"People always die with regrets."
The sky had turned blood-red. Distant screams faded into silence, carried away by the wind. He sat on the ground, cradling her lifeless body in his arms. Tears spilled from his crimson eyes.
"Was it worth it?" he whispered to the heavens. A cold breeze swept across the scorched land, lifting strands of his silver hair. Behind him, the fire roared louder, devouring the ruins.
When he opened his eyes again, a figure appeared—a tall, emaciated man floating above the ground. His hair was impossibly long, trailing down to his legs, and his glowing eyes bore a look of weary disappointment.
Without moving his lips, a voice echoed from within him.
"Arvard... what have you done?"
Arvard said nothing. He looked back at the girl's face. Even in death, she wore a faint, peaceful smile.
Lifting his eyes to meet the man's, he spoke softly but firmly.
"Bring her back."
The glowing-eyed man did not respond immediately. Instead, he stared into the distance, where flames continued to rise.
"I want her back," Arvard repeated, bowing his head.
The man's mouth moved this time.
"It can't be done. You know that."
Arvard's eyes met his again, pleading.
"Please."
The floating figure turned away, his long hair swaying with the motion.
"Even if it were possible... would you surrender the mastership?" the voice echoed again, from within.
Arvard's throat tightened.
"I... cannot."
The man sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Then there's no point in wasting my time."
"Wait!" Arvard shouted.
The man turned his gaze back.
"I cannot give it now. The mastership can only change... after my death." Arvard explained.
"Still, I see no reason to wait."
Arvard gently laid her body on the ground and stood.
"Resurrect her, and I will transfer the mastership to whomever you choose."
The man didn't answer immediately. His glowing eyes flicked to the side as something massive approached. A colossal figure, over twelve feet tall, slowly came into view—its only visible features were its enormous horns and two gleaming red eyes, glowing like embers in the dark.
"Here's what I can offer," the man finally said. "You will never use its power again. And when the time comes, you will transfer the mastership according to our terms."
Arvard nodded.
The man glanced at the girl's body.
"One more thing... you'll have to wait. About a thousand years."
"What?" Arvard asked, stunned.
"That's all I can offer," the man said, grinning.
Arvard's voice dropped low, defeated.
"Two hundred years." He knew it was pointless, but he had to try.
"Not a day less, not a day more."
Arvard clenched his fists.
"And if I start destroying—"
"You do whatever you want," the man interrupted. "Kill, burn, rage—but for what? I'm giving you a fair deal, Arvard. Be practical."
He looked once more at the girl.
"Will she have her memories?"
"I doubt it," the man said with a laugh. "But who knows? Anything's possible."
Arvard closed his eyes and nodded.
"Fine. I accept your terms."
He raised his hand, and with a simple snap, the monstrous figure dissolved into ash, vanishing into the wind.
The man gazed down at the girl. Her body began to glow and slowly lifted into the air.
"Let me repeat the terms, Arvard." His voice grew colder.
"She will be resurrected after one thousand years. In return, you will never use its powers again, and you will surrender the mastership as instructed. Break this vow..." he paused. "And she won't be the only thing we gods take from you."
One thousand years later.
At a quiet construction site in the heart of Ampher Isle, under the veil of midnight, a group of workers dug relentlessly beneath the earth. Their lamps cast eerie shadows across the muddy ground.
Then one of them shouted, "We found it!"
A black coffin emerged from the soil—its surface was smooth, untouched by time, marked only by a large golden cross. Using a small crane, they carefully lifted it to the surface.
From the shadows, a man in a matte-black long coat ran toward them. His eyes gleamed with manic excitement, and a twisted grin stretched across his face.
"Place it gently!" he barked, his voice trembling with anticipation. As soon as he touched the coffin, something strange passed through him—like a jolt of energy. He gasped and staggered backward.
"Everyone! Leave. Now."
The workers exchanged nervous glances but obeyed without question. After all, he was the boss.
Once they were gone, the man stood alone before the coffin. He opened his arms wide and closed his eyes.
"It's just the two of us now." His voice dropped into reverence. From his inner coat pocket, he retrieved a glass vial filled with dark red blood.
He stepped forward.
