Beneath the blood-red sky, the melancholic breeze of dusk sighs, and a colossal white stone pierces the heavens, its surface oozing crimson blood. The starlight above dims, as if the stars themselves are poised to fall from the firmament.
Two adolescents stand atop the monolithic stone, one unarmed, the other wielding a silver sword, from whose tip blood drips.
"Brother, this is not the day for the blood sacrifice. What brings you to this place of doom?" queried the blood prince of the vampire line, Kael, his sapphire eyes glowing like torches in the blood-drenched night, the power of his pure bloodline surging within them.
"How old are you,弟弟?" Azar did not answer directly, his grip on the bloodline's sacred weapon, the Sword of Dusk, glistening with blood.
"I am 150 this year, brother. You have rather poor memory; last week, father and mother held a birthday feast for me in the royal city, and you were there too," Kael recounted.
"Hmph," Azar chuckled, "You are only 150. In the prime of your youth for a vampire, yet you have awakened all the talents of our kind, mastering seventy-two super blood abilities, with ninety-nine exquisite apostles and countless magical pets at your command. Your followers are countless, and you are the heir apparent to the throne, no matter how one looks at it." Azar smiled, his crimson eyes swirling with blood.
"Brother, what are you talking about? By the way, you haven't given me a birthday present yet! It's so disappointing!" Kael teased, his mind already scheming to compensate him handsomely, to make a handsome profit, hahaha.
"Dear brother, I have not forgotten your birthday present; I have prepared for this for a full 150 years," Azar's lips curled into a subtle smile, the blood in his eyes churning.
"150 years..." Kael's astonishment was palpable, "Brother, did you start preparing this when I was born?"
"Yes," Azar replied, lifting the Sword of Dusk, a relic capable of destroying both flesh and soul, including the immensely powerful pureblood vampires.
"Brother, what is this gift you have prepared? Show it to me now!" Kael inquired eagerly, anticipation brimming in his voice.
"Very well," Azar stepped forward, piercing Kael's heart with the blade.
The sword passed through Kael's back, blood trailing down its tip onto the white stone.
"Brother..." Kael's lips bled, his sapphire eyes widening, "Why... why does this hurt so much..."
"My dear brother, for your death, I have prepared for 150 years. For our cursed purebloods, this is the ultimate gift," Azar smiled, watching as the luster in his brother's eyes began to fade.
"But, I don't want to die! My apostles will be heartbroken, and so will our parents," Kael weakly said.
"There is no need to worry about that. They will no longer be heartbroken," Azar extended his left hand, drawing a line in the air. Vast fields of roses sprang forth from the white wasteland, their emerald leaves and pristine petals beautiful beyond description.
Yet, though lovely, each petal began to leak crimson blood, staining the white petals crimson, for beneath each rose lay a hidden corpse.
"There, are your parents, apostles, familiars, and followers," Azar pointed to the plain, where the red roses stretched to the horizon, the entire land dyed crimson.
"Brother, you killed them!? Why!? Why do this!??" Kael's eyes blazed with fury, his hand gripping the blade of the Sword of Dusk, its锋利的 edge cutting his palm.
"Because, dear brother, I do not merely wish to end your life; I wish to erase your existence entirely," Azar said resolutely.
"Why, brother, why do you treat me this way?" Kael's sapphire eyes shed a single blood-red tear as his soul began to shatter.
Azar silently drew the Sword of Dusk from its sheath.
"In the place of ultimate doom, a pureblood killed will cease to exist, soul and body alike, even their name will be wiped from existence," Azar said.
"From today on, I have no brother."
Bing, bing, bing!
The alarm clock's shrill sound shattered the room's silence, Chen Feng awoke from his dream, quickly silencing the alarm, and sinking back into slumber.
"Another of those dreams, really affecting my sleep quality," Chen Feng muttered, pulling the covers over his head to continue his rest, "Always dreaming of being stabbed, what a joke..."
Chen Feng, fifteen years old, a mere ordinary high school student, had lived independently since
