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Dracula the Un-dead is a direct continuation of Stoker's work and this makes the Canonical book, of which everyone is already tired of knowing. I downloaded the PDF to read and read the work (I had to translate many things, after all, it's in Italian).
Here are some feats of Dracula
"La contessa gett├▓ l'altra spada a Dracula e gli si scagli├▓ contro per decapitarlo. Il principe, benché colto alla sprovvista, afferr├▓ al volo l'arma del padre, e con un guizzo fulmineo schiv├▓ l'attacco della contessa. Poi si mise in guardia e attese" (ITALIAN)
"The Countess threw the other sword at Dracula and flung herself at him to decapitate him.The Prince, though caught off guard, seized his father's weapon on the fly, and with a flash of lightning he dodged the Countess's attack. on guard and expectations " (ENGLISH)
Elizabeth is faster than Dracula and a few pages back this was made explicit.
She also moves like a lightning bolt, only the fight between the two has practically two chapters (or three) and he has stayed with her in combat.
"Fu allora che la contessa mise in atto il suo piano. Un attimo prima che la lama di Dracula la decapitasse, sfruttò il vantaggio della velocità e, con un guizzo fulmineo, si piegò all'indietro" (ITALIAN)
"It was then that the countess put her plan into practice. A moment before Dracula's blade decapitated her, she took advantage of the speed and, like lightning, leaned back." (ENGLISH)
Below, a small bonus from the vampire powers
Vampires Power:
"Ci scusiamo fin d'ora con i puristi del romanzo, ma abbiamo ritenuto necessario fare alcune concessioni agli appassionati di Dracula nella speranza di armonizzarli una volta per tutte. Eccole: la storia d'amore fra Mina e Dracula, la capacità dei vampiri di muoversi anche alla luce del giorno, di volare e di cambiare forma, le armi utilizzate per distruggerli e la denominazione e l'ubicazione di alcuni siti geografici." (ITALIAN)
"We apologize immediately to the purists of the novel, but we find it necessary to make some concessions to Dracula's enthusiasts, hoping to harmonize them once and for all." Here they are: the love story between Mina and Dracula, to move in the light of day, to fly and to change their form, the weapons used to destroy them, and the location and location of some geographic locations. " (ENGLISH)
Levitation and Telecinese
"Quanto alla capacità dei vampiri di spostarsi rapidamente in volo, abbiamo attinto alla telecinesi e alla levitazione (la capacità di muovere se stessi e gli oggetti con la forza del pensiero)." (ITALIAN)
"As for the ability of vampires to move quickly in flight, we have drawn on telekinesis and levitation (the ability to move oneself and objects with the force of thought)." (ENGLISH)
Lightning = Light (lol)
Light = 300.000 km/ s
Dracula Is FTL, Elizabeth Bárthory Is FTL+
Elizabeth VS Dracula:
"You cut my throat, leaving me agonizing," the countess hissed. "But tonight I'm here, in front of you, with the strength of a thousand demons. And I swear to you, this time, you will not escape death. "Dracula looked at her from the top of the boulder and answered her resolutely," Be careful. God is at my side in this battle ┬╗. "It will be your blind trust in God to bring you to ruin." Dracula opened his cloak with one hand and threw something toward the countess with the other.
The moonlight lit two swords in flight, which stuck into the ground. "As before," Dracula challenged her. The woman stared at the two weapons. "Is your father's sword?" She asked, pointing to the one closest to her. "Yes," said Dracula. "And the other one of the many belonged to my brother." "You flatter me," she said, approaching the swords and studying them. Both were exquisitely crafted, and of a typical style of five hundred years ago. Judging by the numerous scratches, both blades had fought numerous battles and poured a lot of blood.
But that was right. She and Dracula could never use virgin steel, not with their history to weigh on their shoulders. Countess Bàthory took both swords, clutching them in her skeletal, gnarled hands. One had a very pointed wooden hilt that could be used as a dagger. The other, on the other hand, had a rounded ivory hilt, but the V-shaped guard, with the point turned towards the hilt.
A skilled fencer could have used that feature to his advantage. It was Radu's sword, and it was right for him. The countess threw the other sword at Dracula and flung herself at him to decapitate him. The prince, though caught off guard, seized his father's weapon on the fly, and with a flash of lightning he dodged the countess's attack. Then he warned and waited. Elizabeth Bàthory's disfigured face twisted into a sneer
Dracula, as a good hunter, swung his blade as if it were on a stage. The countess thought of her mentor and sighed. How he wished he could witness Dracula's defeat! "Have you ever asked yourself, Vlad," he told him, unable to resist the urge to reopen old wounds, "who hates you more than me?" Dracula was dumbfounded. "How many enemies, mortal and undead, do they collect in one life?" "In all these years, Vlad, have you ever wondered who took me to revenge after what you had done to me?"
