The Sanctuary breathed ancient darkness. Each of Lucy's steps echoed through corridors that seemed to watch her advance.
The loss of Nyra still burned inside her — but now something new had taken its place: absolute determination.
Lucy stopped in the center of a circular hall, illuminated only by runic markings along the walls. There, she opened her hand… and the two pendants she carried — hers and Nyra's — floated upward.
They rotated slowly in the air, emitting bluish and silvery glows that intertwined like threads of memory.
"You two… were always with me."
Lucy's voice cracked for a moment, though her posture remained firm.
The pendants drifted closer, drawn together by an invisible force, until they touched.
The moment they did, a silent burst of cerulean light engulfed the room.
The metals bent, fused, spiraled, reshaping into a new form — as if the very essence of the sisters was etching its will onto the object.
THE CONVERGENT AMULET
A perfect symbol formed by the union of both halves — a circle of bluish silver. Energy pulsed from it like a beating heart.
Lucy raised the amulet to her forehead…
And then lifted Lycanos.
The blade reacted instantly.
Runes lit up along its surface, pulsing in the same rhythm as the amulet. The sword vibrated, as if awakening from a deep and hungry slumber.
Suddenly, the amulet shot toward the sword, embedding itself into the center of the guard as though it had belonged there from the beginning.
And then —
LYCANOS ROARED.
It wasn't a physical sound.
It was a spiritual growl.
An ancient, primal howl echoing through Lucy's soul.
The blade twisted, expanded, reshaped.
The metal stretched like the flesh of a beast.
Its form grew more curved, more savage.
Red runes appeared all over its surface.
And finally, its true form emerged:
A massive wolf-fang sword, alive, pulsating — able to extend like a feral limb.
Lucy lifted the weapon with both hands.
She felt the power of her father, Ulisses.
She felt Nyra.
And she felt her own — burning, fierce, indomitable.
"Come on, Lycanos. Take me to him."
The sword glowed…
And slipped out of her hands.
Floating inches above the ground, Lycanos moved forward down the corridor, guided by ancestral instinct. Lucy immediately followed.
Doors opened on their own as she approached.
Stairs extended.
The Sanctuary seemed to recognize her.
Or fear her.
The sword eventually stopped before a circular sealed door, marked with crimson symbols of confinement. As soon as Lucy arrived, the door crumbled open like dust.
Beyond it was a massive chamber, completely empty… except for a large circular pit in the center, surrounded by an elaborate red magic circle, pulsing like freshly spilled blood.
"This is the path… to him."
Lycanos descended slowly to the center of the circle, pointing toward the pit as if asking Lucy to complete the ritual.
Lucy gripped the hilt.
"Take me to Dracula."
She drove the blade into the center of the magic circle.
The ground shook violently.
Red runes began spinning around the pit.
Black flames rose along the edges.
The light grew so intense it nearly blinded Lucy.
And then —
A portal opened beneath her.
Crimson darkness.
Hot wind.
The distant scent of ash… and suffering.
Lucy understood instantly.
"The Underworld. That's where he is."
She pulled the sword free — now twice as powerful, alive, pulsing — and stepped forward without hesitation.
Lucy jumped into the portal.
And the world dissolved into red.
The portal closed above her like a devouring mouth.
Lucy fell onto a living floor — the surface was moist, pulsating, breathing like flesh. The walls contracted in slow waves, like the inside of a colossal stomach. The stench of sulfur burned her nostrils, mixed with hot vapor rising from organic fissures.
"What a disgusting place…" Lucy muttered, drawing Lycanos.
The Underworld felt like a living creature, not a realm. Each step made the flesh quiver beneath her boot. Bones jutted from the walls like spikes. Black ichor dripped from the ceiling.
Lucy advanced, eyes sharp, every sense heightened.
Then… she heard it.
Screams.
Faint at first.
Then louder.
Then… familiar.
"Lucy!… Lucy! HELP ME!"
The voice slipped through the distorted echoes. Lucy froze instantly.
