The moon hung low, a pale sentinel watching over the chaos below. The sharp scent of blood mingled with smoke, carried on the wind like a herald of death. I had been drawn here by the threads of fate—a familiar pull, one I could not ignore. A quiet voice within urged me onward, though I had long abandoned notions of destiny. Yet the plight of this night called to me.

From the shadows, I emerged, my boots silent on the cobbled stones, my form a specter in the moonlight. I saw Dorlta flying with her vampires towards a group of mortals.

Before she could attack them I pierced her with my sharp sword almost like an Michael the Archangel. The air shifted as their eyes fell upon me, and I met their stares with calm detachment. Fear, confusion, and defiance mingled on their faces, but I remained unfazed. I had seen such expressions countless times before.

“I’m Alucard…” I spoke, my voice steady yet laced with centuries of weariness as I look at the vampires.“…son of Dracula… And if you fight me, you’ll die like thousands of vampires before you.”

And they’ve all ran away.

Mortals were staring at me, they’ve all thought that I was just a myth. I felt their presence behind my back… A Belmont, I thought, feeling the faintest ripple of something akin to hope. The Belmonts had always walked a path parallel to my own, their fates intertwined with the blood that coursed through my veins.

“You must be Richter Belmont. Complete with whip,” I continued. I knew the danger they were all in. They have to fight the Erzsebet Báthory, “And on the brink of utter defeat.”

I turn to them, my piercing yellow gaze falls on the Ritcher Belmont, I feel the presence of other mortals that are starting at me with utter shock, a man, a black girl, a younger blonde hair girl and… A shock flickered in my eyes for a less than a second… You… A dhampir? Who the fuck are you? I continue looking at young Belmont and I spoke.

“I hope I’m not too late.”