Dark Place: Broken Tooth Mountain
Under the cold sky, dark clouds churned ominously. The wind howled, and lightning tore through the heavens like a vengeful spirit, slicing across the night sky and illuminating the lone, mysterious figure standing atop the mountain.
"So that's it... No wonder I've been having strange visions since I was born. It turns out... I've been reincarnated."
The man looked to be around twenty-four or twenty-five years old. He wore a black, gothic-style trench coat with soft armor underneath. His expression was both serious and slightly unhinged.
"In that case... In this life, I shall become the progenitor of all vampires—Dracula!"
"Hmph... If that's how it is—"
"Ahem—"
He coughed heavily, then suddenly raised his head toward the sky, pointing upward as he shouted:
"Prepare yourselves, world. Tremble at my return!"
As his words echoed into the night, the dark clouds, fierce winds, and streaking lightning abruptly vanished. Silence blanketed the air.
"What the hell?! What just happened?" he cursed.
Seeing the sudden change in the weather, Vlad was completely dumbfounded.
"Hey… system? Are you doing something?" he asked softly, gazing suspiciously into the air.
"Ahem... Guess not," he muttered after a moment. Finding nothing out of place, he awkwardly coughed again and tried to collect himself.
"Hah…" He exhaled slowly.
With a weary look, Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn… ever since my memories came back, I've been feeling all over the place. I'm about to develop split personalities at this rate."
Overwhelmed by the return of his past life's memories, he had gotten a little too carried away. Vlad couldn't help but cringe at his over-the-top performance just now.
If anyone who knew him saw this scene, they would never believe that Vlad—the infamous Archduke of Impalement—could act so childishly.
Now, with the dark clouds gone and moonlight streaming down, Vlad stood on the peak of the mountain, his figure exuding a mysterious and sinister aura under the pale light.
Turning his gaze to the dark cave behind him, he fell into deep thought.
From his fully recovered memories, he recalled that ten years from now, his homeland would fall, his family would be destroyed, and his beloved wife would die a tragic death.
In that desperate time, he would be forced into a pact with the devil, becoming the first vampire—Dracula.
But now, having become a vampire ten years earlier, could he prevent that tragedy from ever happening?
Testing the power within him, Vlad struck at a nearby cliff wall. With just a light press of his fingers, the seemingly unbreakable rock crumbled into powder.
Watching the dust scatter from his palm, Vlad murmured, "Such terrifying strength…"
His eyes shifted to the forest below. The thick veil of night meant nothing to him now.
Not only did it fail to obscure his vision, but he could also see through layers of branches and foliage with ease, spotting even the smallest animals within.
He could hear the babble of brooks, the chirp of crickets, the scurry of hares, and even the buzz of mosquitoes—each sound as distinct as if broadcast through a speaker.
"It's getting late. I should head back," he whispered, looking up at the sky.
Vlad had once been the most trusted lieutenant of the old Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Sent to Transylvania to quell a rebellion, he had passed through Broken Tooth Mountain.
There, his past life's memories awakened, and he felt a powerful pull—an opportunity to change his fate.
Driven by this instinct, he climbed the mountain, and there, he became Dracula a full decade earlier than in his past life.
Now, with all his memories restored, he understood the destiny that awaited him—and he would not allow history to repeat itself.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced back at the cave. His expression turned resolute.
Then his figure shot forward off the cliff. In the next instant, he dissolved into a swarm of bats and vanished into the darkness like a ghost.
"Reincarnation, huh? Heh… this world is about to get interesting."
Capital of the Principality of Transylvania
At dawn, golden rays of sunlight spread across the vast valley plain.
Rows of armored soldiers stood like a forest of steel. Under the morning light, they gleamed with a cold brilliance. The sight was both majestic and oppressive, as if the air itself had turned to frost.
Vlad rode a tall, muscular warhorse. As sunlight bathed him, he frowned in discomfort.
"So it's true… vampires really are weak against sunlight."
He glanced at his exposed hands, feeling numbness and a dull ache. Though tolerable, it was undeniably unpleasant.
"At noon, when the sun is strongest, I'll probably be burned to ash…" he muttered, a flicker of darkness crossing his eyes.
From his previous life, he remembered that in the American TV series Dracula, after many years, he eventually gained the ability to walk under the sun.
Which meant—
"I'm still not strong enough," he said quietly, eyes fixed on the small city ahead. "But that can be changed."
In Year One of Dracula, he had only become a vampire ten years later after being pressured by the new Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Even then, it ended with his country in ruins and his wife dead.
But now, he had awakened early. He had power. History… could be rewritten.
He knew his presence here would throw the world off its intended path.
But so what? As long as he came out ahead, he didn't care.
Recalling how everything had ended in ruin before, a fire rose in his heart.
"Unless I've completely lost my mind, I will never let that happen again!"
A red gleam flashed in his black eyes. A wave of sinister energy radiated from his body.
The generals and guards around him shuddered as a chilling pressure settled over them.
Whispers of curses and complaints followed—they thought the temperature had suddenly dropped.
Vlad withdrew his hands into his black cloak and looked skyward. In a blink, the once-clear sky darkened. Clouds gathered. Thunder rumbled. Winds howled across the plain.
"Damn it! What kind of weather is this?!"
"It was sunny just a second ago!"
"Is it going to rain now?! Seriously?!"
Amid the soldiers' complaints, Vlad slowly exhaled. Fatigue weighed on his body. A ravenous thirst surged from deep within.
"I didn't expect… I could actually control the weather. But the cost is too great."
Pressing his brow, he fought the sudden urge to feed. His eyes instinctively drifted to the guards' necks before he forced himself to look away, fixing his gaze on the distant city walls.
"Attack!" Vlad commanded, raising his arm.
As the order rang out, massive boulders rained from the sky, crashing into the capital of Transylvania with devastating force.
Arrows filled the air like a dark storm, blotting out the sky as they poured down on the city.
It was a massacre.
The Principality of Transylvania had no more than a thousand troops.
How could they stand against the elite Ottoman forces led by Vlad?
Under the relentless barrage of siege weaponry, the defenders were overwhelmed. The assault never paused—there was no time to regroup, no room to breathe.
The Royal Palace of Transylvania
"You monster! How dare you murder your own father!"
"Heh… you're really asking me that?"
The man wore fine black noble robes. His dark curls framed a crazed smile.
"Not only did I kill him, but I'm not letting you go either."
He slowly reached out, brushing the fair, delicate face of the girl before him. A perverse light danced in his eyes.
"No… you're insane… You've completely lost it!" the girl cried out, terror flooding her gaze. The man before her was no longer human.
But her hands and feet were bound. She could only squirm helplessly on the ground.
Seeing her trembling body, her shapely legs, and her fearful struggle, the man's twisted excitement only grew.