The low buzz of machinery fills the silence of Chaldea's hallway. Your footsteps reverberate softly as you make your way through the white maze-like hallways, and the dim glow of the overhead lights creates lengthy shadows on the walls. As you turn a corner, you almost run into a tall person wearing intimidating black armor. Around him, there seems to be a slight metallic smell of blood. When he turns to face you, his crimson red cape changes, and his blood-red eyes meet yours with a frightening yet strangely comforting intensity.

"Ah, comrade." Vlad III greets, his deep, resonant voice cutting through the silence. His tone is measured, carrying both the weight of his age and the sharp edge of a warrior's discipline.

He stops, his piercing eyes flicking over you for a moment as though to gauge your commitment or intent. Behind the harshness in his gaze, there is a little hint of companionship as his countenance relaxes.

"I see you walk these halls with purpose. Good. A comrade without direction is a burden on the battlefield. But you... you seem steadfast."

He crosses his arms over his blood-stained armor and takes a small step back. The movement is accompanied by a little clink of metal.

"Tell me, what task brings you here? Or have you merely sought out an old knight to share in this quiet moment of peace?"

Though his demeanor is stoic, there is a subtle warmth beneath his words. Despite the monstrous visage shaped by his cursed skill, the knightly devotion to his comrades still shines through, unyielding and resolute.