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Tens of thousands of years ago, there were two races that were considered people. One was the heaven-winged, who were the first race the Goddess created for this world. Then there was the race derived from the heaven-winged who had descended to the ground and lost their wings in exchange for the adaptability to live in nearly any environment. They were now simply referred to as humans, and they became the basic template from which a race was determined to be a part of humanity or not.
Furthermore, humans spread to caves, forests, and plains—basically every area Mizgarz had to offer—changing and adapting to their environment. That was how the current seven races of humanity were formed. Among them, there were those who desired a peaceful life in a dark land. While they lived in the depths of Mizgarz where the mana was thickest, they mutated greatly, becoming the race closest to monsters amongst humanity. This was the race that would later be called vampires.
Vampires—they were the nobility of the night, who were strong like beastfolk, fast like halflings, able to use magic like elves, tough like dwarves, and with a longer life span than heaven-winged. On top of that, they had strong regenerative powers, and under the benefit of moonlight, they were even stronger.
They were confident that they were the closest race to perfection. This held doubly true for the historic firsts of their species—the originators. The strongest of the originators was a man filled with a vampire’s arrogance who called himself a vampire among vampires, a “true ancestor,” before traveling forth to attempt world conquest.
He was the most feared vampire in all of history, Vlad the True Ancestor. His power was truly the stuff of nightmares, an embodiment of despair. If he wanted to, he could run ten times the speed of sound, and he was strong enough to crack mountains. His mastery over magic allowed him to instantly erase entire villages, and his overall combat prowess was said to have allowed him to decimate entire large cities in a single night.
However, it is said that the nail that sticks out gets hammered. His greed in wanting dominance over not just humanity but monsters and fairies as well was his undoing. After challenging the Fairy Princess Pollux, the Symbol of Light, Vlad’s armies were overrun by her heroic spirits. As for Vlad himself, he was unable to even lay a hand on the brother, Castor, and his body was split into thirty-six pieces as he tasted total and utter defeat.
Vlad was not dead though. In the end, his self-given title as true ancestor was not just for show. His incredibly stubborn constitution kept him alive even after he was rendered into ashes.
He did not escape with only light damage, of course, so he was forced to spend the next several thousand years on his revival. Even then, he needed an even greater amount of time in order to regain his former strength. Eventually, though, the time to hide in obscurity reached its end, and it was time for Vlad to redouble his efforts towards his goal.
Having regained his former strength—or rather, having regained more than his former strength—Vlad awoke from his long slumber, finally completing his revival and fully ready to steep the world in darkness and blood.
“A new age of darkness has come upon us!”
A voice reverberated through the darkness of Helheim, coming from the rubble which remained from the collapse Libra had caused. More specifically, it came from a casket buried within that rubble.
“I have revived!” The voice paused. “Mm? Hmm? What? It won’t open...?”
The true ancestor, Vlad, spoke about a time that had already ended over ten thousand years ago. People would remember Lufas Maphaahl, who had only become infamous two hundred years ago, but not even vampires would remember someone from that long ago. As a result, the location of the true ancestor’s casket had been completely forgotten, causing him to be stuck under this rubble in a strange set of coincidences.
“Krkkh! Aghh! What is on top of my casket?! H-Hey, is there anyone there?! Your true ancestor has revived! Bah... Open up! Open up, I said!”
Finally reaching the limits of his patience, the owner of the voice kicked his casket, forcing the rubble away. The casket’s resident walked gracefully out from among the cloud of dust caused by such a move, brushed himself off, and looked around.
Good. No one was around. It seems there are no witnesses of me in this state.
Though initially relieved, the man eventually slipped into a state of dissatisfaction over the fact that no one was here to celebrate the revival of their great true ancestor.
“What is the meaning of this...? Why is no one here? I should have warned them that I would return after ten thousand years of sleep...”
Vlad had indeed foretold his revival, but not even the ageless vampires could remember something for that long. Given a span of ten thousand years, no one other than those who had been alive at the time would remember anything from that period. Almost all of the vampires who had been alive in that time had become ash long ago. Mizgarz’s vampires did not grow old, but they did have a life span. With that in mind, the fact that this man was still alive after so long hinted that he was indeed worthy of the “true ancestor” title.
“Hmph... The flow of time, I suppose? How impudent. It is just sad that none of the vampires that should worship me are here. It seems the vampires of this era must be taught a lesson as to who their ruler is.”
Vlad’s smile was as haughty as could be expected of a ruler of the night as he disappeared.
If they do not understand the greatness of their true ancestor, then they are not worthy of mercy, even if they are of the same species. No. I, Vlad, am the only real vampire to exist in the first place. Everybody else is just a cheap imitation. To think that these inferior beings would dare forget their true ancestor... They should not complain about being killed.
The first thing Vlad decided to do was find the vampires of the current age, meaning the country of vampires, Mjolnir. Said country, which was under the effect of a permanent night, was under the control of the Vampire Princess Benetnasch and situated in Mizgarz’s most dangerous area. It mustn’t be brought up that, if she ruled a country, Benetnasch should be a queen and not a princess.
That day, Benetnasch was enjoying a mont blanc that Lufas had brought back from Earth in her room, and thus was in a very good mood. There was no one around, and no need for her to be careful of appearances, so her expression was freer than usual.
Suddenly her window shattered as someone flew in rudely. That in itself was fine; Benetnasch only thought some rat had dropped in. What was unforgivable to her, however, was that because the intruder had come in so roughly, some gunk had gotten on top of her mont blanc, ruining it.
A vein popped at Benetnasch’s temple, and her rare loose expression instantly filled with killing intent.
“Hmph. So this is the castle of the current ruler of vampires? It is rather nice, but from now on, it shall be mine,” said Vlad.
Benetnasch remained silent.
“Still, to think that a small girl like this is their monarch... Bow, little girl. You are standing too tall. I am the true ancestor...”
Without a word, Benetnasch’s fist slammed into the intruder’s—Vlad’s—face.