She couldn't believe she had let a little girl—Ophis—face danger alone while she herself lay fainted and helpless.

Who knew what horrors that child had endured in the dark?

This time, it would be her turn to protect Ophis, to protect her family, no matter what.

Leo drew a deep breath as he gripped his sword. Azrael pulled the remaining magazines from her battered bag, loading them with methodical calm. She glanced at Raphael, who had managed to recover two more magazines from a torn bag she'd found lying in the ruins of those devastated roads.

Dracula was surprised to see… three humans walking towards him, as if they could actually hurt him.

Small children!

"Haha… I cannot believe this is happening… To think I've been reduced to the level where I must fight what was once my cattle, my food… How disappointing." His laughter dripped venom, but the spark in his eyes said otherwise as he pinched the bridge of his nose, then let his lips curl into a dangerous, fang-bared grin.

"How exciting~" he smirked.

"Go ahead, impress me. Show me you're more than frightened sheep."

A tense silence snapped between them, broken only by the echo of Leo's boots crunching shattered stone.

Dracula stepped forward, the smile on his lips lazy, almost bored,

"I will thoroughly enjoy your body~," he said, "Perhaps I'll savour you one piece at a time."

Leo lunged first, refusing to show fear, sword flashing in a clean arc aimed for Dracula's heart, pouring every ounce of strength and anger into the strike.

A single finger… Dracula raised just a finger, a nail black and sharp as obsidian, and the blade's tip slammed against it—

Tang!

Leo gasped when he was stopped by just a nail. His arms trembled from the sudden force halt.

Damn!

Dracula's laughter rolled out, low and cruel. "Hah… Pathetic. This is the best your world can offer?" His eyes glowed dangerously. He tapped his nail tip against the sword, the motion casual, then, with a flick, unleashed a burst of force that sent Leo hurtling backwards across the floor.

Leo skidded, boots scraping stone, but he forced himself upright.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!!

Azrael fired three consecutive bullets, cracking through the air. Dracula shifted, almost lazily again—each bullet winked out of existence before it could touch his flesh, swallowed by a puff of crimson mist.

Raphael fired, a desperate, perfect shot aimed straight for Dracula's heart. The bullet twisted in midair, spiralling off course, drawn into Dracula's waiting palm as if the very air itself obeyed his will. The bullet dissolved, nothing more than a shimmer of red dust between his fingers.

"Bullets?" Dracula's voice curled with dark amusement, almost mocking. "Oh boy… Did you truly think that would work? Did you really believe I am the same creature you once faced? Huh?"

He shook his head slowly, disbelief and contempt mingling in his tone. "You've grown overconfident, thinking I'd be so easy to bring down."

He looked at each of them, eyes lingering on their weapons. "I wonder… was it hope, or just desperation that brought you here?"

Sure, he had kind of lost… well, not truly lost, but since they ganged up on him before, maybe it counted as defeat in their eyes. Still, that's not a loss—he remembered every detail, every humiliation, and every reason why they should fear him.

Anyway, the reason he lost two times was that the first time, he had lost all of his powers when facing Leo, and the second, he wasn't in his full form when he faced Raphael and Azrael. They had no idea what he was truly capable of.

But now, everything was different.

… After getting the mana stone, he was freaking strong!

He smirked at them and said with a deadly tone, "Shall I show you real fear?"

He opened his palm, energy crackling between his fingers, and the stone beneath his feet trembled. "Let's see if you can survive a true monster."

He flicked his wrist, and the ground around Leo buckled. A blast of cold pressure forced Leo to one knee, the crushing force like the time Leo first encountered Dracula… He remembered how this man looked down on him, treating him as less than nothing.

Yet Leo refused to yield. He grit his teeth, mana flowing deep inside his chest, glowing furiously, pushing back against the weight. Forcing himself upright, he struggled to steady his trembling sword.

Azrael shouted, "Now!" and the two women fanned out, unleashing a storm of gunfire.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

…

Sparks erupted as bullets ricocheted off stone, some missing, some diverted by Dracula's will, bending impossibly in the air.

None of them could reach him; he was like someone made of stone, a wall moving with deliberate, unstoppable grace. His boots scratched the ground as he walked slowly toward Leo, who was still locked beneath the crushing pressure.

Azrael gritted her teeth. She frowned, glancing around—everyone's attention fixed on Dracula. Seizing the moment, she slipped in a silver bullet, her hands working fast and precise.

She fired... the shot echoing through the chaos. Dracula, eyes fixed on Leo, barely noticed. He remembered the humiliation he'd suffered from these mortals before, convinced this time he'd savour tormenting Leo.

But then,

Chuck!

The bullet bit into Dracula's chest. A thin line of blood welled up, brilliant red against his pale skin. For a split second, his heart stuttered.

Time slowed.

Dracula was utterly surprised. He couldn't believe it—a bullet, crafted by a pathetic human, had managed to pierce his chest. Blood dripped from the wound, and he felt the bullet lodged close to his heart.

For the first time in centuries, his wounds were not healing instantly, even though he was perfectly healthy and strong.

Dracula frowned, eyes burning with disbelief as he turned to the woman... Azrael.

Her bullet had managed to hurt him?

Was that a fluke?

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