Goodbye Earth, Hello Alastor

In a small village near the demon realm, a thirty-year-old woman named Janice was in labor. Her face was etched with exhaustion and determination, beads of sweat glistening on her brow. Her once bright eyes were now clouded with pain, yet she clung to a fierce resolve. Her long, dark hair was damp and disheveled, framed her flushed face. Despite the discomfort, she gritted her teeth, drawing strength from within as she prepared to bring new life into the world.

"Come on, Janice, just a little more. It's almost here," encourages the midwife, a woman in her late fifties with a nurturing demeanor. Her kind eyes, framed by crow's feet, reflected years of experience and empathy. She wore a simple but practical dress, its edges slightly worn from years of service. Her hands, though calloused, moved with gentle precision, offering both comfort and guidance to Janice in her time of need.

"Aaaaaaah!" Janice screamed with her final effort, giving everything she had to bring her children into the world.

At this moment, across all of Alastor, the night sky was ablaze with a dazzling meteor shower. The heavens themselves seemed to welcome the newborns into the world, with vibrant streaks of color painting the sky as if celebrating the arrival of the destined child.

After a few moments, the midwife, seemingly unaware of the meteor shower that had appeared and vanished in an instant, held two newborns in her arms: a girl and a boy. The boy gazed at her silently, his face expressionless, while the girl cried so loudly that it felt as if she was crying for both of them.

"Doctor, the boy isn't crying. Could there be a problem?" Beatriz, the midwife, asked the village doctor, her voice tinged with concern as she glanced anxiously at the silent newborn.

The village doctor was a seasoned, middle-aged man with a calm and reassuring presence. His graying hair and weathered face bore the marks of years spent tending to the villagers. He wore a simple, practical outfit—a well-worn shirt and trousers—paired with a sturdy apron. His eyes, though tired, were kind and attentive, reflecting both his experience and his deep concern for his patients.

"That's unusual. Take the girl to rest; I'll examine the boy," said Alan, the doctor, his brow furrowing with concern.

He gently placed the boy on a soft, enchanted examination table. Alan extended his hands, manipulating the surrounding mana with practiced ease. He wove intricate patterns of energy in the air, creating a shimmering aura around the infant. As he concentrated, the mana coalesced into a delicate, glowing lattice that revealed the boy's internal condition.

Alan's fingers moved deftly, guiding the flow of mana to assess the baby's vital signs and magical balance. The shifting colors and pulses of light provided a detailed readout of the boy's health. With each adjustment of the mana flow, Alan's expression grew more focused, his concern evident as he carefully analyzed the results.

After a few moments, Alan carefully adjusted the flow of mana and examined the glowing lattice around the boy. To his relief, he noticed that there were no significant issues. The mana patterns showed normal vital signs and no immediate magical disturbances.

Alan let out a quiet sigh of relief, his concern easing as he confirmed that the boy appeared healthy. He looked up at Janice and said, "There's nothing wrong with the boy. He seems to be in good health. Sometimes, newborns just need a little time to adjust."

"Thank God, Alan. Thank God," said the exhausted Janice, her voice trembling with relief as she took deep breaths.

"You can rest now, Janice. I'll also take a look at the girl, and soon I'll bring the children for you to see," Alan said, trying to ease Janice's worries.

Alan exited through the door to examine the newborn girl and perform some tests. Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, the small child—who was, in fact, Daniel, transported from Earth to Alastor—stared in amazement at the unfolding scene. 'What the hell? Am I a freaking baby? How is this even possible? And that was magic?!' he thought, bewildered by the situation.

'Okay, calm down, Daniel, calm down. This is just a normal situation. Haven't I read plenty of novels where the protagonist is transported or reborn in another magical world? Maybe I'm just dreaming because I've read too many of those stories. Let me try to remember what I was doing before this.'

[Hello, kid. You're not dreaming. Relax; you were just born. You have plenty of time to adapt, so there's no need to rush.]

