[Host, once you get back, just wash up and go to bed.]
"That's rare." Dracula raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You actually care about me?"
[No, I just meant—you should sleep. In dreams, you can have everything.]
The system responded coldly.
[Besides, you may not have much of a choice. I've already guided your so-called 'reward' right to your doorstep.]
"…Damn it."
Dracula looked toward the distance, where a silver-haired twin-tailed girl in a noble black gown was stumbling toward him, chased by a group of figures cloaked in black—reeking of vampire energy.
"…You win."
Dracula—or rather, Gabriel Belmont—was actually a very mild-tempered man.
Back when he was still the mightiest paladin of the Brotherhood of Light, he lived peacefully among the people in the city where the Brotherhood's headquarters stood. Gabriel loathed lies. He favored the purity of children and the devotion of true believers. For them, he was willing to pick up arms and face the unspeakable evils of the world—those that no one else dared challenge.
Even when he ultimately became the Dark Lord of Shadow in a last-ditch effort to save the world—only to be branded a villain by the very Brotherhood he once served—Gabriel didn't throw a dramatic tantrum or scream vengeance.
The only time in his life he'd ever been truly, gut-wrenchingly furious, was when a certain brat calling himself Alucard Belmont barged into his throne room.
It happened like this:
Dracula (sitting regally on his throne): "You've got guts, boy. Name yourself."
Alucard (drawing the Vampire Killer): "My name is Alucard. Alucard Belmont."
Dracula (stroking his chin): "Ah, a Belmont. So you're this generation's strongest knight of the Brotherhood, huh? Surprising they'd let you bear the family name. Are you an orphan?"
Alucard (dead serious): "No. My mother was Mary. I'm your son. My name is Alucard Belmont.
Father, I've come to end your evil."
Dracula (???): "…HUH?"
Of course Dracula remembered Mary. She was, after all, a woman he'd once been engaged to. But unlike the original canon, he didn't love her that deeply—she simply wasn't his type. He had made the usual promise: "After the war, let's settle down and get married." Predictably, he never returned.
After becoming the new Dark Lord, he had all but forgotten any feelings he once held for Mary.
So when this brat—dead serious and full of righteousness—called himself his son, Dracula was utterly dumbfounded.
What the hell?
He and Mary had never actually done the deed! So what was this? Mary climbed someone else's wall, and now some other guy's brat was calling him Dad?!
Was the Brotherhood trying to make him take responsibility for a child that wasn't even his? Were they that sure he was a pushover?
He was this close to beating the Brotherhood's golden boy to death right then and there. But in the end, for the sake of his grand plan—and to protect the innocent under the Brotherhood's care—he held back, half-killed Alucard, and tossed him out of the demon castle.
Time passed.
Alucard, with his pretty face and sunny disposition, helped the Belmont bloodline flourish.
Meanwhile, Dracula—with his equally handsome features but gloomy, awkward, and overly dramatic personality—remained like a pure, untouched white flower.
He had even refined a vampire body to master a technique that typically required a chaste body—Pure Yang Arts.
And now, not only had he unwillingly become a dad—he was canonically acknowledged as the Belmont family's ancestor, and also their ultimate kill-on-sight target.
A whole bloodline of vampire hunters now traced back to him.
The fact that the Belmont clan still exists shows just how chill Dracula truly is.
So when the twin-tailed silver-haired girl in a black gothic dress crashed into his chest, using him as a human shield, Dracula didn't even look upset.
She pushed against him, trying to shove him toward the black-robed pursuers chasing her. But Dracula remained rooted in place, unmoving.
She looked up, startled.
Indeed, she was the very image of a true loli-type beauty—which, incidentally, was Dracula's type.
The silver-haired girl blinked her bright blue eyes with playful cunning, then suddenly gave Dracula a firm pat on the shoulder.
"Good luck, I'm leaving it to you!"
She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then turned and ran off with dainty steps.
Dracula remained where he stood, completely still.
He had no intention of stopping those black-robed vampires approaching.
But just because he didn't want to fight didn't mean they would let him off the hook.
The black-robed vampires slowly closed in, forming a circle around him.
Dracula glanced at them and said, "Hey, I don't even know that girl. You believe me?"
No reply. Just cold, wary stares.
He rolled his eyes, looking at them like they were idiots.
"Seriously? Your target's that girl. And you're wasting time on me? She's practically out of sight already."
Just as he finished speaking, a black-robed vampire suddenly leapt at him from behind.
Clang!
The vampire slashed his sharpened claws across Dracula's neck—only to strike something as hard as metal. The blow didn't even scratch the surface.
Dracula sighed.
Then suddenly reached up and grabbed the vampire's arm.
The vampire struggled to yank his arm back, but Dracula's grip was like iron—immovable.
With no other option, the vampire sliced off his own arm, then retreated to his group.
"He's not human—he's a bloodkin! Equip vampire-slaying gear!"
As one, the black-robed group threw off their cloaks and drew daggers imbued with holy energy from beneath their armor.
"Well, at least you're prepared," Dracula muttered. "But aren't you worried one day you'll stab yourselves with those things?"
No response.
The vampires, now equipped with silver-blessed daggers, charged from all directions—moving faster than the human eye could track.
Dracula narrowed his eyes. To him, they moved ridiculously slowly.
He sighed again.
And decided—he couldn't even be bothered to dodge.
The silver daggers—deadly to vampires—stabbed into every vital point. Heart, forehead, temples, carotid artery…
One dagger even targeted a particularly unspeakable area.
Dracula caught the attacker's arm and turned to him with a smile that was almost kind.
"Hey… now you're just making me mad."
But the attacker kept pushing with all his might, stubbornly determined.
"…Damn it, why do I always meet freaks like this?" Dracula grumbled.
A wave of pure magical energy exploded from his body, flinging every black-robed vampire around him away like rag dolls.