Far beyond the ruined city square, atop a jagged spire overlooking Havenmere's battered skyline, a cluster of dark figures watched the chaos unfold. The last embers of the Blood Moon's glow flickered out as the dust from Tsukasa's finishing blow settled.
A man in tattered black armor leaned against the stone, a crooked grin splitting his pale face. One of his sharp-nailed fingers traced lazy circles in the air as he spoke.
"Well now… that's a strange little power that outsider's got."
Beside him, a taller figure cloaked in deep violet, her face half-covered by a porcelain mask, scoffed. "You're not wrong. That wasn't ordinary magic… wasn't even the same as those cursed Riders the king warned us about."
Another figure — hulking, with horns curling from his brow and burning ember eyes — rumbled a laugh. "Heh. That Renar fool was too drunk on his own bloodlust. Thought the king's blessing made him untouchable."
The man in black armor let out a sharp whistle. "Guess turns out Upper Ten-tier power ain't enough if your brain's the size of a goblin's."
The masked woman turned, her eyes narrowing behind the mask. "We should report this. If that outsider can steal a Blood Moon's energy and twist it into his own, he's a complication."
"Or a toy," the horned one chuckled darkly.
The man waved a hand. "Either way, the king's gonna want to know his 'pet heroes' aren't cutting it. And when the Isles fall, I wanna be there to see that magenta bastard's head on a pike."
He looked down one last time as Tsukasa's companions gathered around him, then grinned wider.
"Soon."
And with that, the shadows swallowed them as quietly as they came, leaving the broken city to its uneasy silence.
The figures moved like phantoms through the mists of the high mountains, where no sunlight ever dared to pierce the eternal storm clouds. At the jagged summit of the Blackspire Peaks, an ancient citadel lay cradled in stone and shadow — a fortress of black iron and blood-soaked banners. This was Dreadhollow Keep, the seat of the vampire lord Draco, once an Upper Eight demon king and ruler of countless dark legions.
Within its walls, the air hung thick with the scent of old blood and cold stone. Flickering crimson torches lined the hall, illuminating the figures as they entered the grand audience chamber.
At the far end, seated upon a throne of bone and obsidian, was Draco.
He looked like a corpse animated by sheer malice — long silver hair draped over his shoulders, crimson eyes like dying coals set into a face of marble-pale flesh. Though retired from the demon courts, his power had not waned. It merely sat beneath the surface, like a storm held back by the thinnest of veils.
The man in black armor knelt before him, fist pressed to the cold floor.
"My lord Draco," he began, his voice respectful but tight with unease. "We bring word from Havenmere."
Draco's lips curled, his voice a deep, ancient thing that made the shadows flicker. "Speak. Did Renar cleanse the city as I ordered?"
The horned figure grunted. "He tried. Got himself butchered by an outsider."
Draco's eyes narrowed, the temperature of the room seeming to drop.
"A stranger…?"
The masked woman stepped forward, bowing her head. "A warrior clad in magenta. Wielding powers like no Human we've seen. He overpowered Renar — even turned the Blood Moon's blessing against him."
The mention of that made Draco's fingers twitch against his throne.
"A Human … no, something more." Draco mused aloud, his gaze distant for a moment. "This world keeps birthing anomalies."
He leaned forward, his voice low and cold.
"And you let this… magenta insect live?"
The armored man grimaced. "He's strong, my lord. The others — beastfolk, elves — they fight beside him. But this power… it's strange. Even I felt it from the mountains."
The horned one grunted. "He could be a threat to the king's plan."
Draco waved a hand dismissively. "The king can keep his schemes. I care only for the old ways. Blood, dominion, and death."
His gaze sharpened. "But if this outsider stands in our path, I'll see him broken."
The room seemed to darken at his words.
"Summon the others. The Forgotten Ones. We move soon. And this time, we hunt him properly."
The three subordinates bowed low.
"As you command, Lord Draco."
And as the ancient vampire lord leaned back into his throne, a cruel smile stretched across his face, fangs glinting in the gloom.
"Let's see what your kind bleeds like, magenta warrior."
The chamber was deathly silent as the three figures knelt before Lord Draco. The flickering crimson light made their shadows stretch long across the cold stone floor.
"Speak." Draco's voice was a low rumble, ancient and cold.
The armored vampire warrior, Varkos, lifted his head. His crimson eyes glinted beneath his helm.
"My lord… it was chaos. Renar underestimated the outsider. The fool believed the Blood Moon would grant him untouchable power. And for a time… it did. He slaughtered hundreds of civilians just to fuel his strength. The city streets ran red."
The masked woman, Selis, spoke next, her tone sharp and clear. "But the outsider… he held back at first. Letting Renar flaunt his power. Then he transformed — a form we'd never seen before. Fangs. Chains. Crimson armor. He called it… Kamen Rider Kiva."
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"A Rider… using vampire power?"
Varkos gave a tight nod. "Yes, my lord. And it wasn't mere mimicry. The aura around him was ancient… old blood magic, but laced with something… alien. Not of our world. He turned Renar's Blood Moon technique against him, used the crimson energy to fuel his final blow. A kick… like a stake through the heart. Renar's body turned to ash before the city's eyes."
The last figure, a hunched pale creature named Mouren, chuckled dryly. "And the fool was so sure of himself. 'I'm too powerful for you, insect,' he said. Until the magenta one broke him. We saw it, my lord. That power… it isn't natural. Even the demons wouldn't dare face it directly."
Selis added quietly, "And the magenta warrior wasn't alone. His companions — elves aided him in rescuing the surviving townsfolk. They moved with speed and precision. The outsider leads them like a seasoned commander, but without claiming the title. It's… strange."
Draco's gaze was dark, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
"So… this stranger stands against our king's will. Slaying my gifted pawn and shattering our influence in Havenmere."
He rose slowly from his throne, his towering form casting the chamber in deeper shadow.
"Good. It's been centuries since someone interesting bled on these mountains. Prepare the Forgotten Ones. I want his head. And the heads of those foolish enough to follow him."
The three bowed deeply.
"As you command, Lord Draco."
And as they departed, the ancient vampire lord's laughter echoed through the cold, lightless halls of Dreadhollow Keep.