On countless dark nights, the cold glow of the moon bathed the world in an eerie stillness. Jagged streaks of lightning tore through the sky, as if determined to uncover the secrets hidden within.
Life and death intertwined in an eternal dance. While life brought light and hope, death cast shadows of despair and darkness.
The hierarchy of vampire power was as follows:
Blood Angel (The Legendary Realm): The absolute pinnacle of strength.
Vampire Prince: Possessing unmatched power, aged 1,200 years or more.
Vampire Duke: Aged between 900 and 1,200 years.
Vampire Marquis: Aged between 700 and 900 years.
Vampire Count: Aged between 500 and 700 years.
Vampire Viscount: Aged between 300 and 500 years.
Vampire Baron: Aged between 100 and 500 years.
Vampire Initiate: Less than 100 years old.
To cultivate extraordinary heirs, clan leaders often demanded their strongest descendants participate in battles and contests. But over the endless expanse of time, even the most disciplined vampires occasionally succumbed to madness, overwhelmed by the monotony and loneliness of their immortal lives.
Some discovered a terrible secret: drinking the blood of other vampires could vastly enhance their powers. This revelation spread quickly, igniting a vicious arms race among the Thirteen Bloodborn clans. Driven by the thirst for ultimate power, these clans formed factions and waged devastating wars against one another, slaughtering their kin in brutal conflicts. Their contempt for humanity, whom they regarded as mere livestock, placed vampires at odds with all other living creatures.
This catastrophic struggle lasted for thousands of years and came to be known as the "Millennium War."
As vampires ravaged their own kind, their numbers dwindled, and they began to fade into the annals of history. The Bloodborn Apollo Clan, already few in number, became nothing more than a whispered legend.
As centuries turned to millennia, the year 2000 marked the dawn of a new age.
The Alps, the towering mountain range of Western Europe, takes its name from the Latin word for "white," a reference to the snow that blankets its peaks year-round and the glaciers that grace its valleys. Stretching from southeastern France through northern Italy, southern Switzerland, Liechtenstein, southern Germany, Austria, and Slovenia, the Alps span 1,200 kilometers in length and 130 to 260 kilometers in width, covering an area of about 207,000 square kilometers with an average elevation of 3,000 meters.
Divided into western, central, and eastern sections, the Alps house breathtaking landscapes. Between Mont Blanc and the Splügen Pass, near Lake Como, lie serene lakes and expansive mountain terrain, encompassing hundreds of hectares.
For 1,800 years, this picturesque region has served as the ancestral domain of the Huxwell family, one of Europe's most illustrious noble houses.
Deep within this area lies a secluded valley, spanning several hundred acres and surrounded by countless small peaks. The valley is a haven of beauty and tranquility. Ancient olive trees and hornbeam trees, some over a millennium old, stand alongside exotic plants so rare that even the most distinguished botanists cannot identify them. Vibrant flowers of every hue fill the air with their unmatched fragrance. Graceful deer roam freely, and even the notoriously aggressive European bison seems docile as it strolls through the greenery. Golden eagles and white storks soar above in serene harmony.
At the valley's center stands a castle, timeless and elegant, its walls entwined with lush, verdant vines. It is a place of quiet majesty, untouched by the ravages of time.
Before the ancient castle stood a tall, golden-haired, golden-eyed young man. From a distance, he seemed to blend effortlessly with the valley around him, as though he were its living embodiment. The harmony between him and his surroundings was so striking it felt as if he had emerged directly from the land itself. His skin was so flawless—translucent and porcelain-white—that it could make anyone, even women, seethe with envy.
This was Fanmuir Huxwell, the boy who had vanished from the world for over 1,500 years.
With the vast resources and support of his father, Duke Van Dest, Fanmuir had retreated into seclusion at an estate nestled in the foothills of the Alps.
To the public, Duke Van Dest claimed that he was overwhelmed by the grief of losing his son and had resolved to dedicate himself entirely to education and healthcare. His charitable actions earned him the admiration of many, and he prayed that God would bless the Huxwell family with prosperity and growth.
During a time when the Roman Empire was rife with suffering and bloodshed, Duke Van Dest's noble deeds brought the Huxwell family a stellar reputation, drawing loyal followers and steadfast protectors to their side.
