Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The throne room of the Vampire Kingdom was vast and ancient, built not only to impress, but to oppress. The tall columns seemed to disappear into the darkness of the ceiling, and the walls bore the marks of time, almost imperceptible stains that betrayed centuries of violence and power. The lighting was low, sustained by torches of cold fire that cast distorted shadows across the black stone floor, as if the very environment breathed along with those who inhabited it. At the center of it all, elevated by several wide steps, was the throne—not just a seat of power, but a symbol of absolute dominion.

Seated there, with a posture too relaxed for someone in his position, was Vlad Dracula Tepes.

His gaze was sharp, almost motionless, as if he were constantly assessing everything around him without needing to move a single muscle. His fingers drummed lightly on the arm of the throne, a small gesture, but laden with contained impatience. There was something about him that didn’t need exaggerated display to be feared—his presence alone was enough to keep everyone in that hall in absolute silence. The vampire kneeling before him dared not raise his gaze.

"Did you find the child?" Dracula’s voice echoed through the hall, low, controlled, but laden with an authority that pressed against the air around him.

It wasn’t an ordinary question.

It was a test.

The vampire hesitated.

Just for a second.

But that was enough to give away the answer before it was even spoken.

"No, my king..." he began, his voice slightly trembling despite his effort to keep it steady. "But we are certain she fled to the Human Kingdom. Our scouts confirmed movement in that direction."

The silence that followed was short.

But heavy.

Dracula didn’t react immediately.

He simply stood there, observing.

Thinking.

Or perhaps just deciding.

Then, without any warning, he stood up.

The movement was quick.

Precise.

And before the kneeling vampire could even process what was happening, Dracula was already standing before him.

A hand rose.

And then—

Nothing.

No screams.

No struggle.

The vampire’s head fell to the ground with a dry sound, rolling a few inches before stopping, while his body remained kneeling for a brief second, as if he still hadn’t understood that he was no longer alive.

Blood slowly trickled down the dark floor, almost merging with the stone.

Dracula let out a small sigh, wiping his hand with a disinterested gesture, as if it were merely... inconvenient.

"Useless." He murmured, slowly returning to the throne, without even looking back.

The other vampires present remained completely still, rigid, like statues that knew exactly what would happen if they dared to react inappropriately. The fear there wasn’t displayed in exaggerated expressions—it was silent, internalized, deeply rooted.

Dracula sat back down.

Leaning back.

Calm.

As if nothing had happened.

"If she’s in the Human Realm..." he began, more to himself than to the others, his eyes slightly narrowed in thought. "Then we’ve taken too long."

Before he could continue, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.

Quick.

Disorganized.

Wrong.

All eyes immediately turned to the entrance as a vampire burst forth, rushing through the large doors with a speed bordering on desperation. His face was completely pale—not the natural paleness of his race, but something beyond that, something that indicated pure shock.

He stopped abruptly in the center of the hall, panting, his eyes wide as if he had seen something that shouldn’t exist.

Dracula didn’t move.

But his expression changed.

Slightly.

Danger.

"Explain." The word came out low, but laden with something that instantly made the air feel heavier.

The vampire swallowed hard, clearly trying to organize his words, but failing to hide his nervousness.

"A letter, my king..." he said, raising his trembling hands slightly. "An official letter."

Dracula inclined his head slightly.

"And you invade my hall because of a letter?" The tone wasn’t loud, but the implied threat was clear enough to make anyone there recoil.

The messenger quickly shook his head.

"It’s not an ordinary letter..." he replied, his voice faltering slightly. "It’s... from the Kingdom of Witches."

The silence that followed was immediate.

Different.

Denser.

Dracula showed no fear.

But something changed.

Very subtly.

His fingers stopped moving.

With a minimal gesture of his hand, the letter was snatched from the vampire and pulled through the air into his hands, enveloped in a slight magical distortion that betrayed the power behind the simple movement.

He looked at the seal.

He recognized it.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he opened it.

The entire hall remained in absolute silence as he read.

Line by line.

Without haste.

Without interruptions.

And for a moment... nothing happened.

No immediate reaction.

No explosion.

Just silence.

But then—

The pressure shifted.

It wasn’t visible.

But it was felt.

The air in the hall seemed absurdly heavy, as if something invisible were pressing down on everyone at once. Some vampires instinctively recoiled, others lowered their heads even further, unable to withstand the presence emanating from the throne at that moment.

Dracula didn’t raise his voice.

But his eyes...

They grew darker.

Deeper.

More dangerous.

"Kael... Scarlet..." he murmured slowly, as if savoring the name, testing it, weighing it.

He continued reading it mentally, even though he had already finished.

The phrase echoed.

Simple.

Direct.

Unformal.

Without protocol.

Without a request.

"I am Kael Scarlet, the current King of Witches." He repeated in a low voice, almost inaudible, but loud enough for those closest to hear.

A pause.

And then—

"I’m coming to see you."

The hall remained silent.

But it wasn’t the same silence anymore.

It was... anticipation.

Dracula slowly lowered the letter.

His fingers lightly squeezed the paper, enough to crumple it slightly, but not tear it.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

He leaned back on the throne again, his eyes now focused on something distant, as if looking far beyond the walls of that hall.

"So..." he began, a slight smile slowly appearing on his lips, but it wasn’t a friendly smile.

