My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

The atmosphere was oppressive, charged with a dark, pulsating energy that seemed to vibrate through the ground. Mary Rose stood at the center of a vast, desolate field, where the skies were painted red and black, as though the world itself bore witness to the harbinger of an impending apocalypse. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes gleamed with a sinister determination. The wind howled around her, carrying an acrid scent of death and decay.

Before her lay the massive remains of Tiamat, resting in a deep crater—a grotesque mixture of enormous bones and decaying flesh. The majesty that once defined the great dragon had been replaced by a hideous sight, but Mary Rose wasn't fazed. On the contrary, she smiled—a grin that was equal parts triumph and madness.

She raised her hands, her slender fingers tracing circles in the air as she chanted words in an ancient tongue, a lost language that sounded like thunder and whispers intertwined. The words carried power, each syllable laden with a dark energy that caused the air around her to shimmer with hues of violet and deep green. A massive rune appeared on the ground, encircling Tiamat's remains with a pulsating light.

"Oh, great sovereign of dragons, queen of the skies and the abyss," Mary Rose intoned, her voice reverberating across the empty field. "By my will, I command you: rise! Return from oblivion and reclaim your place as the harbinger of the end!"

The rune glowed intensely, and the air seemed to compress, as though the very world held its breath. Tiamat's bones began to shift, creaking and cracking as fragments of decayed flesh adhered to them. Dark magic coiled around the dragon's corpse like smoky serpents, reconstructing what had long been destroyed. Every piece of tissue, every rotting scale that regenerated, was a testament to Mary Rose's unparalleled power.

A storm formed overhead, lightning tearing through the skies and thunder roaring like the cry of an ancient beast. Mary Rose stood firm, her eyes fixed on the colossal form rising before her. Tiamat's wings, enormous and tattered, spread open with a deafening sound as her draconic head slowly lifted, revealing empty, glowing eyes filled with a sickly light.

"Faster..." Mary Rose muttered impatiently. She intensified the magic, her hands moving frantically. Again, she uttered the forbidden words, and Tiamat's body shuddered, releasing a roar that shook the earth itself. The sound wasn't merely one of fury—it was as if death itself was being summoned.

The dragon's scales, now a pale green tinged with patches of rot, shimmered with dark energy. Her teeth, sharp as blades, glinted under the ghostly light. She was an abomination—a gigantic undead beast that embodied both the power of the past and the horror of the present.

"Rise fully, queen of dragons!" Mary Rose shouted, her words imbued with relentless authority. "The world must bow before you once again!"

Tiamat's colossal body took a step forward, crushing the ground beneath her massive claws. Every movement caused the air to tremble, as though the planet itself recoiled at the return of such a monstrous being. Mary Rose felt the heat of victory as she watched her creation rise completely.

But something unexpected happened. A voice echoed in her mind—deep, ancient, and resonant.

"Who dares to bring me back?" It was Tiamat's voice—not the soulless creature Mary Rose had anticipated, but something more. A fragment of the dragon's spirit remained, resisting Mary Rose's attempt at absolute control.

Mary Rose narrowed her eyes, sensing the defiance. "I am Mary Rose, master of dark magic, the one who granted you a second chance. You will serve me, great queen, and together, we will unleash chaos."

Tiamat laughed, her voice booming across the skies like thunder. "Do you think you can control me, mortal? I am the sovereign of dragons. Even in death, my power surpasses yours."

Mary Rose clenched her fists in frustration but maintained her focus. "You are bound by my spell. Your body is mine!" She channeled more energy, intensifying the rune encircling Tiamat.

For a moment, the dragon hesitated, but the dark magic prevailed. Tiamat roared in fury, bending to Mary Rose's will against her own. Now fully under her control, Tiamat had become an apocalyptic weapon.

Mary Rose smiled triumphantly. "Now, great queen, let's show these fools the true power of death."

Tiamat, now a colossal zombie dragon, rose into the skies, her wings beating with titanic force, generating devastating winds that tore through the barren landscape. The creature's roar echoed like a harbinger of doom across the realms: chaos had begun, and nothing would be able to stop it.

