Deep within the lower New World, a gothic castle towered over a vast and eerie cityscape. Its looming cathedrals loomed over the stormy skies as the crimson thunder rumbled in the background.

Once again, the True Bloods of the Clan were summoned by the Vampire Progenitor. All ten of them have been called for a meeting.

In the silent, muted halls of the gothic castle, the highest of vampires kneeled before their one and only master. They awaited his voice and commands, ready for anything.

Lounging on the iron throne was a black-armored man whose face was as pale as snow white. He was extremely handsome, his crimson eyes gleaming with unique sharpness.

The Vampire Progenitor gazed upon his children, his demeanor pervaded with indifference, before finally speaking to them.

"I believe all of you are already aware of why I have summoned you to my castle." The air was tense, each word that escaped his lips echoing throughout the gothic halls.

"Within a single day, two True Bloods have been confirmed to be missing. One has already died while the other's location is unknown."

"The Federation has invaded our lands, destroying several strongholds and fortifying a mere hundred kilometers from our northernmost city."

"I haven't heard such a humiliation since the Revolution those lambs brought upon the New World." The Vampire Progenitor closed his eyelids, the atmosphere freezing with him.

"Disappointment... It is what I feel. The Clan was supposed to dominate this realm of weaklings and mortals. Yet here we are, fed with the scraps of a species we consider cattle."

"While we could bide our time for the centuries that are about to come. That would be too easy for those who dared to defy us, the most superior species nature has ever created."

"The monkeys will fall, and our cattle will be regained. I want all of you to prepare. A month... That is all I shall give you."

"Those who have not raised an army by then will be extinguished by my very hands. Do not dare taste my wrath and destiny."

His rumbling voice reached its conclusion in melancholy and silence. The True Bloods gazed upon their angry master, their dead hearts pounding for the first time since the Revolution.

"I will be done, my lord." Duke December bowed towards his master while Duke November stood with a narrowed gaze. "Shall we mobilize our spies, master?"

The Vampire Progenitor pondered it for a couple of seconds before responding. "Awaken those dogs and have them disrupt any signs of a defense."

"We will crush that Federation alongside the so-called SIGIL."

Duke September watched in silence before inquiring about a crucial subject to everyone inside the gothic hall. "What shall be done with the White Devil, my lord?"

Simple words were enough to silence everything. The White Devil was the strongest opponent their species had ever faced. Not even the Lycan Progenitor could rival how much of a threat she was.

In simpler terms, she was their greatest nemesis.

As long as she was around, humanity would remain free from the vampire's dominance. It was the undeniable truth that crushed them.

"The White Devil will be handled when the time comes." Such was the only response the Vampire Progenitor could muster.

The power of humanity's strongest wasn't to be underestimated.

He recalled the final day of the Revolution when the two of them fought in the dark continent. In mere hours, almost a quarter of that continent was sunk into the sea.

The Vampire Progenitor couldn't see a world where he could defeat that white-haired aldy. The reason they even stopped fighting was that the two of them felt something watching on the sidelines.

It wasn't one, but many.

Their presence originated from other continents, signifying that it wasn't only the New World that had changed. For the sake of each other's species, the two stopped.

It was a status quo that was built from that very moment.

But that didn't mean such a thing was meant to last for eternity. Sooner or later, only one species shall dominate the New World.

The Vampire Progenitor needed to ensure that it was the vampires, his children, who would reign over the New World. It was a promise he cannot break.

Even if it meant dying in the hands of the White Devil.

Hearing the words of their master, the True Bloods merely nodded in understanding as the Vampire Progenitor gestured for them to depart from the gothic hall of his iron throne.

Duke November was the last of the True Bloods before the Iron Throne, as he reported to the Vampire Progenitor about the status of the missing True Blood.

"Sir, no signs of Marquis July have been discovered. She fought against the Third Paragon of the SIGIL, leaving behind a massive crater spanning over a hundred kilometers across."

"We believe her to be alive, alongside the Third Paragon. It appears that she has deserted from her post, Master."

When the Vampire Progenitor heard of the True Blood's report, a crushing weight enveloped the gothic hall. Duke November could feel his blood erupting, barely controlling himself from kneeling like a fool.

It would be something if a True Blood dared to desert from the Clan. But Marquis July wasn't any vampire. She was the only daughter of the Vampire Progenitor, the princess of the Clan.

Obviously, it remained a secret to everyone but the Dukes and the Vampire Progenitor. In the eyes of other vampires, she was merely a powerful True Blood.

At any rate, the oppression that enveloped the gothic hall calmed down as the Vampire Progenitor's cold crimson eyes gazed upon the Duke.

"I want you to find the two of them. Bring the Marquis back alongside this man, Armstrong. She shall know the price of angering me and betraying the Clan."

The Vampire Progenitor commanded, while Duke November nodded and bowed. "It shall be done, my lord. I will deploy thousands of our hounds to find traces of their existence."

"As long as they stand in the New World, they shall be uncovered by us. It is only a matter of time."

"I hope so, Duke November. My patience is wearing thin." The Vampire Progenitor's crimson eyes narrowed as the True Blood departed from the gothic halls.

An eerie silence permeated throughout the iron throne as the storms rumbled, crimson thunder flashing across the black skies. The progenitor of the Clan rested on his chair.

An iron throne bloodied by millennia of warfare, destruction, and blood. Since the arrival of that intelligent Aberrant, the New World has been unravelling.

It was troublesome for the Clan, especially when they had to bide their time to conquer the Federation within a century. Since then, their strategies have changed.

The warring era has begun.

Not too long later, the southern frontier would bathe in the blood of humanity, and the Clan would revel in their devastation.

Meanwhile...

Somewhere in the Pacific, there was a white beach where the waves of peace echoed alongside the warmth of the blue skies. Lying in the sand's embrace was a middle-aged man, the Third Paragon of SIGIL.

Armstrong opened his eyes, his eyelids fluttering from the blinding light of the sun. He could smell the ocean's salty scent and feel the waves touching his legs.

Beside him was a beautiful lady whose hair resembled the evergreen tint of an emerald. It shone brilliantly under the golden sun while her pale skin shimmered in a lively color.

"Took you long enough to wake up." Her supple crimson lips opened, a soft voice escaping from her alluring mouth.

She was staring at the empty heavens where the ezure stretched to eternity. The winds whistled from behind, her body weakened yet wholly relaxed.

"I didn't expect you to survive my punch..." When their imprinted domains clashed, she became the victor in the battle of refinement.

As a result, she was given the chance to punch him once. But against all odds, he managed to survive despite suffering serious injuries.

It was the first time someone and something actually took her punch without disintegrating into dust. Even the Vampire Progenitor wouldn't dare do so without preparations.

Armstrong was exhausted, but he noticed his injuries were gone. A complicated gaze shrouded his eyes as he remarked. "You saved me."

"It was not because I was merciful. I merely didn't want someone who could take my punch to die by drowning."

"That would be an unfortunate fate, don't you think?" She tilted her head as she lay beside him. "But the chaos of our battle attracted the attention of everyone."

"In the eyes of the Federation, the two of us died fighting to the death."

"But in the eyes of the Clan, I saved an enemy and deserted from my species."

Armstrong raised his eyebrows, unable to utter a single word other than. "Should I be grateful?" To which Marquis July shook her head and muttered. "I don't need thanks."

"I am not interested in such things."

"Instead, I'm intrigued by you."

She smirked at the middle-aged man, who remained dazed.