If Daniel could scream, he would let out the loudest, most panicked cry of his life. 'What the hell!? Where did that voice come from? And it's in English? Since I arrived here, I haven't understood a word anyone has said.'

[Did you forget about me so soon, kid? That makes me a bit sad.]

The voice spoke to him again, seemingly coming from nowhere in particular.

'Could you be my system? Have I truly reincarnated and you're my cheat?' Daniel thought, trying to communicate with the voice inside his head. 'System, what can you offer me? Maybe a shop to buy cheat items? That would be incredible!'

Daniel, having momentarily forgotten the possibility that this might still be a dream, felt a surge of excitement at the thought.

[What system brat? Are you mentally ill? I'm Valen Bloodriver, one of the strongest knights to roam in Alastor. I'm also The Prophet's loyal aide, the most mysterious and strong vampire king ever.]

'Right… so you're useless. What an incredible cheat I've gotten myself,' Daniel thought disdainfully.

[What a brat. In my days, kids used to be more respectful to their elders.]

'I'm not a brat, I'm 21 years old.'

[Right now, you aren't even a day old, and even if we include your time on Earth, I'm at least five thousand years old. To me, you'll always be a brat.]

'What?! That's a lot, but you mentioned that I forgot about you. I don't recall ever talking to a five-thousand-year-old man.'

[Did you forget about the book you read before coming here? Part of my soul was trapped in that book, waiting for the destined one that my liege, The Prophet King, foretold.]

'Oh, I'm right, I'm so sleepy right now… can't focus. I think I'll take a nap…'

While Daniel was enjoying a peaceful nap, Alan returned with Janice and her daughter. "Here's your baby, Janice. Just a moment; I'll get the boy."

Alan carefully lifted Daniel from the examination table and, with the utmost care, handed him to Janice. Holding both her children, her face lit up with a warm and joyful smile as she held them close.

"My babies, they are my hope, the legacy that remains of Garrick…" A small tear formed in Janice's eyes as she remembered her late husband, who had bravely died fighting in the war against the demons.

Alan, the doctor, observing the scene, couldn't help but sigh. "Garrick was an exceptional man. I'm truly sorry for your loss, Janice. So many lives have been cut short because of those damned demons."

"Thanks, Alan, that means a lot to me."

"So, have you decided on their names? I'll need to send them to the village chief to update the records."

"Yes, Elion and Valeria. I want their names to embody light and courage, just like my husband, who was a brave man and brought light into my world."

"I understand, Janice. I'm sure Garrick would be very happy with this moment," Alan said, offering a small smile as he looked at the twins. "I'm confident they will grow into brave warriors, just like their father."

Little did Alan know, even in his wildest dreams, that he was right. He could never have imagined that the boy would one day become the strongest warrior, driving the demons away and bringing hope to Alastor.

—

In the heart of the vampire realm, untouched by the influence of demons, stands the majestic city of Nocturnis. At its center rises the grand castle, known as Ebonhold Keep. This fortress is a symbol of the vampires' enduring strength and elegance.

Ebonhold Keep is an architectural marvel of dark stone, one of the hardest stones in Alastor, and intricate ironwork, its towering spires reaching toward the sky. The castle's walls are adorned with ornate, silvered runes that shimmer faintly in the moonlight. Massive, wrought-iron gates stand as guardians at the entrance, while the central courtyard is a lush garden of nocturnal blooms and eerie, glowing flora.

Inside, the great hall of Ebonhold Keep is lined with colossal columns, and the vaulted ceiling is adorned with shimmering chandeliers of crystal and enchanted fire. The air within is cool and carries the faint scent of night-blooming flowers.

On this fateful night, as the stars align and the world shifts, the vampire princess is born amidst the grandeur of this castle. Her arrival is marked by an ancient ritual and the soft glow of magical wards that protect and honor her lineage, heralding a new era for the vampire realm.

"Your Highness, the princess has been born. The situation has stabilized, and you may now enter to see your daughter," announced the elf midwife who attended the labor.

