Vampire Progenitor System

The runes glowed brighter now.

The witches’ chants rose and fell like distant ocean waves, quiet but unbreakable, echoing softly through the fractured hall. Blood brushed across the marble in thin arcs as Serah moved her brush with shaking precision, sweat and tears dripping down her chin to mingle with the crimson lines. Greta stood over her, iron chains drifting like silent sentinels in the flickering gloom, whispering quiet prayers in an old tongue only she remembered.

Lucifer stood silent near the edge of the circle, his white hair drifting softly around his pale, bloodstreaked face. Francisca’s limp body rested against his chest, her tails curled faintly in death’s stillness. His red eyes burned quietly as he scanned the hall—taking in the witches, the family heads gathering at the broken gates, the hunters tending to the wounded.

Then his gaze narrowed.

His aura pulsed faintly, flickering crimson across the marble floor.

”Where is she...?” he whispered.

He searched the hall again, slower this time, eyes scanning every face. Ella stood near the witches, helping them pour fresh blood into silver vials. Ken leaned against a shattered pillar, his arm bandaged roughly, talking quietly with Angel who sat beside him, clutching a broken spear in her trembling hands.

But there was no Luna.

The air around him grew heavier. The rune lines flickered as his aura pressed into them, making the witches flinch back instinctively.

He turned sharply.

”Ken. Angel. Ella.”

They jumped at the cold edge in his voice and looked at him quickly.

He stepped forward, his bare feet silent on the cold marble. Francisca’s tails trailed behind him across the bloodstained floor.

”When this rune is ready,” he said quietly, ”you three will make sure everyone goes through it. No one stays behind.”

Ella blinked, tears gathering in her eyes as she nodded quickly. ”What... what about you...?”

Lucifer’s gaze burned deeper. ”That is not your concern now.”

He turned away from them, scanning the hall again before his eyes fell on the kneeling clone at the edge of the rune circle. His black hair hung around his face in limp, blood-matted strands, and his wings were folded tight against his trembling back. He looked up as Lucifer approached, his red irises flickering faintly in the dim light.

Lucifer stood over him, silent for a long moment. Then he reached out, pressing his palm against the clone’s forehead. The runes along Lucifer’s arm flickered brighter, glowing molten crimson as faint streams of light flowed from his fingertips into the clone’s trembling body.

The clone gasped softly, his wings twitching against the floor as his eyes widened. Images flooded his mind—memories that weren’t his. Battles fought under pale moons. Words spoken in darkness to kings and traitors alike. Promises made. Secrets kept. Grief buried. Rage unleashed. Quiet moments of warmth with Francisca, Vulpina, the Origin family.

It was overwhelming. But he let it flow into him, tears slipping down his black-sclera eyes as he bowed his head under Lucifer’s quiet power.

Lucifer lowered his hand.

”Listen to me,” he said softly.

The clone trembled, his wings flickering faintly as he looked up into Lucifer’s burning crimson gaze.

”I need you to act in my stead,” Lucifer continued. ”If I do not return in time... make sure the werewolves and vampires do not fight in the Vampire Realm. If possible, let the other races go back to their realms. And as for the humans... make sure the current Lord of the Vampire Realm understands why they must be left alone.”

The clone blinked, silent tears dripping onto the marble below. ”And... and if they refuse...?”

Lucifer’s gaze didn’t waver. ”Then make them understand.”

The clone’s wings trembled harder as he nodded. His fingers curled against the bloodstreaked marble, claws digging faintly into the cracked stone.

”I... I will not fail you...” he whispered.

Lucifer’s eyes softened for a moment. Just for a breath.

”I know.”

He stepped back. The witches’ chanting grew louder as the rune circle flared brighter, lines of flickering purple and black folding inward toward the centre in trembling arcs of light. Greta barked another command, her chains rattling sharply against the marble as Serah poured fresh blood across the inner glyphs.

Ken limped forward slightly, leaning on Angel’s shoulder.

”Where... where are you going...?” he asked softly, his voice tight with pain and exhaustion.

Lucifer turned to them, his white hair drifting across his silent red eyes. The dying dawn flickered beyond the broken walls, streaks of black lightning burning across the distant sky as the world’s core trembled under Adam’s silent conquest.

”To bring her,” he said softly.

Then his body dissolved.

It happened in silence—his form folding inward into black mist, trailing up into the dim air like dying smoke. Francisca’s body vanished with him, tails flickering into nothing as the mist spiralled away, leaving only faint echoes of his crimson aura drifting across the cracked marble.

The clone remained kneeling in the empty space he left behind, trembling as new memories settled into his bones like old ghosts finding their graves. He clenched his fists tight against the floor, tears dripping from his chin to mingle with the blood runes glowing softly beneath him.

Ella stepped forward, brushing her tears from her cheeks as she knelt beside him. Her trembling fingers brushed against his black hair, tucking it back behind his ear as she whispered softly.

”You... you can do this...”

He didn’t look at her. His eyes burned quietly, flickering with crimson light as he forced his wings to spread behind him, feathers dripping faint trails of dark mist onto the marble.

”I have to,” he whispered back.

Behind them, Greta’s voice rose louder, echoing across the shattered hall as the teleportation circle reached its final stage. The blood runes pulsed bright purple now, casting flickering shadows across the gathered families and witches. Hunters gathered their weapons tighter. Mothers held their crying children closer. The family heads stood silent at the rune’s edge, their old eyes locked on the glowing lines with silent dread.

The world trembled again.

A deep, quiet quake that pressed into their bones like a final heartbeat slowing under a dying sky.

The clone rose slowly. His wings curled behind him as he turned to face the gathered survivors. His red eyes burned quietly as he stepped forward, carrying Lucifer’s presence in the quiet gravity of his aura.

”Everyone,” he said, his voice low but carrying across the flickering hall. ”Prepare yourselves.”

The witches began their final chants.

Serah lifted her brush, lines of blood trailing from the bristles as she traced the last rune on the marble’s glowing surface. Greta raised her chains behind her, iron links flickering with old runic light as they curled into protective arcs around the circle’s edge.

Outside, the sky darkened further. Black lightning rippled across the swirling grey clouds as silent ash drifted down onto the cracked city below. The wind carried the scent of dying magic and burning stone into the HQ, rustling the torn banners hanging from shattered pillars.

The clone clenched his fists tighter.

His wings spread wider behind him.

He lowered his head.

And silently, he prayed Lucifer would return before it was too late.