For ordinary beings, Dracula's powers would be terrifying — a form of immortality that seemed to defy death itself. But to Kurogai, it was just another flawed imitation of true eternity.
Dracula's regeneration was potent, yes — but it required blood to sustain it.
The phoenix, a true immortal creature, needed no such fuel.
In comparison, Dracula's so-called immortality was nothing more than dependency disguised as power.
Kurogai could have chosen the long route — wearing down Dracula's body repeatedly, forcing him to heal until every drop of blood was spent.
Eventually, the vampire would have collapsed from exhaustion.
But that approach was tedious and inefficient.
Instead, Kurogai opted for something far simpler.
By locking Dracula's body in the moment of injury, he severed his ability to recover entirely.
"Alright," Kurogai said coolly, watching Dracula's motionless form.
"My turn."
He reached out and drew out his weapon — a dark, gleaming demon scythe.
With precise, deliberate motion, he thrust the blade into Dracula's mangled torso.
The weapon pulsed faintly as it drank in the ancient vampire's blood.
Even through the chaos of battle, Kurogai could sense the purity in Dracula's essence.
His bloodline truly was the first — ancient, untainted, and powerful.
As the scythe absorbed it, Kurogai's seventh pupil ring began to stir, glowing faintly with expanding power.
After several moments, he withdrew the blade.
Dracula's pale, broken body lay motionless on the sand — only enough blood left in his veins to keep him barely alive.
"Not enough," Kurogai muttered.
"One vampire lord's blood won't do."
He turned toward Danica Talos, who stood silently beside the plane.
"Bring them," he ordered.
Without hesitation, Danica nodded and motioned to a group of captives nearby — humans prepared in advance for this very purpose.
Kurogai had planned for the possibility that Dracula's blood alone wouldn't be sufficient, so he had ensured a steady supply of blood sources for replenishment.
Dracula was now little more than Kurogai's living battery — drained when needed, refilled when empty, only to be drained again.
"Blood…" Dracula rasped weakly.
His consciousness flickered, yet his body responded on instinct, latching onto the victims and consuming their blood greedily.
Within minutes, his strength began to return.
As color returned to his face, Dracula's rage reignited.
He glared at Kurogai, his fangs bared in fury.
"You dare toy with me!" he roared.
He knew he couldn't defeat Kurogai — their earlier battle had proven that beyond doubt — but humiliation burned hotter than reason.
The thought of being reduced to a feeding tool enraged him.
With a burst of movement, Dracula's form blurred, wings of crimson unfolding behind him as he shot into the sky, fleeing across the desert at blinding speed.
Cowardice or calculation — it didn't matter.
He was running.
Kurogai smirked faintly.
"Smart move," he said.
"But I'm not letting you go."
With a calm motion, he extended his hand.
Space energy shimmered faintly in his grasp.
The air around Dracula solidified in an instant.
The vampire froze mid-flight, his wings locked in place, his body completely immobilized — as if the universe itself had turned against him.
"Come back," Kurogai commanded.
The air twisted.
Dracula's helpless form drifted backward, drawn through the space between them until he was suspended once more before Kurogai.
Dracula struggled to speak, his face etched with disbelief and horror.
"What… what are you?"
Kurogai met his gaze, his voice quiet but absolute.
"Does it matter?"
Without waiting for an answer, he drove the scythe into Dracula's chest once more.
The weapon's edge pulsed with dark energy as it drained the vampire's blood again.
And so the cycle continued — drain, restore, drain again.
Dracula's body healed, only to be pierced once more.
His roars grew weaker with every repetition, his defiance drowned by despair.
At last, when Dracula could no longer even lift his head, Kurogai stopped.
He wiped the blade clean with a flick of his wrist, his eyes glinting faintly as a soft hum resonated in his mind.
[Seventh pupil ring: fully saturated. Upgrade available. Proceed?]
Kurogai exhaled slowly, lowering the scythe.
His expression was calm — almost indifferent.
Another step forward.
And Dracula, the once-mighty progenitor of all vampires, lay broken at his feet — reduced to a whisper of what he once was.