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Vlad transformed into a swarm of blood-red bats, their furious eyes glowing with bloodlust—the fury that surged only when his great prey had been snatched from him once again. But this time, it was his own negligence that let the quarry slip away.

"Thalassar!" The monstrous roar echoed through the sky as the swarm of bats dispersed in all directions, seeking the fleeing archlich. The sound of countless bats squeaking in the night, paired with the eerie image of blood-red wings scattering like a crimson veil in the wind, created a surreal and menacing sight.

After a while, in the place where the battle had ended, a black skeletal hand emerged from the sand nearby, clawing its way upward as if trying to pull itself free. Another hand followed, and slowly, a body dragged itself out of the sand.

The black skeleton that emerged was none other than Thalassar, the archlich. With some effort, he finally freed himself from the dunes. Reaching for the personal bag slung at his waist, he opened it and pulled out the crown he usually wore.

This crown, forged from a mix of adamantine and corrupted steel, was known as the Black Crown of Solomon—a name that reflected Thalassar's wounded pride, though it had no real connection to the King Solomon himself, other than Thalassar wounded pride as he lost the throne to the king of Solomon..

"Phew…" Thalassar let out a sigh of relief, despite lacking lungs. "It's a good thing Vlad is an idiot," he muttered mockingly.

Squeak! Squeak! Tch! Tch!

The sharp squeaking pierced the silence. Slowly, Thalassar turned toward the sound... and there, he spotted a small blood-red bat standing on the sand nearby with a sinister haze in its eyes.

"Shit..." Thalassar cursed, quickly channeling his magic to cast another escape spell.

"Where do you think you're going, you damned old corpse?!" Vlad's roar reverberated through the night, shaking the mountains.

The swarm of blood-red bats returned from every direction, converging to reform Vlad's body, now crowned with madness. His bloodshot eyes reflected only violence and chaos.

Thalassar bolted, but the swarm of bats chased him relentlessly, closing in with terrifying speed.

Thus, the game of cat and mouse began—the desperate archlich fleeing for his life while the vampire king hunted him, occasionally hurling blood-red spears that exploded in the dunes with violent force. The echoes of blood-soaked detonations punctuated the night.

The chase only ended with the arrival of dawn. Though Vlad, the king of vampires, feared no sunlight, the daylight sapped his power and slowed his speed, allowing Thalassar to narrowly escape his clutches once more.

But not without a heavy cost. Thalassar's body was barely holding together with dark magic. More than once, Vlad's blood-spears had exploded far too close for comfort, and Thalassar had been unable to cast proper defensive spells while maintaining the speed needed to flee. He knew that if Vlad ever caught him, it would mean his final death.

With Thalassar vanished beneath the sea, Vlad could not simply dive in due to the curse of vampirism that forbids him from crossing running water. Of course, with the power of the Vampire King, and in his new reincarnation—stronger than ever—he could fly over running water.

But diving into it was something he couldn't do without paying a steep price, even for him. So, once again, Thalassar had eluded his grasp.

— Sultanate of Aqaba Royal Palace —

At the opulent palace of Arabian architecture, built from the finest marble imported from Rajasthan, India, one might wonder why the Al-Nazir royal family didn't source marble from Turkey, which is also known for high-quality stone. The reason lies in the strained relations between the Sultanate of Aqaba and Turkey, dating back to the reign of the Ottoman Empire.

The sultanate's ties with India were far stronger.

Suddenly, a swarm of blood-red bats flew down from the sky, startling the guards stationed in the courtyard. They quickly assumed defensive positions, aiming their weapons at the approaching cloud of bats.

Shahid, the Sultan's confidante, rushed out of the palace, raising his hand to halt the guards. "Stop! We're on the same side!" he commanded.

The guards lowered their weapons as the cloud of bats gathered into the silhouette of a middle-aged man in a blood-red suit, slowly descending from the sky. The bats converged, solidifying into the body of Vlad Dracula, the Count of Transylvania and King of the Vampires.

Seeing this, Shahid clapped his hands twice. A maid, trained in regal decorum, approached with a tray holding a cold blood bag.

