The cold of the stone throne seeped into Ren's skin, but his mind burned hotter than ever.
His name wasn't Veylar. He wasn't some ancient vampire king. He was Ren Sakamura—a university student who had stayed up too late playing vampire games and reading web novels.
And yet… the weight of the body he now inhabited was undeniable.
The way his voice echoed with unnatural command.
The power lurking under his skin—coiled like a serpent, waiting to strike.
It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, with no way back down.
The doors to the chamber creaked open.
Selene returned, followed by six figures cloaked in dark robes. Each wore a mask of bone, carved in monstrous visages—serpents, wolves, and bats among them. Despite their concealed faces, Ren felt their gazes pierce through him.
They knelt in unison.
"Crimson Sovereign," they intoned, their voices layered with magic and reverence. "We answer your summons."
Selene remained standing by Ren's side, her silver eyes gleaming faintly under her veil.
"My Lord," she said softly, "these are the Night Heralds—your inner circle, bound to your will."
Ren's throat tightened.
Inner circle? He wasn't ready for this. He didn't know a single thing about this world beyond the fact that he was now its most feared monster.
But showing fear now would be suicide.
He let instinct guide him, forcing himself to sit straighter on the throne, his hands resting lightly on its arms. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim chamber.
"Speak," Ren commanded, his voice steady. "Tell me of the world's state since my… slumber."
The Night Heralds exchanged brief glances but did not question his wording.
One of them—masked as a serpent—spoke first, his voice sibilant and low.
"The mortal kingdoms grow bold, my Lord. In your absence, they have pushed the borders of the Nocturne Dominion. Their Hunters roam freely under the blessing of the Church of Lumis."
Hunters. Church. Mortal kingdoms.
Ren's mind raced.
"Do they threaten the heartlands?" he asked, testing the waters.
The wolf-masked Herald responded this time, her voice sharp and clipped.
"They dare not approach Castle Nyxthar itself, my Lord. Your name still carries weight. But their numbers swell, and their weapons grow… potent."
Ren's lips tightened.
It was like every dark fantasy story he had ever read. Humans expanding, fueled by religion and fear, waging war against monsters in the name of light.
He needed more.
"And the other Sovereigns?" Ren asked.
At this, there was a noticeable shift in the air.
The bat-masked Herald answered cautiously.
"They watch, my Lord. Some with hope. Others with… concern."
Selene's voice cut through the tension.
"The Sovereigns' Council has not convened in your absence," she said. "They waited for your return beneath the Blood Moon. Now, they will seek audience."
Ren's mind latched onto that.
A council of powerful beings—likely other vampire lords, or worse.
And they would soon be coming for him.
He could feel the noose tightening around his neck.
Still, he couldn't afford to hesitate.
"I will meet them when I am ready," Ren said firmly, allowing a hint of coldness into his voice. "Until then, no one enters this castle uninvited."
The Heralds bowed deeper.
"As you command."
Ren rose slowly from his throne, every movement deliberate, masking the storm of panic within.
"Leave me," he said. "Selene stays."
Without hesitation, the Night Heralds retreated, their footsteps vanishing into the shadows beyond the hall.
As the doors closed behind them, silence returned.
Ren let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Selene remained at his side, watching him closely.
"You speak with power already, my Lord," she said, a faint note of approval in her voice.
Ren's facade slipped slightly.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted under his breath.
To his surprise, Selene smiled—not mockingly, but with something almost akin to fondness.
"You remember more than you think," she said cryptically.
Ren's brow furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
Selene turned, gesturing for him to follow.
"Come," she said. "There is much you must see—and remember."
He hesitated for only a moment before following her deeper into the castle.
The halls of Castle Nyxthar were vast and labyrinthine, built of dark stone and filled with windows of stained glass depicting ancient battles, monstrous beasts, and the ever-present symbol of the Blood Moon.
Candles burned with blue flame in wall sconces shaped like clawed hands, casting dancing shadows on every surface.
As they walked, Ren could feel something beneath his skin—like echoes of forgotten memories stirring.
Selene led him into a circular chamber lined with towering bookshelves, filled with tomes bound in leather, bone, and even metal.
