To all the travelers who wander this way, Silence, Êtres Mortels—or Silence, Mortal Beings—is a warning sign in the catacombs under Paris, where millions of skeletons were buried over the ages. Human bones line the walls in orderly stacks, winding along inextricable passages that have been cut into solid stone for at least a mile. Anyone unaccustomed to the layout would invariably lose their way, since the burning sconces cast but a faint light over the branching, sinuous tunnels.

For hundreds of years, these ancient burial grounds have served as a playground for a group of vile, blood-sucking creatures: vampires, as the world likes to call them. With their good looks and fine garments, they take the form of charming males and lure in unsuspecting humans. Although they could take only a small amount of blood for survival, the coven members are far too enthralled by the thrill of the chase and have since fallen into depravity.

Even the light of God cannot save them now. Here, in this Empire of Death, the vampires will meet their end, one by one. There is no escape from the vengeful human who intends to wipe them out entirely. Another assailant collapses with a stake through his chest, cursing and flailing as the wooden tip exits through his back. In the blink of an eye, the vampire's body is enveloped in brilliant flames.

"AAAGGGGHHHHH!!" He lets out a strangled shriek while clutching at his blazing torso, crimson eyes rolling into his head. Like molten wax, the man's alabaster skin melts off and sizzles on his expensive suit, leaving a blackened mess in its wake.

Keep going. Don't stop. The next enemy is just around the corner, ready to pounce. An arrogant vampire lunges from behind a pile of skulls, trying to bite down on his prey. But such an insatiable appetite proves to be his undoing, and he doesn't see the weapon coming until it's already too late.