Deep within the Vatican dungeons, a sound of utter, terrifying gloom echoed incessantly, emanating from eight figures chained to the walls, their hair matted and bodies riddled with scars. No, to be precise, they were vampires, and the scent of something familiar sent them into a frenzy of savage rage, two crimson lights glowing from the depths behind their tangled hair, a sight chilling to the bone.

"John Charred!" The voice was a screech torn from the depths of hell, every syllable steeped in profound grievance, their twin scarlet eyes locked onto the dungeon entrance.

"Thirty years, and still the same routine," John Austerley said as he appeared, his gaze sweeping over the eight Blood Dukes who once commanded everything in the British Isles.

Once, these eight were prominent figures in Britain and across the world, once lauded as the 'Blood Dukes,' though that legacy had been utterly forgotten in the struggles of thirty years past.

"John Charred!"

"Nn... My name is not Charred," John Austerley stated to the chained bloodsuckers. "The John Charred who ruined your lives has gone to hell, so shouldn't you all wake up?"

"Who are you?" The voice was excruciatingly hoarse. The speaker was the leader of the eight Dukes. His terrifying visage was concealed by his hair, but the sheer intensity of hatred in his eyes revealed an overwhelming desire to lunge forward, tear apart the man before him, and drain him dry.

"Me?" John Austerley gave a sinister, deeply unsettling smile. "I am a descendant of John Charred."

"It is true... Argh Argh!"

All eight vampires roared simultaneously—a desolate sound, yet filled with rancor and an aura of lethal intent. John Austerley shook his head. "You only know how to express your hatred with such wild arrogance... Does it serve any purpose? Instead of this, why not calm down and converse with me?"

"Argh Argh!"

John Austerley shook his head again, waving a dismissive hand. "I propose a deal. If you agree to submit to me, I will immediately set you free. How about it?"

John Austerley's proposition was blunt because he understood that any form of pretense would be useless. For those once known as the eight great Blood Dukes, nothing could outweigh the craving for freedom they currently endured.

"Hmph, no one in the John family is trustworthy. You expect us to believe you?"

"For thirty years, every moment I've lived, I've planned the demise of your John family."

"Die! Die!"

The voices surged and vibrated, tendrils of killing intent rippling outward. The eight Blood Dukes clearly wanted none of John Austerley's words. A palpable, imposing pressure radiated from their bodies.

"I didn't expect that after locking these fellows up for thirty years, their power hasn't retreated; it's actually increased quite a bit," John Austerley observed, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "I'll give you two more hours to consider. I will return later. If you submit, you will not only gain freedom but also honors far exceeding anything you previously held."

"Argh, argh, argh!" The eight Blood Dukes screamed incessantly, their cries seeming to pierce right through the walls.

Hearing this, John Austerley knew they were incapable of listening at that moment, so he didn't press the issue. He turned and walked toward the dungeon entrance.

"Remember to keep a close watch. Guard them well."

"Yes, Your Majesty, the King," two men dressed in immaculate black suits replied.

"En!" John Austerley acknowledged them and departed the dungeon.

Indeed, not long after he left, the two men who had just responded widened their eyes in sudden shock, their mouths frozen open as they collapsed to the floor. In their place, two other figures materialized.

"Master, they are just inside."

"Good, let's go in!"

The two men rushed toward the dungeon entrance, feeling the oppressive atmosphere grow thicker with every step they took.

"Hey, you think His Majesty, who hasn't visited this place in decades, came down here today for some reason?" one dark-suited guard asked, seated on a stool before a massive door.

His companion, hearing this, replied dismissively, "Why worry about it? It's none of our business anyway."

"Yeah, you're right..." Just as he finished speaking, the first guard's eyes snapped into focus. He let out a sharp exclamation: "Who's there?"

Schlick! In a flash of blinding speed accompanied by a streak of icy cold blades, the guard's life was ended. On the other side, the second guard was reaching for his sidearm, but as he looked up, he caught sight of an utterly guileless smile. His heart seized violently. Schlick! In an instant, the two men who had just been speaking became nothing more than cold corpses.

Gazing at the ancient, iron-plated door before them, the two newcomers exchanged a look, then kicked it open simultaneously. They descended the stairs and soon laid eyes upon the eight disheveled figures.

"Well now, good evening to you all?" The first greeting from the newcomers was delivered thus.

However, that single sentence caused all eight vampires to fix their stares upon the two figures standing before them. Observing their attire, skin, and eyes, it was clear they were not Englishmen. One of the vampires, emitting a strange, eerie blood-red glow, inquired, "Who are you people?"

"Hey, have you lot been cooped up so long your brains have rusted?" The speaker was a youth of about twenty-one, his seemingly carefree expression casting an inexplicable shadow of pressure over the eight Blood Dukes.

The youth surveyed the eight men, inwardly marveling at how the world-renowned eight Blood Dukes had fallen to such a state. Truly, times change. Seeing the ferocious, blood-red glare in their eyes, he smiled with profound strangeness. "From this day forward, I am your master."

This single sentence closed the scene within the dungeon, yet the events outside the Vatican continued to unfold without pause. Vehicles appeared in droves, crowds of people gathered, their weapons gleaming darkly, and among them were figures clad in noble attire, yet carrying massive swords at their waists. Undeniably, these were the forces Queen Merian had dispatched to eliminate John Austerley.

"Report, Colonel. That castle ahead is John Austerley's hideout," a middle-aged soldier said to his superior.

The Colonel, a young man in his mid-thirties, scanned the structure. "Seal this area immediately. Do not let the enemy escape under any circumstances."

"Yes, Colonel!" the soldier responded.

"John Austerley, let's see where you run today."

"Report!"

"Speak!" The young Colonel frowned after hearing the soldier's update, muttering, "That's a vampire castle? Trouble. Tonight's mission won't be wrapping up easily."

Meanwhile, inside the castle, John Austerley sat upon the throne in the great hall, asking Los, "What is the situation?"

"My King, our reconnaissance shows two Knight Legions and three detachments of the Royal Guard have completely surrounded us," Los reported.

"Damn it, are they moving to attack now?"

"Not yet, but we both know we won't hold out long once they do."

"It seems that damned Merian is absolutely set on killing me before she's satisfied."

"Your Majesty, it's not just her. The Royal Guard's deployment suggests that the noble families of the realm are also involved. And their actions clearly imply..."

Imply what? Any intelligent person, especially the party involved—John Austerley—knew the answer. Years ago, in his pursuit of the throne, he had courted many royal nobles. Now, with everything turning against him, if they didn't act, they couldn't possibly escape culpability. Therefore, without a second thought, it was clear those people had no desire to let John Austerley live another second.

"Bastards, that group of..." John Austerley was filled with furious indignation, about to say more, when suddenly...

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! This is bad, it's very bad!" Osver rushed in, shouting breathlessly.

"What is it?"

Osver gasped for air. "The dungeon... the dungeon..."

"The dungeon?" John Austerley had only just left the dungeon moments ago, but hearing Osver mention it, he frowned. "What about the dungeon?"

"Something has happened in the dungeon, Your Majesty, you must come see at once!"

"What?" John Austerley and Los exclaimed simultaneously, their eyes meeting. They seemed to instantly grasp each other's meaning and, without hesitation, sprinted toward the dungeon. In moments, they arrived at the entrance and, seeing the guards missing, charged inside without a second thought.

Outside the castle walls, the young Colonel drew his knight's sword, raised his hand high, and bellowed, "Attack!"