The Crimson Awakening
Eyes snapped shut, drowning in a torrent of strange knowledge pouring into his brain like a wave of searing ice. Ideas whirled out of his control, screaming louder than he could ever say.
System? What system? What is this…? Where's my mother? Where the hell am I?!
A name slipped from his lips—creased and parched, as if it tore its way out of death itself.
"Anna… my mother…"
The voice hardly rose above a whisper, a breathy gasp lost in the dense, oppressive quiet. He attempted to raise his arms, but they weighed as much as lead, pinned by the heavy, metallic fluid that encased him in the coffin. His fingers quivered, then froze.
"Where… is she…? If she passed with me, why isn't she? Where did she go?"
No voice replied. No heat caressed him. Only the metallic taste of iron in his mouth and the paralyzing silence that saturated the black room.
Then a swift jolt—cold and biting—lit up behind his eyes. Not pain, per se. Something mechanical. Otherworldly.
[Bloodwing System Integration Complete]
[Host Bound: Hybrid Vessel Confirmed]
[Status: Dormant]
What the hell?!" he breathed, his heart pounding as the voice echoed within his head like crunching metal against bone. "System? Bound?! What the f*ck is this?!"
[System unable to perform core functions until Activation Protocol is finished]
His jaw locked. A panic warped into annoyance as he attempted to decipher the mayhem. "Speak plainly, damn it! What's occurring to me?! Where is my mother?! Why isn't she here if she died with me?!"
The blood that surrounded him throbbed but gave him no answers. The coffin walls stayed firm, unshaken by his screams. Bile seethed in his belly, hot and uprising.
And then the voice came back, level but unnatural.
[Two conditions are necessary for activation:]
→ Draconic Soul or Heart… Detected.
→ Vampire Blood Ritual… Incomplete.
"What ritual? What does that even mean?" Alex snapped, his voice strained by urgency. "Give me what I'm doing! And give me where the devil my mother is!"
[In order to learn about your mother, you first need to awaken the System from hibernation. Then only will the host have access to memories and pertinent information.]
[To enable full system functionality, host should perform a Blood Ritual with a high-level vampire female.]
[Friendly Reminder: More powerful bloodline = More powerful system bonuses.]
His whole body froze.
His mind went blank for one beat, not knowing if he'd even heard it correctly.
"…What?" he breathed, the sound almost lost under the soft hum of blood pounding in his ears. "You want me to… what? Hunt up a vampire girl and—f*ck her?"
[Yes, Host.]
[First Mission: Get your fated First Empress—your soulmate. Finish the Blood Ritual. Activate the Bloodwing System.]
[Reminder: Power is Lust. Lust is Power. Dominance drives evolution. Select a high-compatibility partner.]
"You have got to be kidding me," Alex spat, blazing with anger. "My mother passed away. I was fcking* shot in the head. And now you're saying go find a wife?!"
There was silence.
The system did not reply.
But the silence that followed was cacophonous.
Worse than any shout.
His fists were clenched in the warm, thick liquid that was around him. Muscles strained and bulged. His chest burned, but he didn't care. The pressure in his body continued to build, something primal awakening from beneath the pain and disorientation.
Then—it broke.
A roar ripped from his throat. Bestial. Raw. Muffled by blood.
He drove both arms straight up with every ounce of strength he possessed. His fists crashed against the coffin lid above him.
Crack.
A hairline crack spread across the dark red stone.
Another did, again and again.
And then—
BOOM.
The coffin burst apart in a spout of blood and scalding steam. Blasts of jagged, rune-scoured stone shot into the air, and a torrent of heavy, metallic liquid spilled out, splattering over blackened earth.
Alex sucked in his breath.
Air filled his lungs with lightning in his chest. His body convulsed as he fell onto the chilly, hard ground, coughing with all his might, his skin wet with sparkling blood from top to bottom.
His sight whirled.
Overhead rose a gigantic red moon, low in the sky like the eye of a bleeding god. Its uncanny light filled all with crimson, casting red shadows across the valley's blackened floor. Mist moved through the ruins like old spirits, and jagged peaks encircled the land like fangs bared and grinding at the sky.
He shuddered.
The air was odd—cold but somehow reassuring. Then it struck him.
He had no clothes on.
"…Seriously?" he muttered, trembling. "Of course I'm f*cking naked."
That's when he heard it.
Footsteps.
Two pairs—slow, steady, purposeful.
He turned, instincts tightening his posture. His crimson gaze sharpened, fingers curling against the stone beneath him.