In the following years, Duke Van Dest fathered three more sons and three daughters, ensuring the family's legacy flourished. The Huxwell family became one of Europe's most illustrious noble dynasties, celebrated in countless tales of goodwill and respect.
In secret, however, Duke Van Dest used the hospitals under his control to provide Fanmuir with a steady supply of fresh blood and rare medicinal herbs.
Likewise, he took advantage of his educational resources to send Fanmuir a constant stream of ancient texts and books of every kind.
Encouraged by his parents, Fanmuir slowly regained his confidence. Immersing himself in the study, he unlocked the inherited powers of the Bloodborn Apollo Clan and devoted himself to mastering his magical abilities. He resolved that he would not emerge from his seclusion until he had attained the rank of Vampire Prince.
For vampires, long periods of slumber were an essential part of growing stronger. Dormancy allowed them to refine their powers and accumulate energy. Through years of dedicated practice and over a millennium of slumber, Fanmuir finally ascended to the rank of Vampire Prince.
One early morning, Fanmuir stood before the ancient castle, its walls completely cloaked in green vines, surrounded by misty peaks and cascading waterfalls. With a long, resonant whistle, the valley came alive as all the birds and animals gathered around him, silently forming a circle.
"My little friends, it's time for me to leave," Fanmuir said with a bittersweet smile. "I'm heading into the human world to explore, learn, and grow. Please, take care of this place while I'm gone." He gently hugged the creatures that had come to bid him farewell.
After releasing the animals, Fanmuir gave them one last lingering look, waved his hand, and vanished before their eyes in the blink of an eye.
He inhaled deeply, and his body emitted a series of cracks and pops. The stunningly handsome young man transformed into an unremarkable golden-haired, golden-eyed boy.
With a small surge of power, Fanmuir lifted off the ground, leaving the valley behind as it returned to its serene state, now missing one extraordinary figure.
At the base of the Alps, Fanmuir appeared as if out of thin air. He turned to take in the vast expanse of peaks stretching endlessly into the horizon. "Truly worthy of being Europe's grandest mountain range," he thought.
As he made his way down the mountain, he encountered a tour group named "Freedom of Italy" heading upward. Intrigued, Fanmuir quietly joined the group from behind, subtly observing them while sensing the faint life energy emanating from the humans. Shaking his head slightly, he mused, "The life force of ordinary humans is so fragile. No wonder their lives rarely exceed a century."
The summer heat soon took its toll on the group. By the time they reached the halfway point, many had collapsed onto nearby steps or rocks, guzzling water in an attempt to recover. Fanmuir, though unaffected by the sun, instinctively sought shade, where he sat listening to the tourists' idle conversations. Every word was a novelty to him, and even their modern clothing fascinated him.
From his shaded perch, Fanmuir observed the humans around him. His gaze was suddenly drawn to two striking young women standing beneath a tree nearby. They wore sheer pink plaid T-shirts and tiny denim shorts, their long legs and graceful curves igniting imaginations.
Though Fanmuir was over 1,500 years old, his sheltered life in the mountains had shielded him from such sights. For the first time in centuries, his carefully honed self-control wavered.
"Their legs…they're mesmerizing. They've made my heart race. No wonder the inheritance emphasized experiencing the mortal world. Just the presence of women like this can disrupt my focus. I must strengthen my resolve!"
Even as he reminded himself, Fanmuir found his gaze returning repeatedly to the taller of the two women. With her elegant oval face, cherry lips, and confident air, she seemed to be around 22 years old.
Unbeknownst to Fanmuir, other men in the group were also stealing glances at the women. One particularly good-looking man in a casual white shirt couldn't help but stare at their long, bare legs before swallowing hard and reluctantly looking away.
Maria and Helena, the two women, were well aware of the attention they were receiving. The young man, who had initially followed them like a puppy, now only dared to admire them from afar after they displayed their sharp wit.
What truly caught them off guard, however, was the audacity of the seemingly ordinary boy who had joined midway. He unabashedly stared at them, his gaze even lingering boldly on their chests. If not for Maria's subtle reminders about the complexity of judging strangers too quickly, Helena might have already confronted the boy.