My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

"ATCHINN!" Dante sneezed loudly, causing part of the palace to tremble.

"Come on, Dante, stop sneezing! You have to decide on a name!" Sara exclaimed excitedly, eager to have a name for this place, this faction, this kingdom!

"I've told you, I'm terrible with names!" Dante growled back.

"That's not true! You gave me my name!" Eldrax shouted, making everything tremble as well.

'If she only knew I just combined the Spanish 'El' with 'Drax,' which sounds like dragon...'

"Focus!" Voralith shouted, slamming his hands on the table.

Dante rubbed his nose, still feeling the remnants of the sneeze that had almost demolished part of the palace. "Focus, focus... I know," he murmured, trying to ignore Sara's impatient stare and Eldrax's enthusiasm.

"But why is this so important right now?" he grumbled, crossing his arms. "We have much more pressing issues than coming up with names…"

"This is important!" Sara retorted, stomping her foot on the floor with a determined expression. "This place... this kingdom needs an identity, Dante. We need to be more than a nameless force wandering around. Something that inspires people!"

Dante sighed, glancing at Eldrax, who was beaming with pride over a name Dante had barely put effort into creating. 'If only it were that easy for everything else...' he thought.

Voralith, always the voice of reason and pragmatism, stood up and leaned forward, resting his hands on the table to meet Dante's serious gaze. "Sara is right, Dante. A name may not seem like a big deal to you, but for those who follow us, it will be a symbol of everything we fight for. It will be a beacon. We need something strong, something that resonates with who we are and what we want to build."

Dante closed his eyes for a second, trying to ignore the buzzing in his head. The weight of power, of responsibility, all resting on his shoulders, and now they wanted him to name it all? He huffed, but he knew he had no choice.

"Okay, okay... a name..." he murmured, looking up at the ceiling as his thoughts wandered. "Something imposing... something that does justice to what we're trying to accomplish here…"

"Something that speaks to our power but also our unity!" Sara interjected, her eyes shining. "Something that people feel is grand but welcoming... strong yet just!"

Dante opened his eyes, and his thoughts began to take shape. He looked at Sara, then at Eldrax and Voralith. They were more than followers or allies. They were his family, his battle companions, the ones he trusted.

"How about…" he began, hesitating for a moment. "Something like... Red Fortress?" The room fell silent for an instant. Sara tilted her head, pondering.

'What a crap name, fuck it,' Dante muttered to himself. 'I'm not good at this stuff!'

"Red Fortress... hmmm... it's good, but..." Sara started, wrinkling her nose slightly. "It's not... big enough, you know? It's strong, but we want to be more than just a fortress.

We want to be a symbol of change, of absolute power."

Voralith crossed his arms and shook his head. "Perhaps 'Fortress' is too limiting. We're building a kingdom, a faction, not just a base. We need something more expansive."

Dante rubbed his forehead, feeling the weight of the decision growing again. He was good at many things — fighting, commanding, destroying — but coming up with names? This was quickly becoming his new nemesis.

"Okay, then. Something bigger than a fortress... something that represents everything we are." He looked at Sara, who still had her arms crossed, waiting. Eldrax was staring at him, as if expecting him to create a masterpiece.

Finally, he exhaled. "How about... Albion?" He said the words slowly, as if testing the sound of them.

Eldrax remained silent for a moment before his eyes sparkled with excitement. "Yes! The Kingdom of Albion sounds... epic! It's strong, it's powerful... it resonates with our strength, our essence!"

Sara beamed, her enthusiasm quickly returning. "It's perfect, Dante! It represents our unity, our power... and our future!"

Voralith nodded, finally letting out a sigh of approval. "It is decided then. Albion will be the name of our kingdom and our faction."

Dante smirked slightly, still doubting his naming abilities, but at least it seemed like he had gotten it right this time. "Alright, Albion... sounds good."

'If they only knew I took this from some game I played when I was Aisha Walker back on Earth... what would they think?' Dante thought, almost letting out a controlled laugh, but he kept himself composed.

Giving a name was the first step, but making it mean something... that would be the real battle.

