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"Hey! Look, there's a kid over here."
Alexander Crowe heard the voice nearby and frowned slightly.
…He felt awful.
What happened to him…?
"Cough… cough—"
He spat out a mouthful of seawater and slowly opened his eyes.
"Hmm, looks like he's still alive."
"Oi, leave him. We're here to see Roger's execution, not pick up strays. Just some kid — ignore him."
Alexander's head throbbed as he sat up slowly from the wet sand, glancing around.
In front of him stood several burly men, dressed in rough, sea-worn clothes — sailors or pirates, perhaps. They spoke in a language he didn't understand.
Everywhere else around him was ocean, except for the strip of beach beneath him. A short distance away, a ship bearing a black flag with a skull fluttered in the salty wind.
A pirate ship. That much, he understood instantly.
"Forget it, let's go. Looks like a shipwreck survivor. Probably broke. Waste of time."
"Or… we could grab him and sell him as a slave."
"Forget it. The Marines will be swarming once the execution's over. Let's just keep a low profile. And lower that Jolly Roger — there are too many pirates in Loguetown right now. As long as we don't stand out, we're fine."
They walked off toward the town up ahead.
Cough… cough…
Alexander staggered to his feet, coughing twice more, and made his way into the edge of town, slipping into a narrow, empty alley.
That beach… was too dangerous.
He still didn't know where he was or what had happened, but one thing was certain: those men were trouble. Even without understanding their words, he could feel the malice in their eyes.
He needed somewhere safe — or safer — to gather his thoughts.
First priority… his power.
That was his foundation, his means of survival.
In any time, in any world — power meant life.
And right now…
Up ahead, slumped in the shadows of another alley, a drunkard lay passed out, reeking of alcohol.
Without hesitation, Alexander walked over.
He knelt beside the unconscious man, placed his hand on his neck — and in the next instant, his fingers elongated into blade-like talons, piercing deep into flesh.
The man's mouth opened in silent shock, but there was no time to scream. In seconds, his body withered, his blood gone — leaving only a dry husk.
Alexander exhaled softly, feeling strength rush back into his limbs. Without looking back, he slipped into another side street, further from the scene.
Behind him, his shadow rippled and warped into something monstrous, engulfing the husk entirely.
"…Good. My power's still here — still working."
He could already feel the scope of it.
"Now… let's see the memories."
One of his abilities: consuming the blood of another allowed him to access their memories.
Closing his eyes, he sifted through the fragments, and when he opened them again, he understood this world — and could now speak its language.
"Alexander Crowe… That name will draw too much attention here. Nothing like it in this man's memories. Better to choose something… fitting."
He smirked faintly.
"Yes… I'll use his name. From now on… I am Alucard."
Alexander — no, Alucard — exhaled slowly.
Now, it was time to discover exactly what had happened to him…
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