Castlevania- Nocturne Online

Richter grinned—a sharp, desperate, stupidly brave grin. "No promises, vampire."

Beside him, Alucard raised his sword. The last son of Dracula and the last heir of Belmont stood shoulder to shoulder on a dying wharf, facing an eclipse made flesh.

Richter looked up. The clouds had parted, but not for the moon. For a single, enormous eye of crimson and shadow, peering down at the earth from a rent in the sky. Erzsebet’s face, miles wide, smiled with a thousand fangs.

"Try not to die before I do," Alucard said. Castlevania- Nocturne

The rain stopped. Not faded—stopped. Mid-drop, the water hung suspended in the air like frozen tears. The temperature plummeted. The candlelit windows in the town behind them went dark, one by one, as if a giant hand was snuffing them out.

Richter finally turned. The vampire’s son was dressed in black and silver, his long platinum hair damp with the false rain. He held his father's sword, its blade etched with runes that wept light.

He stood alone on the dock, the Morning Star coiled at his hip, heavy as a coiled serpent. Behind him, the city slept in terrified ignorance. A few candles flickered in windows. A dog barked somewhere in the dark. They didn't know that the sun was being unmade. Richter grinned—a sharp, desperate, stupidly brave grin

"My family is dead," Richter whispered.

The dhampir stepped out of the shadow of a cargo crane. He looked no older than he had during the fall of Wallachia three centuries ago. But his eyes—those ancient, amber eyes—held a new kind of exhaustion. The exhaustion of a machine that had been built to kill his father and had been forced to keep running, long after its purpose had faded.

Richter almost laughed. Almost. "You think dignity matters? She drank the blood of a Sekhmet. She controls the night sky. Maria's beasts can't scratch her. My magic is like throwing firecrackers into an ocean." He looked down at his own hands. The hands that had failed to save his mother. "I'm not the Belmont she fears." Richter looked up

Alucard turned his head. For the first time, the mask of cold aristocracy cracked. Beneath it was something raw. "I know. I have outlived every friend I ever made. I will likely outlive you, too. And I am so tired of attending funerals for people who taught me how to feel."

"She's here," Alucard said, not a question.