(Narrator: DraculaVN93)
This is a light novel crafted by yours truly, infused with action, drama, and a post-apocalyptic grimness.
The story revolves around a world steeped in blood and tragedy, where humanity has been pushed to the brink of extinction. Everything isn't just about fighting—it's a relentless chase between truth and deception, light and shadow.
I've built a vast world with a clear Rank system for both humans and Vampires, where each tier conceals bloody laws and power beyond imagination.
The protagonist will gradually develop his strength, step by step uncovering his identity and horrifying secrets no one dares to believe are true.
Visceral combat—massive twists—and questions that will make it impossible for you to stop reading.
The wind howled in gusts across the blood-red sky, carrying the frigid breath of despair. Occasional crimson lightning flashes tore through the heavens, like fissures cracking open in space. The air hung thick and heavy, as if the entire world was breathing its last.
Amidst the dust-choked road, a cough echoed. An old man shuffled slowly across the parched earth. His face was deeply etched with time, his eyes sharp yet vacant, as if he had witnessed too many deaths to still know fear. Over his shoulder, he carried a long object wrapped tightly in old cloth, resembling a large staff. His tattered cloak was caked with dust, his silver hair and beard tangled, his body hunched by the weight of memories and the burden on his back.
The surrounding landscape was a ruin of war: charred skeletons lay amidst the rubble, barren fields devoid of a single blade of grass, the ground cracked and fissured from too long without the sun's warmth.
In the distance, a colossal fortress loomed. Its walls soared, mighty yet stark against the desolate world. The old man entered, merging with the stream of refugees jostling at the gate. Whispers, prayers, and desperate sobs rose from everywhere: "We're all going to die…" "Is this place even safe anymore?" "They're everywhere…" "Please, someone… save my son…" "God… have mercy on us…"
The survivors huddled together as if seeking a last bit of warmth amidst the nightmare. Their eyes were bewildered, gazing into an uncertain future. Meanwhile, the old man remained silent. No prayers. No fear. He simply clutched his mysterious staff and waited… as if he had been accustomed to the world's annihilation for a very long time.
Suddenly, a horn blared. The jarring sound echoed through the blood-red twilight, freezing the entire space. All murmurs died, leaving only the howling wind in their ears.
On the city wall, a man in armor stepped out. He wasn't large, but his dull silver armor and determined eyes drew everyone's attention. His voice rang out powerfully, resonating deep within their hearts.
"This place is one of humanity's last standing strongholds. If it falls, we will have nowhere left to return. Therefore… we do not fight for you—but for the survival of humanity!"
He took a breath, his gaze sweeping over the thousands of faces looking up at him from below.
"Rise up, if you can still wield a weapon! If not, then pray… and await your fate!"
"Amen!"
The cry surged, echoing across the scarlet sky. But would that sound… be enough to dispel the despair gnawing at the minds of these people?
The old man still stood there, silent.
He didn't look up, nor did he clasp his hands in prayer. His eyes gently closed. The cold wind swept by, seeping into every crack in the stone wall. A chill ran down his spine. It wasn't just from the air… but from an instinctive premonition.
In that wind, he sensed… something was about to happen.
Behind him, murmuring spread like waves. The refugees began to huddle closer. Some trembled, pulling their cloaks tighter, while others hastily whispered silent prayers. Children hid behind their mothers, their eyes wide and bewildered, not understanding why everyone had suddenly fallen so silent.
Just then, a small voice whispered close to his ear. "Mister…"
He flinched slightly, turning. Before him stood a girl, about eight years old, her clothes soiled with dust, her hair matted with ash and smoke. Her eyes stared at him, wide and fearful, yet still holding a glimmer of something like hope—a fragile, almost laughable hope in this world.
"My mommy and daddy promised they'd come back for me… They will come back… won't they, mister? I'm… I'm so scared…"
Her voice trembled. She clutched the hem of her clothes, her small hands shaking as if trying to hold onto a last shred of warmth in the frigid air. The old man subtly pulled an old necklace from inside his robe, his wrinkled fingers clasping it, then tightened his grip on the staff he carried on his back. The wrapping around it came slightly undone, revealing a dull glint of metal within.
Just for a moment. His lips moved, as if to say something. But then, he stopped. He lowered his head, avoiding the child's gaze.
"I heard… the Pope is a bad person… is that true, mister?"
The question burst out unexpectedly. The little girl spoke softly, almost whispering, as if afraid that if she spoke too loudly, the truth would escape her words and become something even more terrifying than nightmares.
A growl erupted from behind them. A bald man, his eyes dark-rimmed from lack of sleep, blurted out as if his restraint had finally broken: "Of course! That bastard is the one who caused the apocalypse! He's inhuman, even killed his own daughter!"
No one refuted him. The words rang out like a curse. Every last refugee was finally forced to hear—to hear the truth they had desperately tried to avoid. The name "Pope" had now become a symbol of collapse. But… still, no one dared to say another word. Because if that truth was real… then there was no God left to pray to.
Suddenly… "HORNS!" – a cry reverberated, shattering the bleak atmosphere. From the city gate, a voice roared: "THEY'VE ARRIVED!!! EVERYONE, PREPARE!!!" The air froze. Everyone's hearts constricted. Fear-filled eyes turned to the distant horizon—towards the gate that had once been their last hope. The apocalypse… the thing they had always tried to flee… had arrived at their doorstep.
"They're here…?"
"We're dead for sure…"
"Lord, save our souls…"
"This is the end… isn't it?"
"No… I didn't even get to say goodbye…"
The words broke out like knives cutting into everyone's minds. Chaos spread like a fever. Some collapsed, falling to their knees in prayer. Others clung to loved ones, trembling in despair. No one could maintain their composure.
In the distance… through the burning red mist, an army advanced. Figures crowded together, marching steadily, at first looking human. But no… something was wrong. Pale skin, blazing red eyes, faces as emotionless as stone statues. And when their smiles parted, glittering fangs gleamed clearly in the red flashes of the sky.
VAMPIIIIIIIIIIIREEEEEEEEE
A piercing scream tore through the night. There was no doubt—they were Vampires. The immortals. The ones who had driven this world into hell. They were the nightmare… the apocalypse made manifest. And the sky… why was it red as blood?
As panic erupted everywhere, the old man remained seated. Huddled in a corner of the crumbling wall, his eyes silently gazing up at the crimson sky. In those eyes, there was no longer fear, nor belief. Only emptiness. Empty like his own soul. How many times had he seen this scene before? Enough to understand, resistance now was merely a formality.
The elderly, women, and children were led by guards into the shelter. The steel door slammed shut, separating them from the hell above ground. On the city walls, the clash of weapons echoed. Soldiers tightened their grip on swords, their sharp silver blades beginning to glow. Priests stood in ranks, their lips murmuring incantations, magic gathering into flickering light above their staffs. A pastor raised a holy relic high, a radiant halo spreading like a protective shield, covering the entire battle line. Weapons were enchanted, armor gleamed, hearts filled with a last surge of courage.
"Hold firm, warriors! God is with you!"
The roar echoed across the walls as if awakening the very earth. But before it faded, another scream rang out, this time from the distance, where crimson lightning streaked across the sky.
"THEY'RE CHARGING!!!"
And then… they appeared.
A sea of creatures surging forward—Vampires.
( pls
Any comments or feedback on my novel would mean a lot to me. Thank you so much!)