Part Two

Oliver's muffled screams filled the dimly lit basement, echoing off the stone walls. The three men circled him like predators savoring their prey. Tied to a chair, Oliver's face was already swollen from relentless blows. Blood dripped from a gash above his brow, pooling at his feet.

One by one, they took turns pummeling him, each strike fueled by sadistic delight. Minutes stretched into an eternity as their assault continued, leaving Oliver barely conscious. For the final blow, the leader of the group towering figure with a scar across his cheek lifted a heavy bat. With one brutal swing, he shattered Oliver's nose. The impact was deafening, and Oliver slumped forward, motionless.

Back at the Castle

A servant, cloaked in black, approached silently. He collected the blood flowing from an old barrel into a crystal goblet, careful not to spill a single drop. The servant placed the goblet on an ornate silver tray and carried it through the sprawling halls of a castle.

This was no ordinary castle. Its Gothic spires loomed ominously over the mist-shrouded hills of Transylvania. Recently reclaimed by its ancient rulers, it was once again home to horrors that defied human imagination: the undead, blood-sucking fiends, and creatures from humanity's darkest nightmares. Villagers nearby had either fled or fallen prey to the monsters now ruling the land.

The servant entered the grand hall, now transformed into a sinister courtroom. At its center sat Count Dracula, resplendent in a black cloak embroidered with crimson thread. His

pale skin seemed almost luminous under the flickering light of the chandeliers. Beside him stood two beings disguised as humans.

One was a towering, grizzled man with an eyepatch covering his left eye- Cyclops, the mythical one-eyed giant. The other was an enchanting woman with dark eyes and golden hair. Her beauty was as beguiling as it was deadly; this was Baba Yaga, the

inInfamoushild-devouring witch.

Dracula raised his goblet in a toast.

"Rest assured, my friends, soon the world will tremble beneath our rule. This time, with your support, no hunter, no guardian, no council will stand in our way."

Cyclops and Baba Yaga cheered, their sinister laughter filling the room. The servant approached and bowed, offering the goblet. Dracula took it with a flourish, sipping the blood as if it were the finest wine.

But Cyclops's single eye narrowed, his gaze fixed on Dracula's hand.

"Where is your father's ring?" he asked.

The room fell silent. Dracula lowered the goblet, his red eyes flashing with barely restrained fury.

"I don't need a ring to conquer this world," he replied,

his voice cold and deliberate.

Cyclops smirked.

"The armies you wish to command obey only the ring. Without it, you have no power over them."

Dracula's grip on the goblet tightened. The air grew thick with tension as the two locked eyes, neither willing to back down. Finally, Baba Yaga intervened, her voice silky yet firm.

"I'm sure our lord has the ring. He simply hasn't revealed it yet. Right, my lord?"

Dracula hesitated but nodded.

"Yes, of Course. The ring is mine."

Cyclops chuckled mockingly.

"Very well. With your permission, Dark Lord, I shall take my leave."

His tone dripped with sarcasm as he exited, not bothering to wait for a response.

Dracula turned to the window, his fists clenched. The full moon bathed the sea below in silver light, the waves

shimmering like liquid diamonds. Baba Yaga joined him, her presence a quiet

reassurance.

"What troubles you, my lord?" she asked softly.



"When my father died,"

Dracula began, his voice heavy with bitterness,

"he entrusted the ring to my brother, deeming him the rightful ruler. But my brother betrayed us. He fell for a filthy human, defied our kind, and turned against us all. And what did she do in return? She stabbed him in the back and stole his corpse, along with the ring. His treachery destroyed him and robbed me of my birthright."

He lifted the goblet again but spat its contents out in disgust.

"Ugh! It's cold." With a swift motion, he hurled the

goblet out of the window. Its crimson contents splattered onto the rocks below.

Back at Oliver's house, Oliver groaned, his consciousness returning in

agonizing waves. He struggled against his bonds, but they held fast. Blood dripped from his mutilated face onto the floor. Across the room, the three masked men rifled through his belongings, looting whatever they could carry.

One of them noticed Oliver's wedding ring.

"I'll take that," he muttered, kneeling beside him.

The ring wouldn't budge. Frustrated, the man pulled out a jagged dagger with a blackened blade and pressed it against Oliver's finger. In one swift motion, he severed the digit.

"AHHHHHHH!" Oliver's scream tore

through the night like a thunderclap. The house seemed to tremble in

response, its walls groaning and lights. Flickering. Outside, bats erupted into the sky, their cries piercing the wind. A fierce gale swept through the town, rattling windows and shaking trees.

In the castle, Dracula froze. A wild, electric sensation Coursed through his veins. He stared out at the sea, his crimson eyes wide with recognition. Slowly, a wicked smile spread across his face.

"Welcome back, brother," he whispered.

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