"Count, please quench your thirst," Shahid said, as the maid offered the blood bag to Vlad.

Vlad smiled as he picked up the bag, tearing it open and drinking through the built-in straw.

After a few moments, with the blood drained to the last drop, Vlad placed the empty bag on the tray and spoke.

"This is good," Vlad said with a slight smile. "But I prefer the blood of a veteran warrior in his thirties, served warm. The stronger the warrior, the better. Thank you for the gesture." His tone was polite, yet he spoke like a gourmet critiquing a meal.

"Yes, Count. We'll keep that in mind," Shahid responded, bowing as the Vampire King made his way into the palace to deliver his report to his lord.

"That… is that guy crazy? Doesn't he find its smell too strong, drinking blood like that?"

"Idiot! Didn't you see how he arrived? That guy's definitely a vampire!"

"But vampires are fiction!"

"Then how do you explain what just happened?"

The guards whispered among themselves, shaken by Vlad's surreal entrance. The events that had just unfolded were difficult to believe.

As for Shahid, he was still reeling. Only yesterday morning, he knew nothing about magic or the supernatural. By nightfall, his world had been turned upside down. He learned of the hidden forces behind the curtain of reality—magic, supernatural beings, ghosts, and all manner of mythical creatures were real.

This was why most of the palace guards were unprepared for Vlad's arrival. Daniel and his people had only arrived at the palace the night before, quickly setting up a temporary base, and dispatching Vlad to hunt down the archlich before it could cross the borders of the Sultanate of Aqaba.

In the command room, where Daniel's people had set up an array of advanced communication and high-tech equipment, Vlad knelt on one knee before his lord, who sat on a sofa sipping hot coffee, having not slept since their arrival.

"Please punish me, my lord. I have failed the task you entrusted to me," Vlad said with guilt, fearing his lord's disappointment.

"It's fine, Count," Daniel replied, waving his hand dismissively, indicating it was a minor issue. "Sooner or later, he will resurface. Once our satellite network covers the entire globe, no matter where he runs, we'll find him. It's only a matter of time," Daniel added with a smile.

"Thank you, my lord," Vlad expressed his gratitude, standing and bowing to Daniel before excusing himself from the room.

Maliq Al-Nasir, the Sultan of Aqaba, sat on a nearby couch, marveling at the powerful beings who served Daniel and the incredible technology under his command—most of which was invented by Daniel himself.

It had been a wise decision to befriend Daniel and his New Atlantis. The Sultan realized he had gained far more than he bargained for. Allowing Daniel to build a weapons testing site and research lab in the desert had turned out to be a brilliant deal. Now, they were together to choose the building site while also helping him eliminate the warlords who sought to fracture his country.

"Sir! Alpha Team has met with heavy resistance at the Aqaba Mountain Range. They're requesting blade drone deployment," one of the communication officers reported to Gua Jia, who was seated and monitoring the situation on the screen nearby.

"Alpha Team? You mean Nicholas Sullivan? That war dog? The resistance must be intense if it's enough to make him request blade drones," Gua Jia remarked, impressed by the situation.

It was well-known that since the development of power armor and the introduction of advanced weaponry into their forces, they hadn't faced any resistance capable of pushing a veteran field commander like Nicholas Sullivan, a man who thrived in warfare, to ask for backup. Even during the Mage Families Uprising, the mages couldn't force him to request support.

But now? This was just resistance from ordinary warriors—battle-hardened veterans, perhaps—but still just ordinary people with outdated weapons. For them to drive Nicholas to seek assistance spoke volumes about whoever was commanding those forces.

"The Aqaba Mountain Range? Could it be Azis?" the Sultan wondered aloud, the only person he could imagine capable of putting up such a fight. Azis was both a respected warlord and a source of his constant frustration.

Compared to other warlords, Azis is considered more of a "good guy" because he genuinely cares for the common people of Aqaba. However, his stubborn nature and belief that the Sultan is too weak and unfit to rule continue to irk the Sultan to no end.