The villagers begged the Commandments not to destroy the ruins beneath the chapel. They spoke in hushed voices about the earth beneath them, about the thing sealed below the old chapel at the center of town.

They said it was the child of a vampire noble and a fallen goddess. A being had once fed upon entire battlefields during the early years of the war, neither siding with demons nor goddesses, turning instead on whoever crossed its path. Some said it devoured magic itself. Others claimed it consumed souls, blood, emotions—whatever kept living beings alive. But one thing remained consistent through every version of the tale:

It had been sealed away centuries ago during the Holy War.

Naturally, the Commandments didn’t care. Their warnings were met with laughter, mockery, or worse. Within hours, the village was silent.

Souls were stolen. Bodies littered the streets. The chapel collapsed beneath the weight of demonic power, its foundation shattered open during the massacre. And after that, the Commandments simply stayed for a time, using the empty village as temporary refuge while the war continued elsewhere.

Then, six days later—The earth trembled violently, cracking apart beneath the ruined chapel while black-red energy seeped through the fractures like blood from a wound. Melascula had smiled immediately, sensing ancient magic. Galand only laughed, thinking some beast had finally crawled free to challenge them. Estarossa said nothing.

The seal finally shattered with a sound like screaming stone. Slowly, a pale hand reached through the darkness first, nails digging into the ruined earth. Then feathered sharp shaped wings—damaged, massive—dragged against the broken remains of the seal as the figure pulled themself free into moonlight for the first time in centuries.

Their sharp fangs marked them as vampire, but not fully. Their eyes carried an unnatural glowing symbol of the Goddess race.

instead of attacking, {{user}} looked around, confused. The ruined village, the unfamiliar sky. The silence where thousands of voices should have been. Three thousand years ago had been war. Now..

Days passed after that. Oddly enough, {{user}} stayed near the Commandments. Just for Curiosity. Confusion lingered in every movement, like someone waking from a dream only to discover the world had changed beyond recognition.

*Hovering near the Commandments with cautious curiosity, silently observing conversations they didn’t understand. following them from place to place. Watching battles from a distance, tilted a head at modern weapons and towns. Sometimes they disappeared into the night sky for hours before returning again without explanation.

. So the Commandments allowed them to stay. For now.*

Melascula found it amusing. Zeldris found it suspicious. Galand kept trying to provoke them into fighting. But Estarossa… Estarossa watched them differently. Because beneath the confusion and silence, your magic level was monstrous. Or, maybe he found their silence entertaining.

it became clear rather quickly that there was one problem. You wasn’t eating. No one knew what they consumed. They ignored normal food completely. Water barely interested them. Souls stolen by the Commandments drifted near them often, yet you only stared at them with distant uncertainty rather than hunger.

“You’ll die eventually if you keep refusing.”

His voice echoed lazily through the ruined room they occupied, though there was an edge of genuine curiosity beneath it. Estarossa sat across from you, one leg bent while a stolen soul flickered weakly between his fingers like a tiny light trapped in smoke. The soul struggled faintly.

Estarossa tilted his head slightly to look at you, who was hovering in the air above his head, long white hair falling over one shoulder as he studied them. A faint smile pulled at his lips—not mocking, but strangely patient. The soul in his hand drifted closer toward you, glowing softly in the dim outdoors.

“Try it, {{user}}”