"So now that we have a name," Dante said, reverting back to his serious demeanor. "Let's ensure that the Empire of Albion is more than just a grand name. Let's make sure it's the most powerful kingdom in this world."

Eldrax roared in approval, and Sara jumped with joy, her eyes shining with determination. Voralith smiled in a restrained manner, but there was a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

...

It wasn't just Dante who was preparing.

In the heart of Hell, where flames danced and shadows cloaked every gap, intertwining like serpents, rose the Negative World Tree, still recovering from the wounds Dante had inflicted upon it.

Its roots spread throughout the abyss, connecting to every corner of the demonic domain, while its branches stretched like claws, absorbing the essence of suffering and desolation to heal itself. Yet, at this moment, it was proving futile; it was only a matter of time before it would have to destroy and completely rebuild itself after the impact of the spell Dante had cast.

"How can I free myself from this prison?" the Qliphoth murmured to itself, its whisper echoing through the depths of Hell. "With each generation of demons I create, I feel a bit more of the strength that restrains me, but still, my freedom remains a distant dream."

The flames around it crackled in response, as if the very earth were attentive to the Tree's anguish.

It felt the burning desire to break the chains that bound it to this plane of existence. With every little demon that sprouted from its roots, it experienced a fraction of the freedom that was denied to it. The creation of new beings, all fed by chaos and destruction, seemed to be the only viable path to accumulate the power needed.

"Having to rely on demons... this is unfortunate," the Tree thought, its musings stirring the darkness around it. "If I can create enough of them, if they can conquer and spread chaos to increase negative energy, perhaps one day they could break the shackles that bind me, and I could fully recover."

With a subtle movement, the Tree's branches began to vibrate. Intertwined, the limbs separated, and at their tips, small fruits began to form—each a demonic seed, destined to give rise to a new army. These demons, a blend of ferocity and cunning, would be born with the sole mission of spreading despair and destruction among the realms of the living.

"Come forth, my offspring," the Tree called with a power that reverberated like thunder in the abyss. "The more souls fall into the flames of despair, the stronger I will become."

The first fruit fell with a soft plop, touching the ground, opening, and releasing a grotesque-looking demon. With scaly skin and twisted horns, it rose in its new form, ready to receive the orders of its creator.

"I am Noktar, the Bearer of Shadows," the demon roared, a cruel smile forming on his face. "What do you wish for me to do, Great Mother?"

"Go to the world above," commanded the Tree, its roots writhing with anticipation. "Spread panic and destruction. Draw more souls into our domain. Their essence will strengthen my presence, and with that, I will draw closer to freedom."

With a nod, Noktar vanished in a cloud of black smoke, leaving the Tree alone in its thoughts. It was not content merely with creating new demons; its mind was teeming with more ambitious plans. It wanted each of them to become a herald of its desire for freedom, each an extension of its will.

"An army is not enough," the Tree mused. "I need a leader... a chosen one who can unite the demons under my banner and understands the depth of the pain I endure every day in this dark place. That leader will be the key to my liberation!"

With this idea taking root, the Tree began to channel its energy, forming a new seed. This one was different; it was denser, more powerful. When it opened, a stronger and more cunning demon emerged. He appeared as a man, but his skin was a deep, dark hue, with eyes that glowed like embers in the darkness.

"I am Zarthas, the Whisperer of Shadows," he said in a smooth, hypnotic voice. "What is my mission, Great Mother?"

"You will be my herald," the Tree declared, feeling a wave of power surge through its roots. "Go into the world of the living and seek out those who are dissatisfied, those who desire power. Show them the strength of Hell and offer them a place in my army. Together, you will form a powerful legion that will not only bring chaos but will also be the catalyst for my liberation."

Zarthas smiled, a grin that could send chills down anyone's spine. "Consider it done, Great Mother. I will bring not only souls but an alliance that will make your strength grow beyond any limits!"

The Negative World Tree watched as Zarthas departed, its heart pulsing with hope and determination. The plan was in motion; the seeds of Hell were being cast toward the world of the living. The army would grow, and the Tree would become stronger.

"Are you betraying me?" The Tree heard a clear voice, the bearer of light... the so-called star of tomorrow... the fallen Angel now Demon, Lucifer.