Out of the mist emerged two women clad in ornate, blood-red armor. Their long black hair trailed behind them like silk banners caught in the wind. Faces beautiful, sharp, and otherworldly—eyes glowing crimson beneath their visors.
No guns drawn. But their gaze fixed on him unblinking.
The first woman halted in mid-step. Her lips parted in shock, voice stuck between astonishment and awe.
"The Prince. he's awake."
The second guard went down to a knee in one fluid motion.
"Glory to the Empress. He lives."
The first came down at once, head bowed low.
"Welcome back, my Prince."
Alex didn't stir. Picking breath, soaked in blood, his heart banged in his ears. But he didn't cover himself.
He wasn't certain why.
Perhaps it was the confusion. Perhaps something deeper—something older—was rising in his veins, untroubled by shame.
"…What the devil is happening?" he demanded finally, his voice more steady than he was feeling. "Who are you?"
The first guard raised her eyes, voice respectful yet firm. "We are the Empress's personal guards, tasked with guarding your resting place. We were instructed to stay until… your return."
That word rang in his mind.
Return?
He shuddered through his chest. Vampire. Empress. Guards.
The fragments fell into place.
His eyes narrowed.
The name murmured through flashes of recall. That voice—the maid in his dreams—sometimes referred to his mother as "Her Majesty… the Supreme Empress."
His throat constricted.
That wasn't possible. Was it?
"My return?" he repeated, furrowed brows. "From where?"
The two women shared a look. One of them, who remained on her knees, spoke softly, "From your Eternal Sleep… my Prince."
Alex let out a slow breath and pressed a hand to his forehead, as if attempting to stabilize a tempest within his head.
"This is crazy."
One of the guards rose to her feet, the glint of her armor under the moonlight. She moved forward, not close enough, voice soft but firm.
"My Prince, I will speak with Her Majesty. She ordered us to let her know the instant you awoke."
"…Go on," he growled. What else might he possibly say?
She dug into a secret compartment on her belt and pulled out a small red thing—a crimson oval thing that pulsed softly in her hand the instant she touched it.
Alex blinked slowly. The memories inside him—those disjointed shreds of Prince Alex Bloodheart—didn't know anything about what this thing was.
He scowled. Vampire technology? A magical object? Something more bizarre?
But he kept quiet.
He just stood there—naked, bloody, and confused—as the guard bent forward, speaking in awed whispers to the softly shining stone.
"Your Majesty… the Crown Prince has awakened from her eternal slumber."
But before the words even had time to leave his mouth, something shifted.
A quiet hush fell over the valley. The kind that precedes a storm—but this wasn't wind or rain. It was presence. Heft.
Alex subconsciously stepped back as the air congealed around him. There was a weird pressure that rolled out like unseen waves covering the earth, indistinct but unmistakable. The earth under his feet trembled faintly, as if the earth itself sensed what was coming.
Above the old coffin, the sky glimmered in an unnatural way—and then, as if reality itself were coming undone, a drop of blood coalesced in the air. Not falling, not dripping—but hanging suspended in midair, dangling like melted glass.
It pulsed.
It curled.
It formed.
Tendrils of red twirled and curled into a woman shape—graceful, statuesque, and unearthly. Her hair cascaded like a mountain waterfall of silk. Her shape was regal, near-dignified, as if carved from blood and power itself.
And then. she came down.
Naked feet landed on the icy stone with a stillness that thundered louder than the sound of it. The blood around her melted away to nothing, disappearing like sun-drenched morning mist.
Alex gazed, his breath taken entirely.
She did not appear human. She did not appear like anything he'd ever laid eyes on.
Her hair, an otherworldly color of pale pink, glowed in the blood moonlight like spun twilight. It fell loose down her back in shining waves. Her eyes—deep red, blazing like two burnt-out galaxies—settled on him with such ferocity he felt rooted to the ground.
And in that unflinching instant, her lips parted just so… as though she couldn't quite accept what she was seeing.
".My son."
Her voice shook—soft, yet timeless. It had the quality of velvet stretched over a tempest, gentle yet thunderous in his very marrow. Every word enveloped him, burning and annihilating, like a memory revived.
She took a step forward, hesitant at first, her quivering fingertips as if her body no longer trusted touch. And then—she moved.
Within the space of one heartbeat, she bridged the distance and had him in her arms, holding his naked, bloodied body against her chest without reserve.
Alex didn't stir.
He couldn't.
Her smell—roses blooming, crackling firelight, something holy and painful—shrouded him like a memory his soul had been waiting to recall.
"…It's really you," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of centuries. "My son… my son… you've returned to me."