The eastern wing of Drake Manor proved no less extravagant than the ballroom they had just left.
Elegant sitting rooms stretched into one another, connected by broad corridors lined with paintings and polished marble columns. Servants moved quietly among the assembled guests carrying trays laden with wine and expensive hors d'oeuvres.
The atmosphere remained almost unnaturally peaceful.
Hundreds of men and women chatted cheerfully, discussing investments, politics, and social gossip, completely oblivious to the fact that the heavy oak doors behind them had quietly been locked.
No one questioned why they had been separated; no one even seemed particularly curious. To them, everything unfolding tonight felt perfectly reasonable.
Alexander exchanged a brief glance with Blade.
The Daywalker remained expressionless, though Alexander knew he was carefully watching every movement around them.
Hannibal appeared equally relaxed, casually leaning against one of the walls while quietly studying the servants.
Only Roland still stood unnaturally still as his normally sharp gaze had become distant.
Alexander waited several seconds, ensuring nobody nearby paid them any attention, before stepping beside his butler and muttering, "I'm not sure if this will hurt, but if it does... Forgive me, Roland..."
His hand settled lightly upon Roland's shoulder, and a faint current of Spirit Energy flowed between them.
Alexander had never attempted something like this before, but he was confident that his Spirit Energy should be able to gently disturb the lingering supernatural influence clouding Roland's thoughts.
For several long moments, nothing happened, but then Roland inhaled sharply.
His fingers twitched, and another slow breath followed.
The unfocused look gradually disappeared from his eyes before finally giving way to their usual clarity, "Master Alexander..."
His expression immediately became one of quiet embarrassment, "My deepest apologies. I allowed myself to become compromised."
Alexander simply shook his head and said, "Don't worry... You resisted far longer than anyone else."
Blade quietly nodded and agreed, "He did."
The vampire hunter folded his arms and added, "That wasn't one vampire trying to break your mind. It was dozens. Most people wouldn't have lasted half as long."
Roland accepted the explanation with a slight inclination of his head, but even so, Alexander could tell the old butler remained dissatisfied with himself.
Alexander considered offering further reassurance but stopped himself. Roland's pride had never been rooted in arrogance. It came from decades of unwavering competence, from a lifetime spent ensuring that no mistake reached his master's doorstep. To have his mind compromised, even through supernatural means beyond ordinary resistance, was something the old butler would not easily forgive in himself.
Fortunately, there would be time to address that later. At present, dwelling on wounded pride served neither of them.
The four quietly drifted toward one of the less populated corridors.
Satisfied they were finally alone, Roland spoke first, "I believe we should withdraw."
Nobody interrupted him as he continued, "Our objective was Deacon Frost. What we discovered instead..."
He glanced back toward the ballroom and said, "...Was Dracula."
Silence lingered, and even Alexander couldn't immediately argue while he thought, 'He isn't wrong.. Finding Deacon Frost had already been dangerous enough, but finding the King of Vampires himself... That has never entered my calculations. However, we also can't retreat; if we leave such enemies free to act, they will surely cause countless problems. Yet now Dracula has entered the picture, and he is a legendary figure; I'm not sure if we can actually overcome him...'
Eventually Alexander looked toward Blade and asked, "Can Dracula actually be killed...?"
Blade blinked once, then shrugged and said, "Sure."
Three pairs of eyes turned toward him as he casually added, "I've already killed him before."
Silence.
Alexander frowned and repeated, "...Killed?"
Blade nodded as though discussing the weather, "Hmn... Three times."
"...Three?"
"He just keeps coming back."
Hannibal rubbed the bridge of his nose before he explained, "What Blade means is that Dracula has an incredibly irritating habit of refusing to stay dead for long."
Blade simply gave a single nod.
There was no trace of boasting in his expression. If anything, he sounded faintly inconvenienced, as though Dracula's repeated resurrections were little more than an especially persistent pest.
Alexander wasn't sure which possibility was more unsettling: that someone as legendary as Dracula could be killed or that Blade had done so often enough to treat it as routine.
The tension eased ever so slightly and even Roland allowed himself the faintest smile.
Blade continued while pulling out one of his silver knives, "He's flesh. Like every vampire."
