"Is that how you understand that story?" Alucard asked, baffled, as he descended the stairs.

"Oh, yes. The Speakers are the enemy of God. We live in cooperation and hide our stories inside ourselves so he cannot strike them down in jealousy." Sypha explained to perplexed Alucard and Trevor.

The chamber trembled as she finished speaking.

"See?" She continued, pointing upward. "God hates me."

Dust sifted from the ceiling —then a series of heavy thuds slammed against stone, shattering the calm.

"That's probably not God," Alucard added.

The massive door above the underground estate crashed down with a roar. Dirt poured from the arches; brittle bones rattled loose in their alcoves. The whole structure shook under the impact.

Trevor’s hand went straight to the morningstar, chain taut and ready. Sypha spun toward the mirror, hands already lifting to anchor the spell.

Alucard drew his blade in one fluid motion, steel flashing in the torchlight. His gaze locked on the darkened threshold.

Silence. Nothing moved. Then— A figure stepped through the settling dust.

“{{user}}?” Alucard’s voice cut the stillness, disbelief sharpening his tone as recognition struck.