The birth of the vampire princess was a moment of both grace and intensity. The midwife, skilled in the ancient art of delivering royal offspring, had navigated the delicate process with practiced ease. As the newborn princess took her first breaths, the chamber was filled with an aura of magical serenity, reflecting the significance of the event for the realm. The queen, having endured the trials of labor with strength and dignity, could now rest while her husband prepared to meet their daughter.

"Ah, my daughter, after hundreds of years, I'm finally a father!" exclaimed the king, his dark red eyes gleaming with uncontainable joy.

In the bed, the Queen, still slightly fatigued from the arduous labor, addressed her king. "Roderic, my dear, I understand your joy, but may I see our daughter now? After all, I was the one who endured the hardship."

The queen, Liliana Nightshade, offered an enchanting smile to Roderic. Her long, silver hair cascaded around her like a shimmering veil, complementing her regal bearing. Her eyes, though tired, held a soft glow of warmth and affection as she looked towards her husband and their newborn daughter.

King Roderic Nightshade is a striking figure of formidable presence. Standing tall with a muscular frame, his physique speaks of centuries of battle and strength. His dark red hair, cascading in waves, frames a face marked by both authority and kindness. His dark red eyes, deep and intense, are windows to a soul that has weathered many storms but now shines with the light of paternal joy. His regal attire, adorned with intricate patterns and dark hues, complements his commanding yet approachable demeanor.

As Roderic approached the queen, he cradled the newborn princess with the utmost care, his strong arms supporting her delicate form. His eyes softened as he gently handed the baby to Liliana.

"Here she is, my love," Roderic said, his voice tender despite its usual commanding tone. "Our daughter, Liliana. I believe she takes after you in grace, but I trust she will inherit our strength."

He carefully placed the princess into Liliana's waiting arms, his gaze lingering on the queen's face as she took in the precious bundle. The sight of his daughter in her mother's embrace filled Roderic with a profound sense of fulfillment, a rare and cherished moment that softened his otherwise stern countenance.

"I'm sure she will, my dear," Liliana replied, her voice gentle and filled with warmth as she gazed lovingly at her newborn daughter. Her smile, tender and radiant, reflected the deep bond she felt with the tiny princess now nestled in her arms.

—

The Blackthorn family estate is an imposing manor nestled in the northern reaches of the vampire realm, near the edge of an ancient forest. The manor is surrounded by high, shadowed walls draped in ivy, with turrets that pierce the misty sky. The architecture is a blend of Gothic and dark elegance, featuring intricate stonework and large, arched windows that cast eerie patterns of light and shadow.

Inside, the labor of Dorian Blackthorn unfolds in a grand chamber designed for such noble events. The room is adorned with dark mahogany furnishings, rich tapestries, and a large fireplace that crackles with a soothing warmth. The air is heavy with the scent of burning incense and a faint trace of wildflowers, intended to bring comfort during the intense moments of labor.

As the time approached for Dorian's arrival, Lady Evelyn Blackthorn, a figure of grace and poise, lay on a luxurious bed draped in dark velvet. Despite the labor's intensity, her demeanor was calm, reflecting her noble upbringing. The midwife, a skilled and experienced practitioner, worked with precision and care, using both traditional techniques and magical enhancements to ease the process. Enchanted crystals glowed softly around the room, casting a gentle light and providing a calming aura.

The labor was a tense yet dignified affair, with family members and attendants quietly offering support. The midwife's hands moved with practiced skill, drawing upon her knowledge of both natural and magical methods to ensure the safety and comfort of mother and child. When the moment finally came, the room was filled with a sense of relief and anticipation.

As Dorian was born, he let out a strong, clear cry, signaling his arrival into the world. The midwife, with a proud smile, handed the newborn to Evelyn, who looked upon her son with tears of joy in her eyes. The child's first breaths were a sign of hope and continuation for the Blackthorn lineage, and his arrival was marked by a quiet, respectful celebration within the noble house.