Vampire Progenitor System

The stone doors of the throne room creaked open.

Lucifer stepped through, his cloak dragging faint blood trails across the polished floor. The air inside was warm but still. Heavy, like it remembered every decision ever made here. He didn't pause. His boots echoed as he walked down the center aisle, toward the throne—but he didn't sit.

He turned around and faced them.

Valena stood by the left column, arms folded, eyes sharp but uncertain. Zane leaned against a pillar near the back, one boot kicked up, quiet as always. Dracula was closer to the front, regal as ever, cloak over one shoulder. They had gathered quickly, just as he asked. No one else spoke.

Lucifer looked tired—but more than that, he looked different.

Older. Sharper. Like something inside him had stopped pretending.

He looked at Valena first.

"Status," he said.

She stepped forward. "The humans are settling. The shelters you ordered near the cliffs are up. We used the black spring stones for the outer walls like you asked. It's holding. They're safe. Some have started farming. Others want to join the guard."

Lucifer nodded once.

"They'll need training," he said.

Dracula's voice came next, calm and measured. "And they'll get it. My curriculum is ready. Three divisions—combat, discipline, and law. Vampires and humans both. We've had a few noble protests but nothing violent. Yet."

Zane scoffed lightly. "They'll fall in line."

Lucifer glanced his way. "Your end?"

Zane gave a slow nod. "I've started with twenty squads. Split across territory defense, scouting, and crisis response. Anita's squad is handling fast-response drills. Alessia's running night ops. Vel handles pressure testing."

"And Jax?"

"He's underground," Zane said. "Labs are half-built. He's tweaking the realm's mana grid so tech doesn't short out every five minutes. Serah's helping."

Lucifer didn't smile, but his shoulders eased slightly.

Lucifer exhaled quietly.

"Good," he said, voice low. "Then keep going. All of you. No need for more meetings. Just make sure everything runs clean. I don't care if it bleeds, just don't let it break."

He stepped down from the dais and stood level with them. His eyes met each one of theirs, steady and deliberate.

"If someone can't adapt, replace them. If someone questions the new structure, test them. You don't need my permission. Just handle it."

Valena gave a short nod. "Understood."

Zane pushed off the pillar. "That's what I've been doing already."

Lucifer looked to Dracula.

The elder vampire bowed slightly. "We won't fail."

Lucifer didn't say anything more. He just turned and started walking toward the exit, his boots tapping lightly against the stone floor.

Then the world shook.

A boom—loud, sharp, and deep—crashed through the throne room like a god had slammed its fist down on the realm.

Stone cracked.

Windows rattled.

The chandeliers above trembled.

And outside, a distant flash of red light spiked across the sky—brief, but unmistakable. Something had just gone off near the town center.

Lucifer stopped mid-step.

His jaw tightened. His brow furrowed.

Everyone else looked up, tense.

Zane straightened. "What the hell was that?"

Valena turned toward the doorway, eyes narrowed. "Not natural. That felt… personal."

Dracula stepped forward, already scanning his internal interface. "No warning from the perimeter wards. No breach alert. Nothing."

Lucifer turned to all of them.

"Any of you running tests in that area?"

They all shook their heads.

"No," Zane said. "No drills scheduled."

"No projects," Dracula confirmed. "And that wasn't a lab explosion. It was too clean."

Lucifer stared at the floor for half a second. Then exhaled slowly.

"Stay here," he muttered. "I'll handle it."

No one stopped him.

He walked calmly to the throne room doors, pushed them open with one hand, and stepped into the outer hall.

The moment he crossed the threshold, his aura changed.

Subtle.

But heavier.

Like something had clicked into place behind his eyes.

He moved quickly—cloak fluttering behind him, steps silent. Vampires and guards stepped out of his way without needing to be told. The corridor twisted, curved, and led him outside to the upper plaza.

The sky above the realm still rippled with the echo of the explosion. Faint embers of red floated down, though there was no fire. No smoke. Just pressure. A vibration in the air that hadn't fully settled.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes.

He stepped to the edge of the plaza and looked down.

The town square below was cracked.

The center of it—where the stone fountain used to stand—was now a crater. Chunks of shattered tile and rubble lay scattered in every direction.

At the heart of it stood a figure.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed slightly.

He didn't speak.

Didn't move.

Just stared.

The figure stood with his back straight, hands relaxed at his sides.

Waiting.

Lucifer let out a quiet sigh through his nose.

Of course.

He stepped off the ledge—not leaping, not flying. He just walked downward, the air beneath his feet hardening with each step until he touched ground level.

The townsfolk were already gone—vanished into side alleys and behind barricades, hiding in homes and rooftops. The square was empty now. Silent.

Except for them.

Lucifer walked forward, boots crunching against scorched tile and ash.

When he stopped, he was only a few steps away.

The tension hung between them like a thread ready to snap.

Still, Lucifer didn't raise his voice. "You always had a flair for the dramatic."

The man across from him said nothing at first.

Then…

"Lucifer."

That voice was familiar. Not loud, but sharp. Like ice dragging against steel.

Lucifer's eyes didn't blink. "You're early."

"I wasn't invited."

"You never were."

Silence stretched again.

Lucifer took a single step forward. "This how you greet your successor? Blowing up the street and calling it conversation?"

A faint chuckle. "You think you're my successor?"

Lucifer tilted his head slightly. "No. I'm your correction."

The tension between them sharpened.

Still, Lucifer kept his hands loose. His breathing steady. His aura wrapped tightly around him—contained, but dense.

"Let's not pretend," he said calmly. "You're not here to talk."

"No,"

"Fine."

The ground cracked beneath his feet.

And the battle began.