The Vampire Count Returned to the Apocalypse Game

The words had remained suspended in the air. With a mortal edge, that covered ominously the city.

The reactions of the diverse citizens who observed in conjunction the emergency conference were unknown, but foreseeable.

Incredulity, anger or confusion.

The primigenial emotions that constituted a tribe that had discovered a mortal danger.

The cemetery of the individuality. After all, a mortal danger of that class was inevitable; and all should fight elbow to elbow.

A principle that was learned with the stone or the steel in the hands. As natural as running and jumping.

Gabriel observed attentively each change in the tone and in the discourse. It was of vital importance. This warlike incursion could be directed at a very unknown enemy.

Because, what were the creatures of the video game really?

They had been dissected live and investigated. The results only must be awaited.

But even that generated certain uncertainty that robbed the sleep of more than one scientist.

The most common response would be to trust in a God, in whom could rest each gram of concern.

But he had never been characterized for being a believer.

"This is shit, a very big shit." He said among vulgar curses. He managed to imagine the destruction of those monsters. "What is even the Twilight of the Gods next to this?"

An even more eerie idea arose in his mind, bouncing maliciously like a persistent echo.

Could it be in some form linked to the game? Not of the obvious form. His intelligence quotient was not absurdly low. But a more complex correlation.

The massive attack had not occurred randomly. It could have been on any day of the previous ones. But finally it occurred after announcing the last sudden changes inside the game.

But every network was born to feed something specific. And that was eerie. If the game really acted consciously, what the hell did that mean?

He was not a genius of the abstract thought. He did not have a clear and concise response. But he recognized its strangeness.

He decided to avoid it, still invaded by the confusion, fixing himself on the reactions that the absurd warning had caused.

"War."

It had converted itself into one of the most popular headlines in the last minutes.

What did the presenter refer to with his ominous warning?

That was the principal unknown.

Innumerable drafters of fleeting impact tried to join the wave of popularity, betting on the rapidity with which they published their articles. But he avoided like a champion each propagandistic garbage.

His interest lay in the universal opinion.

"He is crazy."

"It is a joke, right?"

"Things you must do before dying in the war."

The random comments were not much better. Principally they came from shocked or desensitized citizens. With the majority ignoring with tact the tragedy of the West Sector.

It was unthinkable and ironic.

Directly he disconnected and closed the eyes over his bed.

The pain in his temple had only increased minute by minute. No one could plan or think rationally in that state.

He must sleep. In reality, he needed to sleep.

He yawned impatiently.

The sleep was heavy, almost demolishing. It knocked him on the bed.

Only upon enjoying some good hours of sleep could he think.

He could...

His eye opened with the red threads standing out in his pupil, like rebellious and tortured worms.

Finally he surrendered.

He slept.

***

He was attracted until a deep sleep. The emptiness of the abyss was infinite, a dark space that did not permit the entrance of the light.

In the interior of the sleep a spark of consciousness battled for the control, but was rapidly extinguished. It was uncontrollable.

In the distance, hidden by the shadows, a figure began to arise. Tall, of slender complexion and tanned by the adversities. It was the avatar that he utilized inside The Heaven Above All.

His eyes were mysterious.

Dark as the bottom of the ocean, they did not transmit any type of information. The pits of the sea.

He pronounced words in an unknown language, until he finally understood:

"The chosen must awaken. Claim their inheritances and carry the steel of the weapons in their hands, until the fulgor of the battle awakens in their spirits." Taking a few minutes of contemplation, he continued: "The personal destiny of each one must be fulfilled. Survive or die. It is the iron law."

He began to blur. But even so, in that state, his silver skin shone as if he were under the very moon.

He transmitted a heroic trail and flavor of the most refined aristocracy.

"Apotheosis, immortal, unique."

Were his murmurs before finally dissipating.

The sleep seemed about to end, but the roulette of the fortune gave an unexpected turn. He felt how his bones froze, plunged in the coldest waters of the arctic.

Some eyes lacking emotion fixed themselves on his existence, that resembled an erratic candle.

A horrible and inexplicable creature, that only its observation would cause that the heavens cried blood, but that had been the sufficient time dead; as for the eons to be a short period of time.

Its observation lasted less than a second, but his destiny was revealed like an open book before its scrutiny.

Only an interference equally ancient and chaotic managed to stop it, ending with the mysterious space of dreams immediately.

The dark abyss cracked like spider silk.

***

He had no forces. He had no energies.

Gabriel remained on his bed, breathing deeply. His fingers moved every few seconds.

The contemplation shone under his apparent fatigue.

"There are no more doubts. Now only remains... to decide."

His memories of the strange dream were as clear as a mirror. Each detail that he had been able to capture with his consciousness fragmented between the struggle and the confusion, he remembered vividly.

It could not be due to an unfortunate chance.

Because he had already experienced similar experiences before.

Those mysterious entities that roamed the game, like hungry wolves, were not capable of accessing a tangible space.

That was the most terrifying...

What were they really?

Needing to employ methods that influenced in mysterious planes, as they did with the dreams.

"So... That is what it is all about." He murmured with complicated eyes. His thoughts collided constantly, forming a half conclusion.

His physical appearance had been molded little by little in resemblance of his identity inside the video game.

They had made him adopt the mocking coldness of the jester.

Each step was directed to influence a paved path. Until the two identities were illusions, converting themselves into a combination of both.

Appearance, behavior, powers...

The last resistance before, apparently, the collision of two extraordinarily different worlds.

"What savior can exist?"

Was his uncertainty evoking echoes of an instinct rooted in the humanity.

Saviors.

The epochs, without differentiating societies, ended up recurring to an extraordinary figure.

The balm to the insecurities and fears.

But already had died hundreds of thousands.

There existed no saviors in his reality.