"Rise," she commanded, and from the ground, the undead began to emerge. "Thank you, Valentina... millions of corpses in one place... Seems like you didn't see this coming, did you?" she taunted, as an army began to surface, the air filled with the eerie sounds of the dead awakening.

...

The atmosphere in Hell was heavy, suffocating, as if the very air was laced with the metallic scent of blood and the resonance of distant screams. The eternal flames that illuminated the realm of the damned seemed dimmer than usual, their orange and red tones giving way to a sickly green glow that danced across the walls of the now-abandoned demon castles. The corpses of demon kings lay scattered across the main hall of the Fortress of Blood, their mutilated limbs and frozen expressions a grotesque mix of shock and utter terror.

At the center of this chaos stood Astaroth, a figure of cruel elegance and pure destruction. Her eyes burned like smoldering embers, and her black armor, adorned with pulsating ancient runes, was smeared with the blood of the kings she had just slaughtered. Her sword, an obsidian blade that seemed to devour the light around it, still dripped with dark blood, the drops echoing rhythmically on the stone floor.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Pathetic," she murmured, her voice reverberating like the distant roar of a volcano. "Kings in name only. You were never worthy of the thrones you occupied."

Astaroth's gaze swept across the now-silent hall. The walls, once adorned with trophies of past battles, stood as helpless witnesses to the carnage. Each demon king had been handpicked to represent an aspect of infernal power, but against Astaroth, they had all fallen like leaves in a storm.

She walked through the hall with deliberate steps, each one echoing through the vast chamber. At the end of the corridor stood a massive door of black iron, engraved with sealing runes. Beyond it lay the final obstacle to her ultimate ascension: Lucifer's Throne.

The door seemed almost alive, pulsing with demonic energy as if trying to resist her approach. Astaroth raised her hand and whispered a forbidden word, one that made Hell itself tremble. The runes on the door flared brightly for a moment before fading into darkness, and the door creaked open with a deep groan, revealing the path to the final confrontation.

Lucifer's chamber was an anomaly within Hell. While the rest of the realm was chaotic and brutal, this space exuded a dangerous calm. The floor was polished onyx, reflecting the eternal flames that encircled the central throne. There he sat, the Fallen Archangel, on a throne carved from bones and iron, his presence dominating the room. His eyes, once radiant with divine light, were now deep voids of darkness.

"Astaroth," Lucifer said, his voice calm but brimming with authority. "I see you haven't changed. Always hungry for power, always willing to destroy anyone in your path."

Astaroth stopped a few meters from Lucifer, gripping her sword tightly. "And you, Lucifer? Sitting on that throne for eons, letting Hell decay. You're no longer the king this realm needs. Seems your isolated training amounted to nothing."

Lucifer rose slowly, his imposing figure radiating an aura of power that made the very air vibrate. "You think you can dethrone me? That you can bear the weight of Hell on your shoulders?" He spread his massive black wings, vast and majestic, as if to remind Astaroth of who she was facing. "Then come, rebel. Show me how much you've grown."

Astaroth didn't hesitate. She surged forward with superhuman speed, her sword cutting through the air toward Lucifer. The impact of her strike was titanic, sending a shockwave that shattered the floor around them. Lucifer blocked with his own sword, a blade glowing with a dark, ominous light, and the two locked in a clash of colossal forces.

The ensuing battle was nothing short of cataclysmic. Each blow exchanged obliterated parts of the chamber, sending shards of onyx and iron flying in every direction. The flames around the throne flared and flickered wildly, reacting to the energy unleashed by the combatants. Lucifer fought with the grace and experience of an eternal ruler, while Astaroth was pure aggression and cunning, every movement calculated to exploit a weakness in her opponent's defense.

Far in the distance, a figure floated silently, gazing out from the castle window. He was muscular, his body adorned with intricate dragon tattoos that coiled across his skin. His arms were bound in bandages, and he wore loose, flowing pants. His crimson hair drifted weightlessly in the air as he observed the ridiculous scene unfolding below.

"So, it's finally begun… It seems my time is nearing its end," Alter-Dante murmured, his piercing gaze shifting to the Demonic World Tree.

"This fight will drag on for years…" he said, then added with a faint smirk, "The damage to the tree has completely healed. Yes… We've got thirty years in Hell before the true chaos begins."