Deep within the forest near the city of Warbeast, there was a mansion, or so some say. This has been a rumour, created by the people who travelled to the city. They say, that they hear antagonizing screams come from within the forest.
As they continued to search for the source of the mansion, they say that they saw a mansion. It looked fairly new. They say it was between 15,000 and 20,000 square feet. The travellers could hear screams. It was hard to tell what the scream was of. Fear, pain, sadness. It didn't seem, to them, be any of them. So, they decided to call that scream, the "Ghastly Scream."
There was another rumour which circulated the city of Warbeasts. Again, the source was from travellers, but this also came from some Warbeasts hunting for prey. A woman–near the location of the so-called mansion–would be walking around and mutter a word repeatedly, over and over.
"Help..."
Was the word that she was muttering. The woman was described to be tall, around 180cm, and she dressed like a maid. Her hair was black and so were her eyes–they looked practically lifeless. But there was one other distinct feature on her. An ugly scar, from the bottom of her neck to the middle left side of her chin. If people were to walk toward the woman, she would instantly disappear. This rumour was monikered, "Cries of Disinterest."
The people who heard of these rumours would instantly connect the two. The screams and the woman calling for help. Were they two rumours connected? Or the same? Even experts couldn't figure that one out.
Then, one evening, a hunter, a Warbeast, was returning from his daily catch. He did fairly well, capturing a boar and three rabbits. By chance, he came across something. Something horrible. Something so horrible that he dropped his prey and retreated instantly.
Dead bodies. A whole pile. A couple were already being eaten by flies or maggots. They didn't look like they had been eaten or attacked, but every single one has an injury in common. Two holes in the neck. Everyone knew what caused it. Anyone would. Even those from another world. It was done by a vampire.
Vampire–a creature which feasts upon any being's blood to sate his, or, her own thirst. They are only known to come out at night due to their inability to travel through the day. There aren't many in the world. There are five true blood vampires, and the others are half-blood. Only true blood vampires can turn other beings into vampires.
The five progenitors are like Chroma Kings. Incomprehensible when it comes to levels and skills. Powerful beings. Unlike the Chroma Kings, the five progenitors don't use their first names. They are called:
First Progenitor, Gaius
Second Progenitor, Stella
Third Progenitor, Dracula
Fourth Progenitor, Caedis
Fifth Progenitor, Vestia
Though all of those are either alias or surnames. The rumours ended with that witness of the piled bodies.
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'Mistress Avera, please do not work yourself too hard.'
Inside the mansion and in the living room, a maid was overseeing someone she called her mistress. The maid had black hair and black, lifeless, eyes. The most eye-catching feature was her ugly scar, stretching from the bottom of her neck to her left cheek. She was the maid described in the rumours of Cries of Disinterest.
She spoke to a little girl, who was sitting leather couch. The girl sat down, with one arm extending across the top of the couch and the other holding a cup of red wine. Her hair was blonde and her eyes were as sharp as a cat's–they were coloured a blood-red. She wore a black dress with a single line of red frills, above her chest. For a child, her chest was slightly large, but that would be because this girl wasn't what she seemed.
The girl shook her cup of wine, looking at it intently.
'Saxon.'
'Yes, Mistress?'
She turned her face to her maid.
'Don't you ever regret having to serve such a childish master? Do you ever regret being a half-blood vampire?'
Saxon, the maid, wasn't expecting such questions. No matter if she was expecting it or not, her facial expression still didn't change; her eyes simply widened slightly.
'Are you saying my work is insufficient, Mistress Avera?'
She said, tilting her head a little. Avera drank her wine, until it reached around half, and denied Saxon's question with a childish look.
'No, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is–'
The blonde-haired child's eyes glared at the scar on Saxon's neck and face.
'–do you really want to serve the person who gave you that scar?'
'Ha. Hahaha.'
The maid let out a laugh, or so it was supposed to be. It was done in a nonchalant tone, so it sounded more sarcastic. Avera looked at Saxon with a dumbfounded expression. Her eyebrow twitched as the glass of wine slipped out of her hand and cracked a mess on the beautifully polished floor.
'Oh, did my laugh really excite you that much, Mistress?'
Saxon went to the nearby table and got a napkin. With that, she started cleaning up the mess.
'No, the real question should be, was that even a genuine laugh? No, no. Scrap that. The question should be... Did you just try to laugh?'
'That is incorrect. I did not try to laugh, I did laugh. Even someone as great as you, Mistress Avera, should be able to tell the difference.'
(No. I really can't.)
Avera thought. She sighed.
'I know you lost your memories after gaining that scar, but you shouldn't have forgotten what emotions truly are.'
'You are the one to talk, Dracula. You completely ignore the feelings of tho–'
'Don't call me that.'
The tone of Avera was menacing. More menacing than any animal or being, even so, Saxon didn't shake. She stood up and folded the napkin while nodding to her master.
'Besides, I haven't sucked on a person's blood for a hundred years. I feel like I'm dying. Drinking blood from blood donations can't sate this hunger forever. It sickens me but, one day I'll have to drink someone's blood.'
'Then, I shall get your person.'
'What?'
'I shall find the perfect individual to satisfy your needs. Do not worry, Mistress Avera.'
Saxon looked at her master. Though her eyes were lifeless, per usual, Avera could tell that Saxon was determined to make her master's wish, Avera's, come true.
'Okay, go on. But if I think you'll die on me, then I'll bring you back.'
'Understood.'
And that is how the Cries of Disinterest started. The screams, from Ghastly Screams, were Avera when she felt excruciating pain from not drinking directly from a body for an entire century. For a vampire, it feels like their limbs are permanently coming off.