PRIME APEX

The moment the ancient vampires emerged from the shadows, the atmosphere shifted. There was no sudden movement, no aggression—just a heavy silence that carried the weight of centuries.

Vlad was the first to step forward, his posture commanding yet composed.

"Vladimir Mračný," he introduced himself, his voice calm but firm.

Xander moved beside him, taking a deliberate step forward, his presence just as formidable.

"Xander Caelum Ravenscroft."

The gathered vampires remained motionless, their expressions unreadable.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, one of them broke the silence, stepping forward with an air of quiet authority.

I had expected hostility, wariness—perhaps even suspicion. But instead, the man's expression was one of recognition, maybe even reverence.

"It is an honor to meet both of you," he said, his voice steady.

His gaze flicked to Xander first, his eyes gleaming with something almost knowing.

"The Ravenscroft bloodline… Finally, one of your kind has arrived. It has been long awaited."

Then, he turned to Vlad.

"And Vladimir the Sire… An honor, indeed."

His gaze lingered on Vlad for a moment before he inclined his head slightly.

"My name is Vektor."

Vlad returned the gesture. "It is an honor to meet you as well, Vektor."

Xander, ever the embodiment of old-world manners, offered a slight bow, a sign of respect.

There was no need for further pleasantries. Vlad wasted no time.

"We need to see the Grand Vampire, Dracule."

At the mention of the name, the chamber seemed to grow colder. The other vampires did not react outwardly, but something in the air shifted—an unspoken tension, like the subtle drawing of breath before something monumental.

I had remained silent, content to observe from the sidelines, but then—Vektor turned his gaze toward me.

His eyes, an unsettling shade of deep amber, studied me with unnerving intensity.

I felt Xander tense beside me, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Vlad's expression shift slightly. They exchanged a glance—brief, but meaningful.

I swallowed hard.

Without further explanation, Vektor simply turned on his heel and motioned for us to follow.

"Come. Dracule will see you now."

The walk wasn't long, but the weight of the moment made it feel like miles. The underground corridors were carved from solid rock, lined with strange, ancient symbols that seemed to pulse faintly under the dim torchlight.

The deeper we went, the more oppressive the air became, thick with something I couldn't define. Power. It clung to the walls, seeped into the very stone beneath our feet.

The further we walked, the heavier my chest felt.

We reached a massive set of iron doors, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to shift under the flickering light.

Vektor stopped before them and turned to us.

"Wait here."

And then, without another word, he disappeared through the doors, leaving us standing in the cavernous hall.

The minutes dragged on.

Xander stood tense, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning our surroundings.

Vlad, on the other hand, appeared perfectly at ease, though there was something calculating in his expression—anticipation, perhaps.

I, however, could only focus on my racing heart.

Then, at last, the doors groaned open. Vektor stepped out.

"You may enter."

With that, we stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the unknown.

The chamber was vast, carved deep into the mountain itself, its walls layered with ancient stone.

Faint traces of gold and silver veins shimmered within the rock, reflecting the dim torchlight.

The air was thick—dense with a presence I couldn't explain. It felt like stepping into another world, one untouched by time.

At the far end of the chamber, seated upon a throne of black stone, was Dracule.

I had expected something monstrous, something withered and skeletal. Instead, what I saw was… unsettling.

Dracule looked human, but only just. His skin was flawless yet unnaturally pale, like sculpted marble.

His long, silver-white hair cascaded down his shoulders, framing sharp, aristocratic features that were too symmetrical, too perfect to be real.

But it was his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine.

Deep red, darker than Xander's or Vlad's—like dried blood, centuries old. They held no warmth, no flicker of emotion. Just an abyss of knowledge and power.

His robe, an impossibly dark fabric, shimmered faintly under the dim light, almost as if it absorbed the surrounding shadows.

Golden embroidery wove intricate patterns along the edges—symbols I couldn't decipher, yet they stirred something in me.

Then, the moment we stepped closer, he lifted his gaze.

A force rippled through the chamber, invisible but undeniable. My breath hitched, my chest tightening as if the very air around us had grown heavier.

He was looking at me.

Not Vlad. Not Xander. Me.

A slow, cold smile curved his lips.

"So," Dracule said, his voice smooth yet carrying an undeniable weight.

"You've finally come."

I swallowed hard. "I—"

"You are not what I expected," he mused, leaning forward slightly, his crimson eyes burning into mine.

"But you will do."

A chill crawled up my spine. Do for what?

Vlad stepped forward, his tone measured. "We have come seeking answers, Grand One."

Dracule's gaze flickered to him, and for a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, a slow smirk.

"The scent of your blood is very strong, human."

His gaze returned to me, sharper now.

"To begin, I need to know about your family. Your parents, any relatives?"

"I'm an orphan. I don't know them. I grew up in an orphanage."

Dracule's expression remained unreadable. Then, without warning—

"Come," he said.

My feet moved before I could think. As I stepped closer, he reached out, placing a cold palm against my forehead.

The moment his skin touched mine, something snapped—a sensation like a thousand lightning bolts striking at once.

I gasped, my vision flooding with flashes of something—something old, something not of this world.

Dracule pulled his hand back with a sharp inhale, his expression shifting for the first time.

Shock.

True, undeniable shock.

His lips parted slightly, and then, in a voice that carried through the chamber like a death knell, he whispered—

"You're the Prime Apex."

I froze. The what?

The words meant nothing to me. But when I turned, I saw Xander and Vlad's faces—both equally stunned, their disbelief mirroring Dracule's.