"Who gave me the dark gift?" Elizabeth Bàthory sensed Dracula's attempt to read her mind to discover the identity of her mentor, the one who had turned her into a vampire. She rejoiced at the thought of the imminent revelation. He wanted to destroy Dracula's trust and see him consumed with rage. «I am not alone in my war against God, indeed: I am one among many. You believe yourself courageous because you are here to face me. But you're an arrogant fool if you think you can change the fate of the world. "The prince snarled. He had finally visualized the countess's mentor's face.
He knew it all too well. The hatred that opposed them was legendary. His eyes flared with anger. With a piercing scream, he jumped down from the boulder, hurling himself at her. Elizabeth parried the blow, but was shocked by his violence. Dracula was a fury. Their blades intersected in a shower of sparks, and their clanging splattered the night like the trumpets of the Apocalypse.
Mina smelled human blood. He opened his eyelids and was blinded by the light of an oil lamp. He saw the indistinct shape of a man bent over her, but was immediately forced to close his eyes. Fortunately, the smell of blood was so strong, so intoxicating, that he could easily grasp his first victim, even if he did not see it. He needed to feed himself. "Blood is life!" I think. He opened his mouth wide, running his tongue over his fangs, and felt herself growl like a ferocious beast. Then, a moment before striking,
he heard a voice murmur, "Mother?" It was a whisper, but his throat sounded like a thunder. Mina remained petrified: it was her son's voice, Quincey. The lantern light was still blinding, but he forced himself to open his eyes and was stunned by what he saw.
Everything seemed clearer and more vivid; he could even see the heat emanating from the body in front of him. Looking closer, he recognized a beloved face. It was Quincey. He was alive and, finally, safe. But his eyes expressed the deepest horror. Mina was overwhelmed by shame and guilt. "Quincey, forgive me," he said. Her fangs withdrew into her gums and her mind regained lucidity. His son's expression was excruciating. Mina felt the sudden need to comfort him. Dracula had told her the truth: if she could still feel emotions, experience love, pain and guilt, she would not have become a demon and her soul would have been saved.
"My mother is dead," Quincey said coldly, moving away from the coffin. "No! That's what Van Helsing said, but it's not true! "Mina exclaimed in a pleading tone, desperately searching for the right words. Hearing the name of the professor, Quincey winced. Mina read a deep torment in his eyes: he had to explain to him how things really were. "Van Helsing was wrong. I'm still your mother, Quincey, "he said, holding out his arms and hoping for his forgiveness. Instead he saw the energy emanating from his son's body change color, from a benevolent heavenly to a bright red.
Even the expression on his face changed. Quincey's logical mind was prevailing over his emotions. "No!" He shouted, pushing her away with such violence that Mina fell over the coffin, splitting it, and then rolling on the cold stone floor. He was weak and urgently needed blood. While trying to get up, Quincey moved further away from her, shaking her head in disbelief and disgust. At that moment, the energy that emanated became black and Mina read in her mind a single thought: "Kill her". "Quincey, no!" He shouted, staggering toward him. "Forget about it
not even! "He turned and grabbed the handle of the stick, gripping it so tightly that the blood began to ooze from the wounds in his fingers. Mina tried not to be overwhelmed by that smell so intoxicating.
Quincey hesitated, his face streaked with tears. Then he turned and, without saying a word, fled. "Quincey, wait! It was my choice! "Mina cried, trying to hold him back. "We did it to save you from the Countess Bàthory!" He took a few steps forward, then collapsed to the ground. In the state he was in, he would never have been able to reach him or prevent him from making a serious mistake. But he had to find it before he met Dracula.
He knew that the prince would never hurt his son by failing to speak his word, but he feared Quincey's ingenuity. In his ignorance, he could have sided with Elizabeth Bàthory, hoping to get his revenge against Dracula. Mina's acute senses stunned her: she smelled rotting corpses, mold growing on stone, animal droppings, air humidity. He heard Quincey's steps climbing the stairs. And she was almost deafened by the sound of the drops of water falling into a puddle in the corner. Only then did he understand why Lucy had gone mad.