At the center stood a pedestal, upon which rested a thick, crimson-bound book.
Selene approached it reverently.
"The Crimson Codex," she said softly. "Your legacy, my Lord. The record of all pacts, powers, and secrets of the Elder-Blooded."
Ren stared at the book warily.
"And you expect me to just… remember everything from reading that?"
Selene's eyes glimmered faintly.
"You do not need to read it," she said. "It will remember you."
Before he could protest, she placed her hand on the Codex—and it flared with red light.
Ren's body froze.
Pain lanced through him, sharp and blinding—but not physical. It was deeper, striking at his mind and soul.
Images flooded him in a torrent.
Endless nights under scarlet skies.
Armies of fanged warriors bowing at his feet.
Forbidden rituals bathed in moonlight.
Battles against silver-clad Hunters wielding weapons of sunfire.
Whispers of names, titles, powers.
And through it all—his own face, regal and terrifying, watching from the shadows.
Veylar Drakonis.
The Crimson Sovereign.
The weight of centuries slammed into him.
When the vision finally released him, he staggered, gasping for breath he didn't need.
Selene steadied him with surprising gentleness.
"You see now," she said softly.
Ren's mind spun.
He could still remember himself—Ren Sakamura, the human—but layered atop it were fragments of Veylar's memories, scattered but terrifyingly vivid.
I'm both, he realized, cold dread filling him.
He was Ren.
But he was also Veylar.
Selene watched him carefully, as if waiting for him to shatter.
But instead, Ren straightened slowly, his hands curling into fists.
"I need more time," he said, his voice quieter but resolute. "I need to… sort this out."
Selene inclined her head gracefully.
"Time you shall have, my Lord," she said. "But not much. The Sovereigns will not wait long."
Ren's jaw clenched.
"I'll deal with them when they come," he muttered.
Selene's eyes shone with approval.
"Spoken like the Crimson Sovereign."
She stepped back, allowing him space.
Ren turned, gazing out the tall window beyond the chamber.
The sky outside was a deep, unnatural red, dominated by the looming Blood Moon.
Far below, he could see the sprawling lands of the Nocturne Dominion—forests black as ink, rivers that shimmered with faint crimson light, and villages tucked beneath ancient trees.
This wasn't just a castle.
It was an entire kingdom.
And it was his.
Whether I like it or not… I'm bound to this world now.
Ren's fingers tightened on the window ledge.
Then I'll survive. I'll learn. I'll play their game—until I find a way back.
If there even was a way back.
Selene's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"My Lord… there is something else."
Ren turned, brow raised.
She approached him with a parchment scroll, bound in black wax.
"The first summons has arrived," she said, offering it to him.
Ren accepted it cautiously.
The wax bore the mark of a silver crescent wrapped in thorns.
"The Sovereign of Duskwind Vale," Selene explained. "Lord Malrik—a rival in ages past. He requests audience… and offers a feast in your honor."
Ren's eyes narrowed.
"Feast or trap?"
Selene's lips curved slightly.
"In our world, there is little difference."
Ren exhaled slowly, staring down at the summons.
He had no allies here.
But he did have a reputation to maintain.
And if this Malrik was testing him, he couldn't afford to show weakness.
"Send word," Ren said, slipping fully into the role of Veylar. "Tell Lord Malrik I accept his invitation."
Selene's smile sharpened.
"As you will, my Lord."
She vanished into the shadows once more, her presence lingering like mist.
Ren was left alone in the chamber, the crimson light bathing him in its glow.
Somewhere deep within him, the fragments of Veylar's memories stirred again—whispering of ancient grudges, blood-soaked feasts, and games of power played in the dark.
Ren's reflection in the window stared back at him—crimson-eyed, regal, terrifying.
The man he had been was gone.
And in his place stood the Crimson Sovereign.
A king of monsters.
A prisoner of fate.
I'll play your game, Ren thought, his gaze unwavering.
But I'll write my own ending.
Outside, the Blood Moon burned brighter.
And far away, unseen eyes began to turn toward Castle Nyxthar.
The Crimson Sovereign had returned.
And the world would soon tremble.