3. You Vampires Just Can't Stop Chasing Headlines
Dracula half-lidded his eyes and glanced sideways at the group of uninvited guests.
The one in front—a middle-aged vampire with a face like an aging playboy—let out a sinister chuckle.
"Heh heh heh heh… Esteemed Blood King, you've just been resurrected. You must be terribly weak right now. Not surprising, really. That war centuries ago must have drained you dry, right? This castle—once so terrifying—is now a lifeless husk. No undead, no defenses. This… is the opportunity Heaven has granted me. Once I absorb your power, I, Scarr, will become the mightiest vampire—no, the mightiest god. The God of Blood! Gahahahahaha!"
Dracula looked at the man with an expression of deep, almost sympathetic concern—as if watching a particularly misguided child. Then he muttered to the system:
"Hey, you sure about this? My so-called world-saving mission is to deal with a bunch of low-IQ clowns like these?"
[W-well… he may seem like a total idiot, but he's actually a very ambitious vampire with dreams, you know.]
There was a pause before the system continued:
[I misled him—on purpose. Made him think you were in a weakened state after barely surviving the Heaven-Hell war. Plus, now that you've slaughtered everyone and the castle is empty, it only reinforced the illusion. He thinks you can't even summon a basic undead.]
Another pause.
[Come on, he thinks he's the final boss. Can't you let the man enjoy a little monologue?]
"He looks like a clown with brain rot," Dracula muttered. "And even if he wants to kill me, how exactly does that relate to saving the world?"
[Well… technically, he doesn't want to kill you. He wants to use you—offer you as a sacrifice and absorb your power. With God and Satan both gone, if he succeeds, this world would be in deep trouble.]
"I get the logic." Dracula nodded. "Now tell me—what are the odds that he can actually take my power?"
[Uhh... I mean, there's a chance, right?]
The system hesitated.
[Like, if you suddenly had a breakdown and offered it to him or something?]
"You ridiculous excuse for a system." Dracula sighed, watching the idiot vampires jump around in front of him. With all the noise, he gave up on sleeping. Still wrapped in his blanket, he slowly sat up.
Seeing the legendary Dark Lord stir, Scarr and his crew instinctively took a step back—despite their earlier bravado and 'proof' that Dracula was weak.
But when all he did was sit up without further movement, Scarr regained his nerve. He sneered again.
"What's wrong? Tempted to strike me down for defiling the honor of the Blood King? Ha! But powerless to act, aren't you? Your blood will be the stepping stone to my divine throne, Dracula!"
"Can this moron shut up already?" Dracula said to the system. "Look at that smug face. I haven't made that expression since I was five hundred. How the hell did he become vampire leader? And this 'honor of the Blood King' nonsense? Please. I gave up on that the day I disguised myself as a rat to sneak into Satan's fortress."
[Hey now, don't diss him so hard. He's a descendant of one of the survivors from your invasion of Queen Carmilla's castle. Genetically speaking, he's the closest to vampire royalty left. Technically, that makes him… your heir.]
"Yeah, no. If I ever produced a descendant like that, I'd rather have shot into a wall."
Dracula squinted at the still-yammering Scarr. "Is he ever gonna shut up? You got a way to make him attack me already?"
[Why? Killing him would be effortless for you. Why wait?]
"Ugh." Dracula glanced lazily at the would-be vampire god. "He's too far away. I don't feel like moving."
[Use magic, then. Or just hit him. With your strength, you could collapse this entire dimension and vaporize them all.]
"You idiot." Dracula retorted. "This is my house. You expect me to blow it up? And if I roast these wannabes with magic, how am I supposed to eat them later?"
[…Fine.]
The system sighed.
At that moment, Scarr heard a voice.
A mocking voice—clear, resonant, and filled with contempt. Yet Dracula hadn't even moved his lips.
"Pfft… idiot."
Sometimes, to provoke someone, all it takes is not a speech, not an insult—just a single, well-timed snort of ridicule while they're passionately baring their soul.
The system clearly understood this psychological warfare very well.
Blood rushed to Scarr's head. Furious, he roared:
"HOW DARE YOU MOCK ME! Even if you're the Blood King, you can't trample on my dreams! ATTACK!!"
At their leader's command, the four vampires accompanying him launched their assault.
Two males leapt into the air, claws gleaming, aiming to strike from above.
One female fell back and summoned a crimson magic circle, while the other pulled out… holy water from under her robes.
As for Scarr, he drew a crucifix from his coat. Carefully holding it by the handle, wrapped in black cloth, he charged forward.
"Familiar, isn't it, Dracula?" he howled. "This used to be your weapon! The only weapon in this world that can kill you! Rejoice—for it shall now free you!"
Dracula didn't move. He simply sat on his throne, watching.
He glanced first at the two males above him.
[Ah… aerial claw strike. A classic move. Brings back memories.]
Then he turned to the two females preparing spells and holy weapons.