She had entered a coma after a wrong transfusion by Van Helsing and had awakened in a confused, disoriented, blood-thirsty coffin. Nobody had told her what had happened. Dracula, hunted by the company of the heroes, had to escape without being able to provide any clarification about his new condition as a vampire. That's why Lucy had drunk the blood of the first victim that had fallen into her: a child. Even Mina was prey to a relentless thirst, but forced herself to remain lucid. After all, Dracula had prepared it. She was aware of what was happening to her and knew what she was supposed to do to stop Quincey.
He needed blood. His hunger did not come from the stomach, but every cell in his body wanted nourishment. His body was feeding on Dracula's, consuming it. He had to refresh himself, or he would have risked devouring himself.
Suddenly, he heard something moving in the crypt. He whirled around and, seeing rats running here and there, he immediately turned into a vampire. Putting aside his disgust, he threw himself over them and gutted them with sharp fangs. The cries of agonizing animals pierced her ears. Still, he drank: he had no other choice. Blood is life!
Dracula's fierce attack took Countess Bàthory off guard. The force of his blows pushed her back more and more, until he found himself at the foot of the steps leading to the abbey and had to begin to climb. His decision to use the carriage not to waste energy had proved wise: he needed all his strength to face the blows of Dracula. All the better: he would do anything to see him defeated. Dracula, eyes wide open, teeth clenched, looked like a madman. Elizabeth Bàthory continued to back away, trying not to betray the pain she felt: she did not want to give him that satisfaction.
Her mentor's words echoed in her mind: "Let's learn from pain." What he was facing was not the same Dracula he had faced in the subway: he was much stronger. Mina must have helped him get well. She would have thought about it later. Dracula realized that the countess was in trouble and became even more daring. In the countess's head, however, a plan was taking shape, Dracula could be stronger than she, but she could not keep that pace for a long time.
Moreover, she was much faster than him. The prince launched a series of deadly attacks. The swords clashed against each other and the countess struggled to block the blows. The triumphant expression of Dracula was unbearable. At one point, she was forced to turn around and run up the stairs to the next terrace, dragging her sword. She seemed exhausted and close to surrender. Dracula pursued her, convinced he was one step away from the victory. His arrogance was such that he had even lowered his sword, as if the countess no longer posed a threat. "Come in. Come and die," he thought. When Dracula reached the little terrace where Elizabeth was waiting for him, he did not attack her, but paused to look at her devastated beauty. The countess saw the anger vanish from her face and give way to a deep sadness. He hated to admit it, but he understood
what he was thinking.
By killing her, she would lose a part of herself. They were similar, basically: two immortals who led solitary lives. They could have been companions, allies. But because Elizabeth had chosen to turn her back to God, Dracula had to turn to her. Then the countess saw him change his expression again: he had decided to put an end to their long-standing feud once and for all. He had decided to kill her. "Poor illusion," he thought. Dracula rolled his sword with the intent to decapitate it. Even on that occasion, he would have shown himself to be merciful, granting her a painless death. It was then that the countess put her plan into effect. A moment before the blade of Dracula beheaded her, she took advantage of the speed and, with a flash of lightning, leaned back. The Prince's sword blew through her face and, missing the target, dragged him forward, causing him to lose his balance. With a movement so fast that it was almost imperceptible, the Countess Bàthory stuck Dracula's sword into her own guard and thrust her into the damp earth next to the stone steps. Then he pulled out the kukri knife and sank it into his abdomen, tearing it to his chest.
Dracula screamed and fell backwards as his blood spurted in torrents, flooding Elizabeth. The wound was so deep that he was forced to dab it with both hands. The countess dropped her sword and showed him the knife. "Do you remember?" The flash of horror he saw in his eyes was the answer he was looking for. "Your time has come. Our long war is over, and I'm the winner. Finally, I will rule the world from that superior being that I am. And God will turn his back on men, as he did with me in time of need.
He took away everything I loved, including my children. His laws have led my family to abandon me, my husband to torture me, my people to ignore me. For this, now, I spit on Him. And on you, His paladin. You came to my aid, it's true. But when you realized that I could no longer change my nature and sought justice, you tried to kill me. Did not I deserve revenge?
Well, now I got it. God will not find room in the world I will create. "Quincey P. Morris's blade was plain metal, but the memories connected to it were powerful. The countess turned the knife, allowing Dracula to recognize the same weapon she had used in Transylvania. The prince stared at her in a trance. Again, he had underestimated his opponent's cunning. "This time, the Texan's blade will carry out its task," the countess murmured. Dracula backed away, hands on the wound. But it was not only the Countess Bàthory's fear that led him to retreat. His eyes were fixed on a point behind Elizabeth, who turned and realized that dawn was coming. Time was up for both. Suddenly there was a piercing scream. Countess Bàthory turned again and saw Dracula hurl at her. He hit her in the chest, throwing him down the steps.
