The sea was silent.
The sky over Romania, painted in a scarlet twilight, seemed to burn slowly on the horizon, casting orange hues across the rippling water.
A solitary boat sliced through that glassy expanse, carrying two figures — Lucy, her shoulder-length red hair glinting in the fading light, and Drayven, a woman with jet-black hair and a glacial gaze, her hands steady on the helm.
The motor purred softly as the cold wind swept past, making Lucy's crimson coat flutter behind her. Standing at the edge of the boat, she gazed at the looming shape ahead — Big Tartar, an island of jagged rock and ruins shrouded in eternal mist.
"You know," Lucy said, folding her arms and flashing Drayven a teasing look, "this feels like a terrible setting for a romantic date."
Drayven didn't look away from the sea. Her voice was calm, with a faint edge of irony.
"If it were a date, you wouldn't be armed to the teeth."
Lucy smirked.
"Fair point. But can you really blame me for bringing my sword to dinner? You never know when your partner might turn dangerous."
Drayven sighed lightly.
"You talk too much."
"That's my charm," Lucy replied with a wink.
The boat finally reached the island's abandoned pier. The wood groaned under the touch of life it hadn't felt for decades. They stepped ashore, the echo of their boots filling the misty silence.
In the distance loomed a massive structure — the Orlok Sanctuary. A gothic temple weathered by time, its broken towers clawed at the sky, and its gates were marked with ancient runes.
"The gates of hell… charming destination," Lucy muttered, adjusting her gloves.
"This is where the first cult of Dracula was born," Drayven explained, her eyes tracing the deformed angel statues along the walls.
"They believed the prince's blood could free men from death. In the end, all they freed were monsters."
Before them stood a colossal bronze door, sealed and carved with old sigils. Lucy approached, unsheathed Lycanos, and drove the blade into the center.
A metallic echo rippled through the air, followed by a surge of silver energy coursing through the cracks. With a thunderous groan, the doors began to open.
Inside, the air was dense — cold, metallic, reeking of extinguished candles and ancient iron. The old torches flared to life on their own, illuminating shattered stained glass and a floor covered in arcane symbols.
"We'll split up," Drayven said, scanning the ornate ceiling.
"There are hidden passages here. I'll check the west wing. You take the main hall. If you find anything… call me."
"You got it, boss." Lucy spun her sword effortlessly.
Drayven gave her a final glance before vanishing into the darkness — as if the temple itself had swallowed her whole.
Lucy moved on alone. Her footsteps echoed through the halls lined with mutilated statues and windows depicting scenes of sacrifice. Before long, she stumbled upon an underground library — shelves thick with dust, stacked with decaying tomes about necromancy and blood rituals.
As she wandered between the rows, her fingers brushed against an odd marking on the floor. Pressing it triggered a faint click — one of the shelves slid aside, revealing a secret passage bathed in pulsating blue light.
"Oh, I love when this happens…" she murmured, smiling as she descended.
The staircase spiraled down into a circular chamber. In its center stood a bronze statue of a warrior in armor, sword pointed toward the ground. The metal shimmered with a ghostly blue glow, runes carved along the blade.
Lucy stepped closer.
That's when the sword vibrated.
A raspy, ancient voice filled the room:
"Who dares disturb the rest of Nosferion?"
Lucy stepped back, but her grin didn't falter.
"The hot monster hunter you'll ever meet."
The sword reacted, surging with blue energy.
"The power of Nosferion belongs only to the worthy. Prove yourself, child of the moon."
"Challenge accepted."
Before she could move, the sword shot forward, impaling her through the abdomen with supernatural force, pinning her to the ground. The metallic sound echoed, and for a moment, the world froze.
Her blood spilled, tracing the runes beneath her, and the torches flared into a blue blaze. Then Lucy's eyes snapped open — glowing crimson.
With a roar, she pushed herself up, shattering the blade into a storm of pure energy.
Mystical light enveloped her body — streaks of blue and crimson lightning crackled around her as her hair and coat whipped violently in the surge.
"Heh… nice effect," she quipped.
Nosferion's voice returned, calm and resonant:
"The pact is sealed. When you need me… call my name."
The energy condensed into a blue amulet, which floated into her hand. Lucy caught it, grinning with satisfaction.
"Alright, talking sword… welcome to the team."
She pocketed the amulet and moved on. The next door creaked open before her, revealing a massive hall upheld by gothic columns. The stench of decay was overwhelming.
Suddenly, the ceiling shook. Dust rained down as a grotesque creature crashed to the floor before her.
Its body was covered in leathery wings and pulsating muscle, its fangs glinting like daggers.
"I am Bastius, guardian of the sanctuary," it snarled, spreading its wings wide. "I expected someone more threatening… but all I see is a pathetic human."
Lucy twirled her pistol, smirking.
"And I expected an uglier monster. Guess we're both disappointed today, huh, bat-boy?"
The creature's eyes blazed with rage, the stone beneath its feet cracking.
Lucy straightened her stance, the grin still on her lips.
"Alright, big guy. Let's see if you scream as loud as you roar."
The shadows stirred. The wind howled through the hall.
The battle was about to begin.