Jasen and Saya traveled for weeks through mountain regions and shadowed valleys, seeking the one person Jasen hoped could help connect the threads between the vampire legacy and the ever-growing threat of the B.O.W. outbreaks—Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes, known more commonly as Alucard. They followed whispers of sightings across the old world, clues buried beneath centuries of vampire hunter lore and occult records. A month passed, and just when Jasen began to doubt the trail, they found him.
Alucard stood beneath the broken archway of an ancient church, his long coat billowing in the wind, silver blade still warm from battle. Two others stood with him, a woman with fierce green eyes and a whip adorned in runes, and a man with short brown hair, battle-worn but alert, holding a pair of blessed blades. Jasen could see it immediately—they were Belmonts.
The enemy, a vampire lord known as Varick, had escaped through a veil of shadow and fire, leaving behind only ash and a few corrupted familiars. After ensuring they weren't under immediate threat, introductions were made.
"I'm Jasen," he said. "And this is Saya. We came looking for you, Alucard." Alucard narrowed his eyes when he looked at Saya. "You... you're not like the others." Saya, ever wary, crossed her arms. "What's the problem?"
"No disrespect," Alucard replied calmly. "It's just... surprising to see a living relic. A mutant breed of vampire, rare to the point of extinction. Your kind shouldn't exist anymore."
Saya's gaze hardened. "I'm not the last." Jasen caught the meaning behind her words. Saya had once mentioned she had a twin sister now long dead—but her legacy, perhaps through children, lived on.
He stepped forward. "We didn't come here to stir up history. We need your help, Alucard. Privately." The dhampir nodded and led Jasen away from the Belmonts. Once alone near the remnants of a ruined monastery wall, Jasen spoke.
"The world is changing. The viruses... Umbrella... it's all spiraling. And it won't be long before monsters born of man and ancient things start overlapping." Alucard's expression remained unreadable. "You aren't wrong. The equilibrium is failing. This world is teetering on the edge of collapse, and many of the ancient evils slumbering beneath our reality are starting to stir."
Jasen leaned closer. "Tell me what you know. Please. About the flower. The Progenitor plant." Alucard inhaled slowly, as if recalling something buried deep in his memory. "It is not a flower. Not truly. What Umbrella found in that West African cave is an echo—a fragment from another plane."
Jasen's brow furrowed. "You mean the demon world."
Alucard nodded. "Yes. The plant Umbrella cultivates is a mutated offshoot of flora from the demon realm—a place that was once whole but was split in half eons ago. The plant is a conduit, capable of bridging essence between planes. In the demon world, it's common. It grows near rivers of blood and soil made of ancient bones. Here, it's rare. Dangerous. The human body is too frail to withstand its gifts. But when it bonds with certain genetic traits... then you get the mutations."
"The viruses," Jasen said slowly. "All of it and more." "Derived from that ancient plant," Alucard confirmed. "But there's more. That flower was once cultivated by the House of Mundus, a demonic noble who fought your Sparda." Jasen's blood chilled at the name. "Mundus. The one who tried to open the gate?"
"He did more than try," Alucard said. "He ruled this Earth once. Until Sparda cast him back. The plant was his gift to his armies a way to enhance their strength, grow soldiers. Sparda learned to use it against him. Your strain of I can smell the faint trances of the plant on you? It mimics what Sparda's bloodline could naturally access."
"And Saya?" Alucard looked toward her. "Saya is a miracle and a tragedy. Born not of natural vampire blood but of a mutation or call it evolution if you want to. Sometimes with monster's and nature it's hard to tell. She is proof that vampire bloodlines can still evolve, even now."
"What about the Belmont's?" Alucard folded his arms and paused looking at them. "Still the best we have but not our only option." Alucard said. "But they aren't ready for what's coming."
Jasen stared at the sky. "So what do we do?" Alucard turned to him, his voice low. "We gather what remains of the old bloodlines—Belmonts, and other's talented to become hunter's of the supernatural. Combine them with your anti-B.O.W. forces. Build a force that can fight the new horror you human's have unleashed on this world."
" That means your on board then?" "For now," Alucard replied. "But know this, Jasen. The world will not wait for you to be ready. Even now as we speak more horror's are beginning move. Racoon City was just the beginning. "
Jasen nodded. He turned back toward the Belmonts and Saya, a new sense of purpose forming in his heart. "I know I just hope we are ready for what comes next."
The sterile white of the Slayer HQ's private U.S. cleared base didn't suit Jasen. He laid half naked on reinforced operating table, muscles tensed, as another needle pierced his arm. His jaw clenched.
"Another vial," one of the techs muttered.
Annette stood behind the reinforced glass, overseeing the tests while jotting notes on a digital pad. Beside her, Alucard's tall form loomed, his sharp eyes scanning the charts like they were an old tome he'd read a thousand times before.
"This is… remarkable," Alucard said in his smooth, centuries-worn voice. "He has traces of demon DNA in his system now, blended with his human half. And that half has been enhanced by the virus." Annette turned, surprised. "You can read this? You understand demon biology?"
Alucard's faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Spend a few generations working alongside a family of monster hunters and live for centuries—you learn a thing or two. The blood patterns… the way it regenerates, it suggests something fascinating. If I'm not mistaken, the more he is injured and recovers… the stronger he could become."
Annette blinked. "Adaptive healing that makes him tougher each time? That's almost… terrifying." "Useful," Alucard corrected. "But dangerous, if left unchecked." She stared at him, intrigued. "I thought you were just a swordsman. Maybe some of that old-world magic. But this?"
Alucard chuckled softly, eyes glowing faintly gold for a moment. "I can do a great deal, Ms. Birkin. A very long life does that to you." Annette looked away, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "I'd love to pick your brain about demons and monsters… and use your notes for our research." Alucard tilted his head in polite agreement. "Consider it done."
From the next room, Jasen's voice cut through the intercom, sharp and irritated. "I can hear you two from in here. Stop flirting and finish this damn test. I'm tired of getting poked and prodded and being stared at like a stripper. Doesn't help that I'm half-baked, either!" Alucard's laugh rolled through the room.
Later that day, Jasen sat in the base's break room, clothes back on but irritation still etched on his face. The hum of fluorescent lights was the only sound until his phone buzzed. Mary's voice came through, sharp and to the point. "We've established the shop. It's in the town where the Temen-ni-gru is supposed to appear. Dante and Saya are already scouting the area."
"Good," Jasen said, sipping stale coffee. "Keep a close eye on the seal. Remember—you have to let them open it." There was a pause, then Mary's voice hardened. "I still don't get it. Why let Vergil and Arkham get what they want what's the point?"
Jasen leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Because there's a weapon there. Something Dante will need—and something we'll need. It's a necessary risk."
Mary's tone stayed skeptical. "I don't trust those devils." Jasen smirked faintly. "Dante's half-devil. And one of the kindest people you'll meet." "That's hard to believe," Mary muttered. "Call Jessica Monroe," Jasen said, referencing the VP's sharp assistant. "She'll tell you. He's rough around the edges, but Dante's good."
Mary didn't sound convinced. "Whatever. I'll check in later." The line clicked dead Jasen rubbed his face, exhaustion creeping in. He reached for his phone again and called Jill. The dial tone rang long… then straight to voicemail.
He swallowed, his voice soft but edged with worry. "Jill… please be okay." Miles away, Jill sat in her bathroom, the sound of the dripping faucet deafening in the silence. She was leaning over the edge of the tub, tears streaking her face, clutching a small plastic stick with trembling hands.
A pregnancy test. Her voice was barely a whisper. "What am I gonna do?"