Before monsters walked the earth, there was only darkness— the kind that hid within the deepest recesses of the human heart.
In the ancient Salt Blake, shrouded in fog and ruled by fear of the unknown, lived Erick Kramer, a devoted and honorable physician. Everything he did was for the love of his wife, Mina — a woman whose beauty seemed to ward off death itself… until death came for her.
A mysterious illness slowly consumed her, and no medicine, no science, brought an answer.
Despair is the first step toward hell.
Erick followed the whispers that slithered through alleyways like curses — of a reclusive witch said to dwell beyond the limits of human reason, one who could touch the supernatural. He found her… and begged.
The witch, her eyes seeing beyond flesh and time, brewed a potion from forbidden elements. Mina drank it — and by the next morning, she was cured. Radiant. Alive.
Too alive.
The miraculous cure stirred the townsfolk's ignorance. They saw blasphemy in an act of love. Screams echoed through the streets; torches rose like hungry teeth.
On a starless night, Mina was captured. So was Erick.
He watched — chains biting his wrists — as his beloved was burned alive before his eyes. The flames laughed, and the scent of scorched flesh marked his soul forever.
That night, a monster was born — even before the pact.
Driven by pain, Erick returned to the witch, demanding vengeance. She had been waiting for him. For she had never been a healer… but a servant of the abyss, a herald of damnation.
"The power you seek," she whispered, "comes only with a price."
"I don't care," Erick replied. "I'll pay anything."
The ground split open. The air froze.
From the shadows emerged Uphir, the demon lord of the Blood Corruption Realm. His smile tore reality itself.
"The pact is simple," he said. "Your soul, in exchange for eternal power."
And Erick accepted.
A bat descended, drawn by the scent of death. Uphir lifted it as an offering — and the creature's blood ran down the doctor's hands. When Erick drank, his veins turned into rivers of darkness, and his eyes burned crimson.
Thus, the First Vampire was born.
Upon learning what his brother had become, Ulisses Kramer, a humble merchant, sought to stop him. When he failed, he made the same pact — but for a different reason: to protect humanity.
A wild wolf appeared beneath the moonlight, howling to fate. From its blood, Ulisses rose as the First Werewolf.
And so began the war between brothers.
Centuries passed. Armies rose and fell under moon and blood. Vampires and werewolves divided the world — yet their hatred endured.
Until, in the final battle, Ulisses defeated Erick at the cost of everything he was. He sealed his brother in the Underworld, losing his powers and vitality. His hair turned white as eternal mourning. Yet from that day forth, he was remembered as the legendary werewolf warrior, a tale whispered through generations.
Years later, stripped of his monstrous nature, Ulisses found something even war could not destroy — love.
Alyra, a vampire who rejected the cruelty of her kind, became his redemption. Together, they defied nature and hell itself, giving birth to the impossible: twin daughters.
Lucy, half human, half vampire, immune to sunlight — the greatest weakness of her kind.
Nyra, half human, half werewolf, free from the curse of the full moon.
They grew hidden from both worlds.
On their tenth birthday, Alyra gave them their heirlooms:
the Crimson Pendant, red as freshly spilled blood, to Lucy and the LycantPendant, deep blue as a howl over the mountains, to Nyra.
Ulisses gifted them sacred weapons meant for warriors:
the red-and-silver sword Dracslayer to Lucy,
and the mystic katana Kaburami to Nyra.
For three years, Ulisses trained them. Alyra loved them.
The future, at last, seemed merciful.
But hell remembers.
Even imprisoned, Erick sensed the sin his brother had committed — mixing cursed blood with forbidden love. From his infernal cage, he whispered to zealot vampires, revealing where Alyra was hiding.
Vengeance fell like a storm.
The mansion burned as screams tore the night apart. Ulisses fought with what strength remained, but his mortal body could not endure. Alyra hid Lucy in the basement, promising to return with Nyra.
But nothing returned. Only fire. Silence. And the stench of death.
When the flames finally died and Lucy rose from the ashes, her heart had perished with her family. All that remained was hate...
Hate for the monsters who destroyed her life.
Hate for the blood running through her veins.
From that day on, she swore never to be a victim again.
She would hunt what hunted her.
Destroy every creature that dared breathe the same air.
Between sarcasm and fury, she forged herself into something new, a hunter who laughs to keep from crying, who bleeds to remember she's alive.
That night, the legendary monster hunter was born.