The New World

Chapter 3: The New World

The moment Draven stepped out of the cave, the world that greeted him was not the one he had left behind. The air was still fresh, but there was a strange crispness to it—a feeling of something more refined, less primal than the forests and cities he once knew. The sky was a brilliant blue, with high, thin clouds drifting lazily. The sun hung in the sky, still the same, yet the landscape around him felt different, unnerving in its unfamiliarity.

Valor and Volta walked cautiously at his side, both of them wary of the unknown world around them. The earth beneath their feet seemed solid, yet there was an undercurrent of tension in the air. The trees, tall and lush, appeared healthier than anything Draven had seen before—planted with purpose, their leaves vibrantly green. The sounds of wildlife, distant chatter, and mechanical hums filled the air, a hum that Draven had never heard before.

Draven looked around, his piercing red eyes scanning the landscape with suspicion. This was not the land he once ruled. The villages, the towns, the kingdoms—none of them were like the ones he remembered. There were no massive stone castles or proud vampire lords. Instead, there were roads that stretched long and wide, lined with strange horseless carriages—vehicles—moving faster than anything that had existed in his time. The very roads themselves were wide, paved with some kind of dark material, and people moved along them with such speed and efficiency that it felt unnatural to Draven.

"This place…" Draven murmured, a hint of confusion in his voice. "It feels strange almost… alien."

Volta, ever the pragmatist, tilted her head and looked at him. "You mean it's nothing like you remember?"

Draven gave her a sidelong glance, his sharp gaze holding a glimmer of something akin to unease. "This is not the world I knew. It has changed beyond recognition." His eyes narrowed, focusing on a group of people passing by. They were unlike any humans he'd encountered in the past. Dressed in strange fabrics that sparkled under the sun, they moved in groups, holding strange glowing devices that emitted constant noise. Some were looking up at the sky, while others were focused on the tiny glowing rectangles in their hands.

"What are they holding?" Draven asked, his voice carrying an edge of frustration.

Volta looked at the devices curiously. "Those are phones. People use them to communicate, take pictures, and look things up. It's… it's how we all stay connected now."

Draven's gaze hardened. "Connected? With such… trivial things?" He shook his head in disbelief. "In my time, we had soldiers to speak for us and the power of the dark arts to connect us across the miles. This world is… soft. It's not the place I once ruled."

Valor, who had been observing the world around him in fascination, suddenly frowned. "And yet, it's so vibrant. People are everywhere. They're alive… thriving. It doesn't look like the world is broken at all."

Draven's lips curled into a small, contemplative smile. "It's a lie. A façade. There's nothing truly thriving here. This world is built on distractions, on comforts, on illusions. It is a house of cards waiting to collapse. But it is still… unfamiliar. And that troubles me."

They continued walking, heading toward a nearby town. As they approached, the sounds grew louder—the hum of mechanical vehicles, the clatter of people talking, and the distant beat of music. The buildings in the distance were tall and sleek, made of strange materials that gleamed in the sunlight. There were no stone walls, no gates that could withstand an army. The world had evolved without him, and Draven could feel the unfamiliarity in his bones.

As they entered the town, the people around them seemed oblivious to their presence. It was a bustling place, filled with laughter, chatter, and the hiss of something strange—a machine that offered food in exchange for small coins. People stood in line, hands busy with small glowing devices, talking in rapid-fire language that Draven didn't understand.

Draven's steps faltered, and his eyes scanned the crowd. It was clear that these people had no idea who he was. None of them bowed. None of them feared him. In fact, no one seemed to notice him at all. They brushed past him as if he were invisible, their minds focused elsewhere.

"How can they not see me?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.

"Maybe because they don't know who you are," Valor said, his voice uncertain.

Draven scoffed. "They should. They should all know who I am. The King of Vampires, the ruler of darkness. And yet, none of them even acknowledge my presence." His voice dropped to a low growl. "I am… a relic. Forgotten. But I will remind them of my power."

Before Valor or Volta could respond, they heard a strange sound, a low rumble from the distance. It wasn't a storm—no, it was something much worse. The ground beneath them trembled, and the air grew thick with tension. The people in the town froze, their eyes scanning the horizon in alarm.

And then, they saw them.

A group of vampires, emerging from the alleyways and shadows, their eyes glowing faintly in the dimming light. They moved quickly, with a predatory grace, their fangs gleaming as they stalked forward, their senses locked on their prey.

But these vampires, unlike those Draven once commanded, seemed confused. Their eyes flickered between him and the others. They hissed, their bodies tense.

"Who are you?" one of them snarled, eyes narrowing. "You don't look like one of us."

Draven's eyes glowed with a red intensity, but he remained silent for a long moment, sizing them up.

"I am Draven Noctis, King of Vampires," he finally said, his voice heavy with power. "And you… are beneath me."

The vampires recoiled, clearly shocked by his claim. They whispered amongst themselves in a language Draven barely recognized, but one thing was clear: they didn't know who he was. To them, Draven Noctis was nothing more than a myth, a legend. A forgotten name lost to time.

"King of Vampires?" one of them sneered. "You're no king. Just a fool. This world has changed. You're nothing here."

The leader of the group, a tall vampire with a scar running across his face, advanced. "We have no place for relics," he hissed, "especially not ones that have no power over us."

Draven's gaze turned cold, calculating. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "You are making a grave mistake."

With a wave of his hand, the air seemed to vibrate with energy, and the vampires were thrown back, their bodies crashing into the buildings behind them. Draven stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

"You know nothing of power," Draven said, his tone low and filled with menace. "I will show you what it means to face the true King."

The remaining vampires, their confidence shattered, hesitated. But they were not cowards. They lunged forward, their fangs bared. The clash was swift and violent. In mere moments, the vampires were on the ground, their strength no match for Draven's wrath.

When the last of the vampires fell, Draven turned back to Valor and Volta, his eyes cold and impassive.

"This world may have changed," he said, his voice steady. "But it is still mine to rule. I will take what is rightfully mine… and I will remind them all who I am."