He checked the blade's edge before continuing, "Stake. Silver. Faith. Sunlight. Enough damage. All of those are still effective against him."
Another pause before he concluded, "He is harder but not impossible."
Alexander quietly absorbed the information.
There was something almost peculiar about the way Blade spoke of Dracula. No hatred or fear, only the calm respect reserved for an opponent who had survived countless battles.
Hannibal eventually folded several maps together before he said, "Our objective hasn't actually changed."
Everyone looked toward him.
"We came here intending to destroy a gathering of vampires. Well..." He smiled wryly before continuing, "...We found one. Granted, it turned out to be considerably larger than expected."
Blade nodded and commented, "If anything, tonight became a better opportunity."
Alexander remained silent for several moments before slowly nodding and saying, "Then we continue..."
Only a handful of guards watched over the eastern wing, and none expected resistance from guests peacefully enjoying refreshments.
That confidence proved fatal.
Blade moved first. One moment a vampire stood watching the corridor, and the next a silver knife silently opened his throat.
Before the body even reached the floor, Hannibal caught it and stabbed it with a wooden stake before easing it behind a decorative curtain.
Another guard turned at the faint sound. Another wooden stake buried itself in his chest before he could utter a single word.
The last attempted to flee, but Blade intercepted him halfway down the corridor, and one precise strike later, silence returned in the corridor.
Alexander stared for a moment before he muttered, "That was quite efficient."
Blade merely retrieved his stake and said, "We've done this before."
Assignments came quickly.
Hannibal tucked several silver stakes beneath his jacket and declared, "If Frost runs... I'll make sure that he won't get far."
Without another word, he disappeared toward the estate's outer grounds.
Roland received his own task, "I'll retrieve the sedan."
He paused and added, "And to facilitate ourselves in the case of a possible pursuit, I'll create several... inconveniences."
Alexander smiled faintly while asking, "The expensive kind?"
Roland returned the smallest of smiles and replied, "I believe several engines may develop unfortunate mechanical difficulties."
A few minutes of delay, nothing more, but sometimes that was enough.
Finally only Blade and Alexander remained. Neither spoke before both simply returned toward the ballroom.
They arrived unnoticed upon an upper gallery overlooking the gathering below.
The atmosphere had changed.
Every vampire stood silently; even Deacon Frost had abandoned his theatrical smile, and at the centre of it all was Dracula.
He stood with perfect composure, hands folded neatly behind his back.
His voice remained calm and measured, "My kin. For centuries we have endured. We have survived kings. Empires. Religions. We adapted. We hid. And because we endured, we continue to exist."
His crimson gaze slowly passed across those assembled, "Humanity believes itself the master of this world. They mistake numbers for strength. They mistake progress for wisdom. They celebrate every new invention while remaining blissfully unaware of the darkness standing beside them."
A faint smile crossed his face, "No. Our greatest enemy has never been mankind."
Silence.
"It has always been ourselves."
Not a single voice interrupted.
"For centuries... We divided ourselves. Clan against clan. Elder against elder. Species against Species. Ancient feuds. Worthless pride. Petty ambition. We weakened ourselves more effectively than any hunter ever could."
Alexander listened carefully while thinking, 'This isn't madness nor blind arrogance. It is a political argument. One frighteningly rational.'
"I offer another path." Dracula slowly extended one hand as he continued, "One kingdom. One court. One people. Not merely vampires but one formed of every creature willing to embrace the night. We need not conquer mankind but only outlive it. We have always excelled at patience."
His smile returned, "When humanity finally lowers its guard... Darkness shall inherit the world once more!"
Silence followed, but not hesitant silence, a respectful one.
Dracula slowly surveyed the assembled elders and said, "If any among you opposes this vision... Speak."
No applause followed his speech, as such theatrics would have cheapened the moment.
Instead, heads inclined in silent acknowledgement. Elders exchanged measured glances with one another while younger vampires stood almost motionless, awaiting the judgement of those who had survived centuries longer than themselves.
Alexander noticed something else, that not a single vampire appeared eager to be the first voice raised against the King of Vampires.
"I vote nay."
Every head turned simultaneously toward Blade, who stood alone within the ballroom entrance, perfectly still.
