---
Dracula and Detta chased after the mysterious woman. They had killed Darys after interrogating her.
She didn't know much about the woman herself, but she did know the truth behind the orb.
The orb was a key—one that could unlock the Celestial Island, the place where the Goddess resided after sealing both the Lord of Light and the Lord of Darkness.
It was said the seal containing them could grant any wish to whoever possessed it.
"You don't know what you're up against."
Darys' final warning echoed in Dracula's mind.
"How many miles until we catch up with her, Drac?" asked Detta, doing her best to keep up with his pace.
It had been three days since they started the chase, believing the woman was somehow linked to the Paisley.
Their path now led straight toward the city where everything had begun for both of them—Tanna City.
Once hailed as the Empire's greatest victory over the Abyss, the official tale painted Tanna as the battleground where demonic forces tried to take the city and failed. The Empire had struck before the demons could finish setting up camp, driving them back in a sweeping triumph.
But the truth was far darker.
Tanna lay near the edge of the Weeping Plane—on the far side of the Abyssal Crack. There was no way the demonic forces could have advanced that far into Imperial territory without help. Unless... it was intentional.
The Empire used the city as bait.
As they lost ground at the front, the Imperial forces fell back in three main contingents. They did not warn Tanna. No evacuation. No message. The city—once generous in support, feeding soldiers, tending to the wounded, and sending its youth to fight—was abandoned.
Dracula's father, a warrior from Tanna, had been one of those valiant soldiers. A man capable of cutting down whole squadrons of demonic creatures on his own.
When he learned of the plan to sacrifice the city—to serve it up to the demons as a false victory—he rebelled. Together with Betta, Detta's father, he deserted the army in defiance of the 3rd Imperial General's orders.
They tried to return and warn Tanna.
They were too late.
Demons were already inside.
They fought with everything they had, saving as many civilians as they could. But the tide could not be turned. The city was overrun.
Leading the assault was the Blood Demon, known to most as the Enchantress.
She killed them both.
While the demons celebrated, the Empire struck again—cutting off their escape. Trapped, the demonic forces fought to the last, buying time for their commander—one of the Demon King's lieutenants—to flee.
The Empire erased Tanna from the map, annihilating the city and nearly all its inhabitants by blasting it with a huge man bomb.
Only a handful survived.
After the so-called "victory," a guilt-stricken Maestro took in young Dracula, raising him to be a model soldier. And it worked—until Dracula uncovered the truth with help from his peers at the academy.
He waited. He endured.
When he finally graduated, free of the Empire's leash, his revenge began.
He started by assassinating the corrupt official who had proposed the plan.
But even as vengeance fueled him, he never forgot his true enemy—Alice the Enchantress.
---
Memories washed over him as they passed through the ruins.
Detta, too, stared at the broken city with teary eyes. Her father, Betta, was buried somewhere beneath the rubble.
She remembered it all—the flames, the screams, her father's desperate voice calling her name among the chaos.
And after the war, the scorn. The discrimination she faced as the daughter of a deserter. Forced to survive on the streets—until Dracula began sharing his allowance from Maestro to help her.
She trained with Dracula, learning everything he knew till she became what she is .
She never forgot that kindness.
They moved quickly past the ruins. Staying too long would only reopen old wounds.
With fresh resolve, they headed northeast—toward the territory ruled by the Ducal families of Rosa Alba.
---
"I'm Franklin, the wandering swordsman—at your service,"
he said with a bow, lips gently brushing the hand of a woman cloaked in black.
"I—I'm not looking for any service. I'm here to treat the wounded," she stammered, pulling her hand away.
Franklin straightened, his long, wavy hair cascading as he brushed it aside.
"I know a noblewoman when I see one," he said with a knowing smile. "I once served nobility, you know."
At that moment, someone stumbled into her from behind, knocking her to the ground and revealing her face.
Heart-shaped and smooth as silk, her features glowed with quiet beauty. Her long, almond-colored hair was tied back neatly, adorned with a jeweled scrunchie.
"Look at this lass! She's covered in coin," shouted the drunken man who'd bumped her.
"Let's strip her bare—see what she's hiding under that hood!" yelled another.
"Cease this utter foolishness at once! That is no way to treat a lady," Franklin snapped, stepping between them.
"Piss off, you wimp. You don't belong here," one of them sneered, drawing a sword.
"I shall defend her honor, even if it costs me my life," declared Franklin, unsheathing his rapier.
The hilt shimmered in the light— which was shaped like a white rose.
---