As a sharp ray of golden light pierced through the stained-glass border of a towering window, fragments of color scattered across the polished mahogany floor. The morning sun, indifferent to comfort, intruded upon the deep embrace of slumber, coaxing movement from the figure sprawled across an unkempt bed of deep blue silk.
A groggy sigh escaped him as he stirred, reluctantly drawn from the depths of sleep. His slightly pale skin glowed faintly beneath the fractured light, black hair cascading in loose waves over his forehead. Dressed in a nude turtleneck, he blinked against the morning haze, his moonlight-hued eyes tracing the mesmerizing dance of red, violet, and sapphire hues flickering across the dark floral wallpaper.
The room itself was a paradox of time—a fusion of antiquity and progress. Ornate wooden paneling lined the walls, whispering of an era long past, while a grand bookshelf loomed on one side, its contents a labyrinth of knowledge. A brass phonograph rested atop his desk, an elegant relic housing a hidden Bluetooth interface, awaiting a simple command and gaslamp-style fixtures adorned the walls, their amber glow stubbornly persisting despite the march of modernity.
Beside him, a mahogany nightstand held a smartphone encased in black leather and a receipt of payment for an inn, the screen of the phone displaying the time in an elegant, calligraphic font: 7:42 AM. Next to it lay a pocket watch—an anomaly in itself, for its hands moved without the aid of visible gears.
The air was rich with the scent of old parchment, polished wood, and the crisp freshness of morning.
This figure was none other than Aquarius Alucard.
As his vision adjusted, a sudden shriek tore from his lips, his hand flying to his temple as a sharp pain lanced through his skull.
"Ouch, ouch—damn it, that hurts!"
He gritted his teeth, rubbing his temples as a dull ache throbbed behind his eyes.
"Why the hell does my head feel like it's been split open?"
Muttering under his breath, he fought through the fog in his mind, trying to make sense of his current situation. Then, as if a dam had cracked, a fragmented realization struck him.
'Yes… I remember now. I was on the Azraelian ship when it was attacked by…'
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
A wave of unease crawled up his spine as his expression twisted in horror. He clenched his jaw, grasping at scattered memories like sand slipping through his fingers. Try as he might, he couldn't conjure a clear image of what had transpired. He wasn't even certain how he had ended up on that ship in the first place.
Slowly, he sank back against the headboard, pressing his fingers against his jaw in contemplation. An eerie detachment settled over him, a gnawing instinct warning him that something was wrong—as though his very sense of self was unraveling.
'Was it all just a hallucination? A delusion I created to deceive myself?'
With a sudden burst of determination, he slapped his own cheek, the sharp sting grounding him in reality.
"No. I am Aquarius Alucard."
A dark chuckle escaped him—low, humorless, and tinged with unease.
Something was amiss.
But there would be no answers in a room that wasn't even his. Sitting idly would solve nothing.
'I need to get out of here. If the ship was real, if the attack was real, then I should be able to find proof. I need to see if anyone else survived.'
Running a hand over his chest, he tried to recall the sensation he had felt on that ship—something visceral, something undeniable.
Letting out a deep breath, Aquarius rose from the bed, making his way toward the bathroom.
Luthadel City, 7:45 AM
The bathroom was a masterpiece of Victorian elegance enhanced by unseen technology. A clawfoot bathtub gleamed beneath the morning light, its brass fixtures adorned with a discreet temperature-control panel. The marble sink, inlaid with gold filigree, housed a sleek smart mirror, its surface flickering with data as he approached.
As he splashed cold water on his face, words materialized across the mirror's surface:
Luthadel City, 7:45 AM
Weather: Clear skies, 19°C
News: Accident on Arcane Waters.
Number of Survivors: 0.
Trade routes unstable due to sudden shifts in sea level and climate.
Aquarius froze.
His breath hitched as his fingers tightened against the sink's edge.
"…It was real."
A hollow laugh escaped him—part relief, part dread.
"Ha! I knew I wasn't hallucinating."
But his mirth was short-lived. His gaze flickered back to the words.
'No survivors…?'
His blood ran cold.
"What the—what do they mean, no survivors?!"**
His grip on the sink tightened.
"I'm standing right here!"
The report had labeled it a storm, not an attack. There was no mention of a monster. No mention of what he had seen.
'Do they know? Are they covering it up? What if it happens again—what if it already has?'
A surge of frustration boiled over, and before he realized it, his fist struck the mirror. The glass trembled beneath the impact, fine cracks webbing across its surface.
He stood there, panting.
Then, as if doused with cold water, clarity slammed into him.
'What the hell am I doing?'
Aquarius was not an impulsive man. He was not reckless, nor prone to fits of emotion. He did not forget crucial details. He did not lose control.
And yet, here he was.
Something was shifting inside him—something foreign, something corrosive. He needed to confirm the truth. Immediately.
***********************************
Aquarius stepped onto the bustling streets, his attire a seamless blend of sophistication and enigma:
A high-collared black waistcoat, tailored to perfection.
A dark blue tailcoat, its inner lining subtly woven with intricate patterns.
Slim-fit black trousers, polished leather boots.
Gloves laced with conductive fibers, allowing effortless interaction with mechanisms.
A silver brooch, shaped like an eclipse, fastened at his chest.
He clasped his pocket watch, inhaling the crisp morning air.
Luthadel City was a lively place .
The cobblestone streets gleamed beneath the rising sun, reinforced with hidden layers to soften the impact of footfalls and vehicles. Tram rails snaked through the city, their brass fixtures glinting as steam-powered transports glided past, their exposed gears turning with mechanical precision.
Gaslamp-style streetlights flickered warmly, powered by solar energy concealed beneath their antique façade. Bridges arched over winding canals, ivy cascading over wrought-iron railings.
The city thrived in a delicate balance of past and future:
Commoners, dressed in layered Victorian fashion, carried pocket watches that doubled as data interfaces.
Merchants & Artisans wares displayed beneath glass domes, offered alchemical elixirs and mechanical trinkets humming with unknown energy.
Nobility, draped in opulent embroidery, moved with an air of effortless supremacy.
Among them, automatons patrolled in silent efficiency—brass and steel constructs with glowing blue eyes, serving as guards, couriers, and public attendants.
Aquarius exhaled, scanning the skyline as an airship drifted lazily above, its silver hull reflecting the sunlight.
Yet, despite its familiar splendor, something about the city felt… off.
'It felt orchestrated—perfect, and controlled.'
Pushing aside the creeping unease, he focused on his objective.
A brass vehicle with Ornate engravings on it's body, lantern-style headlights on the side directly above each side window with modern LED cores at the front and back, Gothic-style windows and stained glass elements and Leather-strapped luggage racks and exposed rivets. The wheels spoked with reinforced rubber instead of plain alloys.
The cab pulled up, its polished body reflecting the morning glow. The driver, a dark skinned young man in a crisp suit and conductor's hat, offered him a cordial smile.
"You're the one who called, sir?"
Aquarius nodded, returning a faint smile.
"Good. I ain't the fastest, but I'll get you there in one piece."
He stepped into the vehicle. The interior was made out of rich mahogany and ebony dashboards with brass inlays, leather seats with 'Chesterfield style' buttoned upholstery and analog-style gauges with modern digital displays inside and intricate gear-shift levers resembling mechanical clockwork. Before he knew it the cab set off—destination: Street 4, Eastern Luthadel.