"Drayven?"
She ran.
The fleshy corridor opened into a vast chamber of horror: runes pulsed on the ceiling like burning coals. Massive spikes erupted from the floor. At the center stood a throne made entirely of human bones, enormous and imposing — a profane king's seat.
At the foot of the steps, collapsed, wounded, gasping — Drayven.
"Lucy… please… help me…"
Lucy rushed forward on instinct.
But before she could reach her—
FOOM.
A translucent blue barrier snapped shut around her like a capsule. Electric energy rippled across its surface, trapping her.
From the shadows behind Drayven, a figure emerged.
A long black cloak down to the floor.
A cracked white mask, revealing only the mouth.
Invisible eyes.
A dead, theatrical presence.
He tilted his head, as if greeting an invisible audience.
It was one of Dracula's generals: Hector, the Phantom of the Opera.
And then the barrier trembled.
The fight began.
Hector raised his long hands, stiff as puppet claws. Ethereal blue strings extended from his fingertips, slicing the air. Lucy dodged with acrobatic leaps, Lycanos slashing the strings, which burst into sparks.
The Phantom advanced spinning, floating like a disfigured dancer. Every movement was a grotesque choreography, millimetrically precise. The strings multiplied, binding Lucy's arms and legs.
"Damn!"
She pulled violently, Lycanos extending in its wolf-fang form, shredding everything around her. The strings snapped like ruptured entrails.
Lucy charged with a vertical slash.
Hector lifted his hand, deflecting the blade with a wave of blue energy.
"You're just an annoying ghost!" Lucy snarled, kicking the air.
But then Hector arched backward.
The mask unfolded like petals.
His flesh erupted into shadow.
Screams echoed inside the barrier.
And then the monstrous form appeared:
A towering, warped body the height of a building,
with arms and hands sprouting from every direction,
each hand gripping strings, claws, or opera blades.
A deformed face glowed at the center — Hector's face.
Lucy stepped back, placing herself between the monster and Drayven.
"Stay behind me!" she shouted.
But as she moved—
SHLAAK.
A blood spell struck her from behind like liquid chains.
Lucy dropped to her knees, pinned to the ground, unable to move arms or legs.
"What —?!"
Drayven stood up.
A cold smile.
Blood-red eyes.
"You really believed it, Lucy? That I needed your help?"
She laughed cruelly.
"I serve Dracula. I always have."
Lucy growled.
"Traitor… I should've known…"
"It's not betrayal when I was never on your side," Drayven sneered.
"You're so naïve. It's almost touching."
Lucy tried to break the blood chains, but they tightened the more she struggled.
"You smell like her. Like my mother," Lucy whispered, hatred simmering.
"That's what pisses me off the most about you."
Drayven smiled — but the smile trembled.
"The resemblance is just… coincidence."
The ground shook.
Hector's monstrous form began to waver, unstable, melting. Runes flickered. The barrier flickered.
And then—
CRACK.
One of the massive spikes on the ceiling broke loose.
And plummeted straight toward Drayven.
Lucy didn't hesitate.
She shattered the blood chains through sheer vampiric force, lunged forward, and shoved Drayven out of the way just seconds before the spike crushed her.
Drayven froze, shocked.
Lucy stood, panting.
"Get out of here, Drayven. Next time we meet… it won't be like this."
Drayven's eyes widened.
"Why… why did you save me?"
Lucy looked away, expression hard.
"Because you… look like my mother."
Drayven swallowed hard.
"Lucy…"
Lucy drew a pistol and aimed it at her.
"Don't come near me, monster. You may look like her… but you'll never have her heart."
Drayven staggered backward, devastated.
Lucy turned away.
And walked off, firm, disappearing into the living shadows of the Underworld.
Drayven collapsed, trembling.
Then a male voice echoed in her mind — cold as a blade in the dark:
"Drayven… you have failed as well. You know the rules."
Her eyes widened in terror.
And the Underworld trembled.