The first rays of morning stretched across Noctis Regnum, spilling golden light over obsidian rooftops and shimmering glass towers.
Shadows withdrew from alleyways like reluctant phantoms, chased by dawn's warm fingers.
Alucard stood motionless on the balcony of the guest manor granted by the Demon Queen's court.
Below, the city stirred to life—demon merchants opened stalls with softly glowing wares, spectral familiars darted through the air, and guards in black steel armor patrolled with mechanical precision.
But his gaze wasn't on the bustle below.
It fixed instead on the horizon, toward the jagged edge of demon territory where the land seemed to blur, the sky darker than it should be, where the Veil between worlds had begun to thin.
The memory burned into him: twisted limbs that defied anatomy, void-like eyes devoid of thought or empathy, the crushing aura that bent reality around it.
It hadn't belonged here.
But it had come anyway.
And he knew—it wasn't a mistake.
His investigation had taken him through records hidden in private archives, questioning seers and warlocks who muttered about "rising tides beneath skin" and "voices stitched into shadow."
What he pieced together was troubling:
The creature had first been spotted almost a year ago—just before Elysia rose to power.
That coincidence was too precise.
But the more chilling realization was this: Elysia was no master of this cosmic force.
At best, she was a vessel.
At worst... a pawn.
And yet, her power had surged with its arrival.
As the hours passed, Alucard wandered the cobbled streets of Noctis Regnum's inner districts, letting the city's unnatural rhythm wash over him.
Streets bent subtly in impossible angles. Doors that hadn't been there before sometimes appeared, only to vanish when blinked at. Mana currents overhead shifted in irregular pulses, like a nervous heartbeat.
The city was alive, but not in a way it should be.
A presence approached.
Silent.
Careful.
From a crowd of passing merchants and robed initiates, a shadow detached itself—hooded, sharp-eyed, barely making a sound as it stepped beside him.
"Looking for ghosts?" the figure asked.
His voice was low, calm, but heavy with weariness.
Alucard's hand moved to the hidden blade at his belt, instincts razor-sharp.
He relaxed slightly when the figure raised both hands in peace.
"I'm Lucien," he said.
"Intelligence for the Queen's court. But I keep a low profile."
Alucard studied him with veiled suspicion.
"How do you know who I am?"
Lucien's lips tightened into a thin line.
"The Forbidden Archives mention a 'Returned King'—a being called from beyond to walk the old paths anew. They speak of one who disturbs the flow of magic, whose soul hums in resonance with forgotten ley lines. You match too many signs."
He paused, glancing around as if the city itself might be listening.
"More than that," he continued quietly, "your presence interferes with this world in subtle but measurable ways. The mana bends differently near you. Certain wards collapse. Old wards—ancient ones—recognize you."
Alucard didn't deny it. Couldn't.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked instead.
Lucien's expression darkened.
"Because I serve the Queen. But I also serve the truth. Lately, the Queen has been walking in deeper shadow than she realizes. Something ancient is moving beneath her feet. And if you remember the world as it was, then you might be the only one who can understand what's coming."
He leaned closer.
"There's a sealed chamber beneath the Obsidian Spire. Older than the palace itself. She visits it alone, without retinue, without record. The old blood wards stir when she enters. Rumors say it's where she changed... and where the creature was first glimpsed."
Alucard's eyes narrowed.
"You've seen it?"
"Only pieces. Reflections. A ripple in a mirror. Enough to know it doesn't belong to any plane we know." Lucien hesitated. "But I've found a way in."
That night, under moonlight filtered through hex-glass and glimmering ward light, Lucien led Alucard through forgotten corridors behind the palace's southern wing.
They passed through old war rooms, hidden doors behind carved reliefs, and stairwells that spiraled downward with increasing unease.
The air thickened with arcane tension. Glyphs on the walls—older than demon kind—reacted as Alucard passed, glowing faintly as if recognizing him.
Stone gave way to living metal.
The walls pulsed faintly, like veins pumping blood. The scent of ozone and decay mingled.
At the lowest level, they reached a gate.
It wasn't a door.
It was an edifice—a smooth slab of onyx carved with runes that defied translation.
Not because they were foreign... but because they resisted being understood, like a word just outside memory.
Lucien's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Her wards weaken here. You can open it. I'm sure of it."
Alucard stepped forward.
As his palm touched the stone, it melted soundlessly, parting like oil pulled by invisible threads.
What lay beyond was not a room.
It was a rift.
A void of starless space, surrounded by floating chains of radiant light and crystals thrumming with containment spells.
The very laws of physics bent here—gravity reversed; time pulsed irregularly.
And at its center, suspended as if crucified by magic, floated a book.
It pulsed with malignancy.
The air around it crackled like burnt silk.
As Alucard stepped forward, the book's pages snapped open, flipping wildly before settling on words written in jagged strokes of an ancient tongue.
He could read them instinctively.
"The Beyond is not a place. It is a will. It does not come—it awakens."
Another page turned itself.
"She is but the vessel. The truth moves through her, unseen."
The words struck him like a blade.
Elysia hadn't summoned the abysmal creature.
She hadn't even tried to.
She was a conduit—her awakening, her rise, had merely opened a path.
A crack.
The thing he'd fought in the Veil?
A herald.
A scout.
A symptom.
The true force—the Will—was still gathering.
Stirring.
Choosing its shapes.
Alucard staggered back, breath steady but eyes blazing with dark clarity.
There was only one person who could answer the questions now clawing at his soul.
And she wore a crown of midnight flame.
The Demon Queen herself.