It was dangerous.

"He’s coming for me."

There was a brief pause.

And then he let out a small laugh.

Loose.

Controlled. But it was laden with something that made even the oldest vampires there feel a deep unease.

"A Scarlet..." he continued, tilting his head slightly to the side. "And now... King of Witches."

He closed his eyes for a moment.

Thinking.

Processing.

And then he opened them again.

Decided.

"Prepare the castle." He said, returning to his tone of absolute command. "I want every entrance monitored. Every shadow observed."

He stood up again.

This time, without haste.

"If he wants to come to me..." his voice was a little lower, more charged. "Then I will receive him."

His eyes gleamed slightly in the darkness.

"As a king should receive another."

The hall remained still.

But everyone there understood.

This was not just a visit.

It was the beginning of something much bigger.

And possibly—

Irreversible.

...

The interior of the royal carriage was comfortably silent, a stark contrast to the heavy silence of battlefields or strategy rooms. The wheels turned steadily over the uneven track, creating an almost hypnotic rhythm that accompanied the gentle sway of the vehicle, while the late afternoon light filtered through the partially open curtains, casting soft shadows on the refined interior. The space was ample, luxurious without being excessive, with upholstered seats and dark wood details that clearly indicated the importance of the person being transported.

Kael leaned back comfortably in one of the seats, one leg slightly extended while the other remained bent, his arm resting on the backrest with a naturalness that contrasted with the fact that he was, technically, on a diplomatic mission that could easily end in war. His eyes were half-closed, not exactly asleep, but clearly savoring the rare moment of pause between one absurd situation and another even more absurd one that likely awaited him.

Then he sneezed.

It was sudden.

Without warning.

It was loud enough to completely shatter the tranquil atmosphere inside the carriage.

Kael frowned slightly for a second, automatically wiping his nose before opening his eyes fully, staring blankly for a few moments as if trying to process something far deeper than a simple sneeze.

"Someone’s talking about me," he murmured, in a neutral, almost thoughtful tone, as if it were an inevitable logical conclusion.

In front of him, seated impeccably, Exelia didn’t react immediately. She sat with her legs crossed, her posture perfect, her clipboard resting on her thighs as she reviewed some notes with impressive calm, as if she were organizing a nobleman’s schedule rather than monitoring the potential start of a conflict between kingdoms.

The outfit she wore still clashed completely with the traditional image of a general: the well-fitted white shirt contrasted with the short leather skirt, creating a combination that mixed authority and lightness in an almost provocative way—though her expression remained entirely professional, as if nothing there was out of the ordinary.

She slowly raised her gaze after a few seconds, observing Kael with a slight tilt of her head, analyzing not the sneeze, but the comment.

"Considering your current situation..." she began, her voice calm and slightly amused, "it’s more likely that many people are talking about you at the same time."

Kael let out a small sound through his nose, something between a sigh and a suppressed laugh, tilting his head slightly back against the headrest as he looked at the carriage ceiling.

"Great." He murmured. "Exactly what I wanted."

There was a slight trace of irony in his voice, but not enough to hide the real weariness behind it. He ran a hand through his red hair, tousling it slightly as he closed his eyes for a second, as if trying to ignore the fact that his existence had become... too public.

Two days.

That’s all it took.

Two days since his grandmother’s declaration, and now every corner of the world seemed to know exactly who he was.

It was no longer possible to walk through a city without attracting attention. It was no longer possible to exist without stares, whispers, speculation. The anonymity that had once accompanied him like a shadow had simply... vanished.

And, honestly, that was irritating.

Exelia observed the gesture silently for a moment before speaking again, her expression softening slightly, though still carrying that constant air of control.

"Kings rarely have the privilege of anonymity," she commented, looking back at the clipboard as she carefully adjusted one of the pages. "Especially when they are declared in this way."

Kael opened one eye, looking directly at her with a slightly tired expression.

"I didn’t ask for this." He said, simply, directly, without dramatization.

Exelia smiled slightly.

"I know." She replied. "But that doesn’t make it any less real."

The sound of the carriage wheels continued steadily, creating an almost reassuring backdrop to the conversation, while outside the landscape slowly changed, the trees becoming denser, the air colder, heavier—clear signs that they were approaching a less... friendly region.

Kael turned his face slightly towards the window, observing through the curtain the gradually transforming scenery, his eyes more attentive now, more present.

"How long?" he asked, still looking outside.

Exelia didn’t hesitate to answer.

"A few hours to the border." She said, quickly glancing at one of the notes before continuing. "And, considering the territory, from there the movement will get... more interesting."

Kael let out a small "hm" in response, as if that was exactly what he expected.

"Interesting usually means problematic," he commented, looking away from the window and back at the interior of the carriage.

Exelia looked up again, this time with a slight glint of amusement.

"With you involved, that’s practically guaranteed."

Kael didn’t respond immediately.

But a small, knowing smile appeared on his lips.

Not a smile of amusement.

But one of acceptance.

He shifted slightly in his seat, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side, closing his eyes again, as if trying to savor the rest of the journey before everything inevitably spiraled out of control.

"I just hope it’s quick," he murmured.

Exelia tilted her head slightly, observing him for another second before returning to her clipboard, calmly making another note.

"Considering the recipient of your visit..." she said, in a slightly thoughtful tone, "I think it’s unlikely."