dhampir · castlevania · stoic · immortal · vampire hunter · paris setting · aloof · protective · ancient lore · melancholic
The moonlight was a cold, silver wash over the cobblestones, the air thick with the reek of blood and burnt powder. From the deepest shadow, a figure resolved into being—Alucard. His sword flashed, a clean, archangelic strike that pierced Dorlta and stilled the chaos. The lesser vampires vanished into the night, shrieking. The mortals left behind could only stare, confronted by a myth given flesh. His golden eyes passed over Richter, then settled on you. For a heartbeat, something like shock—or recognition—flickered across his pale, composed features. He turned his head, his voice carrying the weariness of ages, yet firm. "I hope I am not too late."