"Prince Arvard Luther de Ampher, son of King Luther Lyon de Ampher... awaken from your slumber. A thousand years have passed since the day your world ended."
He uncorked the vial and slowly let a single drop of blood fall onto the coffin.
The instant the blood touched the wood, a swarm of massive, red-eyed bats burst from the shadows, circling the coffin in a blinding storm. The man stumbled back, shielding his face. The bats shrieked and flapped violently, hiding the coffin from view.
Then—silence.
In a split second, the bats vanished into the sky like smoke.
And standing atop the coffin was a man.
He wore tattered black robes, and his silver hair flowed past his shoulders. His face was concealed by an aged, expressionless mask, hiding his eyes, lips, and nose. Only his pale ears peeked out, though even they seemed shy behind the strands of gleaming hair.
On his left hand were two rings: a black one set with a green gem on his ring finger, and a gold one with a blood-red jewel on his index.
The kneeling man trembled before him.
"Arise," the masked figure said calmly.
The man stood, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Arvard stepped down from the coffin and spoke for the first time in centuries.
"It has been a long time, Biltus."
"Yes, my lord," Biltus whispered. "May this lowly servant dare to gaze upon your face?"
Without a word, Arvard raised his left hand and slowly removed the mask.
Beneath it was the face of a young man—ageless and pale—with eyes like burning crimson diamonds. Their glow was cold, piercing, and terrifyingly beautiful.
Biltus glanced up—and gasped. His heart skipped a beat.
There he was. The same prince he had sworn loyalty to a thousand years ago.
"I hope I wasn't disturbed," Arvard said, almost playfully.
Biltus smiled nervously.
Arvard's face stiffened.
"Tell me."
"Yes, my lord. The resurrection was a success. Madam has been reborn… and she looks exactly as she did before."
Arvard froze. His thoughts raced like a storm through his mind.
"Is something troubling you, my prince?" Biltus asked gently.
Arvard tilted his head toward the sky and let a small smile appear.
"No… perhaps this time, everything will go right."
"Of course, my prince." Biltus touched his heart and bowed.
"Where is she now?"
"Safe. Likely asleep in her hostel room." Biltus explained. "She's attending our school here on the island."
"School…? A place to study?" Arvard asked, confused.
"Yes," Biltus replied. "But ours is… special."
"How so?"
"It's an elite institution—world-famous. Only a handful are chosen each year. Vampires and humans study there together, though the humans are unaware of the truth."
The moment those words left Biltus's mouth, Arvard's demeanor shifted. His fury surged.
In a blink, he grabbed Biltus by the collar and lifted him with one hand.
"You let her study with vampires?" he growled.
Biltus struggled to breathe.
"I-It… wasn't… my choice…"
Arvard dropped him.
"Explain."
Coughing and holding his throat, Biltus managed to say,
"Hurting a human is punishable by death. Not an ordinary death—silver nail chambers. Trust me, Master… that school is the only place I can protect her. Constantly."
Arvard sighed and turned his eyes away.
"We'll see about that."
"My great-grandson is in the same class as her," Biltus added.
"Your… great-grandson? Unexpected." Arvard let out a dry chuckle.
Biltus chuckled too, then pulled a sleek object from his coat pocket.
Arvard stared at it, puzzled.
"What is that?"
"A phone," Biltus said, pressing a button. "Calling our transport."
Moments later, a black Bentley rolled smoothly into the lot.
Biltus gestured toward it.
"This world has changed, Master. Humans have created wonders beyond imagination."
Arvard stared in awe.
"What is that?"
"A car. A machine for transportation."
As they approached, the doors opened automatically.
"Please, Master. Have a seat."
Inside, Arvard lowered himself onto the leather seat. He turned, eyes wide.
"Come. Sit beside me. I swear on the Ampher name—this seat is more comfortable than my old throne."
"I'm not worthy," Biltus said, hesitating.
"That was an order."
Biltus obeyed and sat beside him. The door shut silently.
As the car reversed and glided into motion, Arvard sat still—his expression unreadable.
He closed his eyes, concentrating. The blood Biltus had used earlier began to unlock memories from the donor—memories Arvard now explored silently.
A new world. A second chance. And somewhere out there… she was waiting.