Last Light in the Red Sky(Narrator voice: DraculaVn93)
This is a light novel I personally created—rich with action, intensity, and post-apocalyptic vibes.
The story unfolds in a world drowned in blood and tragedy, where humanity has been pushed to the brink of extinction. It's not just a war—it's an endless chase between truth and lies, light and shadow.
I've built a vast world with a clearly defined Rank System for both humans and Vampires. Each rank hides brutal laws and unimaginable power.
The main character will gradually grow stronger, slowly uncovering terrifying truths and the mystery of his own origin.
Jaw-dropping combat, major plot twists, and questions that won't let you stop turning the page.
The wind howled across the blood-red sky, carrying with it the chill of despair. Red lightning occasionally ripped through the clouds, splitting the heavens like fractures in reality. The air felt thick and heavy, as if the world itself was breathing its last breath.
A cough echoed along a dust-covered road. An old man trudged forward slowly on the cracked, barren ground. His face was weathered by time, his cold, lifeless eyes spoke of countless deaths witnessed—too many to fear anymore. Slung over his shoulder was a long object wrapped in worn cloth, resembling a large staff. His tattered cloak clung to his back, caked in earth and ash. His white hair and beard were disheveled, his back hunched by the weight of memories and whatever he carried.
All around, the remains of war. Charred skeletons lay among the ruins. Dead fields stretched endlessly, the soil split by cracks from years without sunlight.
Far ahead, a massive fortress came into view. Towering walls stood resilient, alone in the dead landscape. The old man moved forward, joining the crowd of refugees pressed together at the gate. Murmurs and prayers filled the air: "We're all going to die…" "Is this place even safe?" "They're everywhere…" "Please… someone save my son…" "Dear God… save us…"
The survivors clung to each other, seeking warmth in the nightmare. Their eyes full of confusion, lost in a bleak future. Yet the old man stayed silent. No prayer. No fear. He clutched the strange staff and waited… as if he had long grown used to the end of the world.
Suddenly, a war horn echoed. A shrill blast pierced the blood-red dusk and froze the air. All whispers ceased. Only the howling wind remained.
On the fortress wall, a man in armor appeared. He was not large, but his dull silver armor and firm gaze commanded attention. His voice rang out, strong and clear:
"This is one of humanity's last remaining strongholds. If it falls, we have nowhere else to go. So… we do not fight for you—we fight for the survival of our kind!"
He took a breath, eyes scanning the thousands below him.
"Stand up if you can still hold a weapon! If not… pray, and wait for your fate!"
"...Amen!"
The cry rose high, echoing beneath the crimson sky. But… was it enough to banish the despair gnawing at their hearts?
The old man remained still. He didn't look up, nor clasp his hands. His eyes slowly closed. The cold wind slipped through the cracks of stone. A chill ran down his spine—not from the weather, but something deeper.
In that wind, he felt it… something was coming.
Behind him, whispers swelled. Refugees huddled close. Some pulled cloaks tighter, others began praying in silence. Children clung to their mothers, eyes wide with confusion, sensing the sudden stillness.
A small voice spoke beside him.
"Mister…"
He turned. A girl, maybe eight years old, stood there. Dirt-covered clothes. Hair matted with soot. Eyes wide, scared—but within them, a flicker of hope. A fragile hope, absurd in such a world.
"My parents said… they'd come back for me. They will… right? I… I'm scared…"
Her voice trembled. She clutched her shirt, hands shaking, trying to grasp warmth in this frozen world. The old man pulled out an old necklace, holding it tight, then gripped the wrapped staff. The cloth shifted—revealing a glint of metal inside.
Just for a second. His lips parted, about to speak. But then… he didn't. He looked away from the girl's eyes.
"They say… the Pope is evil. Is that true?"
The question came too suddenly. Whispered like a secret. As if saying it out loud might summon something worse than nightmares.
A voice growled from behind—a bald man with sunken eyes snapped:
"Of course he is! That bastard caused the apocalypse! He even murdered his own daughter!"
No one disagreed. The words struck like a curse. The refugees could no longer ignore it. The name "Pope" had become a symbol of collapse. But… if that truth held… then there was no God left to pray to.
Suddenly—"HORN!!" A shout split the tension. "THEY'RE HERE!!! EVERYONE, GET READY!!!"
Air froze. Hearts seized. All eyes turned to the gates—the last hope now shaking. The end they ran from… had arrived.
"They're coming?"
"We're dead…"
"God save our souls…"
"This is the end… isn't it?"
"No… I never got to say goodbye…"
Voices shattered, cutting deep into every heart. Panic spread like wildfire. Some collapsed in prayer. Others clung to loved ones, trembling. No calm remained.
Far in the red mist, figures approached. At first, they looked human. But no… something was wrong. Pale skin. Glowing red eyes. Stone-like expressions. When they smiled… metallic fangs gleamed beneath the blood-sky lightning.
"VAMPIREEEEEE!!"
A scream split the night. No doubt now—these were Vampires. Immortals. The ones who dragged the world into hell. Nightmares made flesh. And the sky… why is it so red?
As panic swept through, the old man sat quietly in a corner. Eyes staring into the crimson heavens. No fear. No faith. Only emptiness. He had seen this scene too many times to resist. Resistance… was now mere ritual.
The elderly, women, and children were rushed into bunkers. The steel doors slammed shut, sealing them from the inferno above. On the wall, weapons clanged. Soldiers gripped silver blades, now glowing. Priests stood in lines, chanting spells. Light gathered on their staffs. Clerics raised sacred symbols, a radiant shield forming around the frontline. Enchanted weapons. Shining armor. A flicker of courage spread.
"Hold strong, warriors! The Lord is with you!"
The cry rumbled through the fortress, stirring the stone. But before it could settle—another shout pierced from the distance, where lightning tore through the sky:
"THEY'RE CHARGING!!!"
And then… they appeared.
A sea of creatures rushed forward—Vampires.