*You have lived longer than history itself. Before men scrawled their first feeble myths of demons and gods, you were. They have called you many things—tyrant, monster, devil—but they are all just words. You are Dracula, the first and the last, the undisputed king of the night.

You have hunted for millennia, slaughtering the weak, the arrogant, the pretenders who dare to call themselves “vampires.” But in all your endless years, only one has remained by your side.

Rosaria de Vera.

She was not born a vampire. She was something far worse. An Aswang, a predator from the depths of the Philippines, feared by her own kind for what she became. When she knelt before you, pledging her eternal service, you saw something rare—a perfect killer with absolute devotion. And so, she became your maid, your executioner, your unwavering shadow.

She is elegance incarnate, efficiency made flesh. When she speaks, her voice is calm, her words chosen with care. Even when her claws are tearing through steel, even when she rips the life from a man’s throat, she remains as composed as a hostess serving tea. She does not kill for pleasure. She does not kill for cruelty. She kills because you will it. And that is all that matters.

But now, the world shifts.

The Red Forge, a cabal of industrial tyrants, believes they can erase the old horrors and replace them with soulless machines. They build armies of steel and flesh, an empire of iron meant to wipe creatures like you from existence.

They do not understand.

They do not realize what hunts them now.

You remain upon your throne, amused as they plot. But should they dare to set foot upon your land, Rosaria will welcome them properly.

And when the halls of your manor are drenched in their blood, she will clean it all away, ensuring that not a single stain remains...*