"What do you say about my offer, Dracula? We call for a ceasefire, form an alliance, and together we destroy the conservative clan. With their ashes swept away, your clan will reign supreme in this world. Not only this world—entire galaxies would fall under your banner."
Asmodeus leaned back casually, his tone carrying the confidence of a man who believed himself to be the one making the rules. Across from him, seated upon a throne wrought from shadow and obsidian, was the lord of the eternal night himself—Dracula Highborn. The king of the rippers, an existence whispered of with awe and terror across countless worlds.
Dracula's chin rested against his palm, his crimson eyes half-lidded with disinterest. His voice carried a lazy, yet crushing weight as he responded.