Dracula smiled and greeted him like some old friend, "Daywalker. It has indeed been some time since our last encounter."
Blade's voice remained flat as he replied, "Not nearly enough."
Elsewhere within the gathering, Deacon Frost quietly smiled while thinking, 'Perfect. Exactly as planned. The ancient king and the legendary hunter facing each other once again...'
He subtly stepped backwards through the crowd, but nobody paid him the slightest attention as they were all focused on Blade.
Several younger vampires, unable to tolerate Blade's tone and presence, rushed him together.
Blade moved in response.
The first collapsed before finishing his first step. The second received a silver blade across the throat, directly cutting off his head. The third reached him only for a wooden stake to pierce his heart.
A fourth attempted to strike from behind, but Blade pivoted, and his sword flashed once.
The headless vampire crumpled lifelessly onto the marble floor.
Barely three seconds had passed, and silence engulfed the ballroom once more.
Alexander, who hid himself in the upper gallery, understood immediately that this was the result of decades of experience distilled into instinct.
Blade looked upward.
It was a tiny movement, almost imperceptible, but Alexander recognised it instantly because it was the signal they agreed beforehand.
He quietly summoned a card from the YGO System's Card Database, which quickly appeared between his fingers.
Then he spent 25 Duel Energy and muttered with a mischievous smile, "I summon you... Ray & Temperature. Shine brightly!"
The card shone brightly before it shattered and a surge of Spirit Energy exploded outwardly, but before the vampires below could react, a tiny red sphere no larger than a child's head materialised above the gallery.
Warm currents of air spiralled playfully around its smiling face.
For one brief moment, the little Duel Spirit simply floated there, then it shone.
Golden sunlight exploded across the ballroom, and the effect was immediate.
Screams erupted from every direction as the elegant composure vanished in an instant.
Vampires hurled themselves behind marble columns, overturned banquet tables, and even one another in desperate attempts to escape the merciless radiance. Crystal goblets shattered across the polished floor as guests collided in blind panic, while servants, many now revealing their own monstrous nature, burned where they stood before they could even comprehend what had happened.
The carefully orchestrated gathering dissolved into survival.
Every instinct of predator and aristocrat alike gave way to the same primal fear.
Younger vampires burst into flames almost instantly, their bodies collapsing into drifting ash before they fully understood what had happened.
Ancient vampires endured only moments longer. Their elegant appearances disintegrated as skin blackened, cracked, and peeled away, revealing the withered corpses hidden beneath centuries of unnatural vitality.
The orderly court dissolved into absolute chaos.
Dracula did not perish immediately.
He stood motionless within the blazing light, his flesh charring, his regal garments igniting, his noble features shrinking into the face of an ancient corpse.
Then, for the first time that evening, he moved toward the shadows, toward escape, toward safety, but Blade had already anticipated it.
He sprinted forward the instant the sunlight filled the hall, closing the distance in seconds before a wooden stake drove cleanly through Dracula's heart.
The ancient king froze.
Blade leaned forward only slightly and muttered, "Let's hope this one lasts..."
Dracula's body collapsed.
Elsewhere, hidden from the worst of the light, Deacon Frost watched the scene unfold with quiet satisfaction, 'Hahaha! Perfect...'
Frost barely suppressed a laugh while thinking, 'Years of preparation, months of careful manipulation, whispered promises to ambitious elders and subtle provocations directed at ancient rivals... All of it had led to this single moment. Dracula had revealed himself. Blade had taken the bait.'
Watching the old order collapsing beneath an artificial sun, Deacon smirked, 'Thank you, King. Thank you, Daywalker. Neither of you ever realised you were playing my game.'
Without sparing another glance toward the burning ballroom, he turned around and slipped into one of the manor's hidden passages.
At the same time, Blade immediately noticed and yelled, "Frost!"
Ignoring every surviving vampire still struggling beneath the artificial sunlight, he launched himself after his true quarry.
Alexander followed without hesitation.
Behind them, Dracula's grand vision for a united kingdom of darkness crumbled into panic, ash, and betrayal.
Neither of them realised that this apparent triumph had merely completed the first step of Deacon Frost's true design.
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