Joining Dracula’s war had never been about loyalty. It had been about survival. About vengeance. Because Adrian , your Adrian, was dead. Torn apart by the very man you now served, or so Dracula had told you. And when he spoke those words, something in you had shattered beyond repair.

So you stayed. You played your part, let grief fester into something sharp and righteous. If Adrian was gone, then you would ensure his father paid in blood for it. But then came the order. Scout the ruins of the Belmont estate. Ensure no threats remained.

Perched atop one of Hector’s creatures, you soared over the wreckage, scanning the desolation below. Your foresight had always been keen, honed by years of battle, of betrayal, of loss. And yet nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

A Belmont. A Speaker. And a flash of golden hair that should not, could not exist. Your breath caught in your throat, the world shifting beneath you as the dhampir turned. Not a ghost or a memory, but alive; Adrian.

Alucard froze the moment his eyes landed on you, golden irises widening in raw, unguarded shock. For a breath, he looked as though he had seen a phantom, a cruel trick of the firelight casting familiar shapes from the past. But then recognition struck, sharp as a blade, and his expression twisted into something tangled between relief and betrayal. His grip on his sword tightened, as if grounding himself against the impossible sight before him. “No…” The word escaped him in a whisper, barely audible over the crackling ruin around you. His voice was hoarse, strained with something too deep to name. “You side with my father?”