Then he picked up Elizabeth's sword, rose in the air above his head, bathing it with his blood, and fell back on the steps above her, trying again to decapitate her. "Did not he learn anything?" thought Countess Bàthory, dodging the blow as the prince's blade stuck into one of the steps, cracking. Then he threw himself on Dracula's sword, still planted in the ground. The two contenders exchanged their weapons. Elizabeth swung her sword and launched herself at her enemy, knowing that victory was near. At that moment, Dracula underwent a frightening transformation: the eyes became similar to those of a reptile, the skin turned green, the ears lengthened. His mouth grew larger, showing rows of sharp, protruding fangs.
It always happened to him when he was in danger and when he wanted to infuse terror into his mortal enemies. But it would have had no effect on Elizabeth Bàthory, who had nothing left of mortal. The countess pounced on the prince, who backed away from the speed and ferocity of his attack, climbing the last steps. As he approached the top of the cliff, the rock wall was reduced, exposing his back to the rising sun. The malefics
rays would have struck him first, thought the countess.
She would remain in the shadows. The crusader of God had the minutes counted. Elizabeth felt Dracula grow weaker. The blood continued to gush from the wound that had inflicted him ... And here the sun's rays struck his back. The countess gave him no respite, knowing that she could not last long. Then he would finally hit his heart.
Mina stumbled forward into the dark, winding corridors of the abbey. Despite the darkness, he could see perfectly. It was no longer a creature of light, but a nocturnal predator. His body was in turmoil, torn between hunger pangs and retching. Suddenly he felt dizzy and leaned against the icy wall. Then he felt a tightening in his stomach and vomited blood. Why was he rejecting the blood of the rats? Perhaps, being a young vampire, she would have to drink only human blood. Suddenly, in the roar of the storm raging outside, he heard the slight but distinct noise of rain and wind on the wood. The door of the abbey! Mina followed the sound, crossing the basement of the building.
He could smell the humidity, the smoke from the candles, even the dead rats he had left behind. He could smell his son. It must have been there. Finally, he understood what Dracula meant when he said vampires were superior to mortals. Although he felt weak and fragile, he was much stronger than any man. Only his fear for the safety of Quincey was still very human. Letting himself be guided by the smells and sounds, Mina reached the front door of the abbey. When he opened it, she was overcome by such a strong pain that she was forced to withdraw into the shadows. The sun! It was dawn. Her instinct told her to shield herself from the light, but the urge to find Quincey pushed her back outside. The rays of the sun were like innumerable needles that stung her skin. It was painful, yes, but bearable.
Blinded by the light, she ran across the field until her eyes began to get used to the light. But then it was
again assaulted by nausea, and stumbled, falling to the ground. When he looked up, he saw Quincey standing among the graves of the cemetery and heard the clash of swords. He tried to figure out where he was looking at his son and saw two figures trying to fight on the stairs leading to the abbey. Mina knew it was Dracula and Countess Bàthory. He felt that Quincey was uncertain what to do: he was considering whether or not to intervene.
Mina got up with difficulty. He had to reach his son before he made a decision.
Quincey watched, as if in a trance, the battle that was taking place before his eyes. Dracula was in trouble. The skeletal creature that attacked him was fast as lightning, and he was pushing him toward the top of the cliff and toward the rising sun. The young man had to do nothing but throw himself into the fray. But he could not move. The creature who was fighting against her bitter enemy must have been the countess Van Helsing had told him about, as well as the infamous Jack the Ripper. If he had sided with him, Dracula would have no escape. Instinct warned him to be careful, but the reason told him: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
The countess gave a scary snarl. Centuries of obsession had led her there. Victory was close. He continued to attack Dracula, feeling him weaker and weaker as the sun rose. He breathed heavily and kept losing blood. It was time to quell the coup de grace. As they climbed the last few steps, Elizabeth thought of all the pain she had to endure in her long life and felt invaded by an uncontrollable fury, which she poured into the final blow. Dracula's sword, already cracked, gave way: the blade went to pieces and he fell backwards. The countess exulted, anticipating her death. If he had time, he would cry tears of joy. With the kukri knife still in his left hand, he raised his sword with his right hand, holding it like a spear, and made to stick it in the prince's heart.
A moment before stabbing him, however, he saw his terrified expression give way to a wicked smile. Dracula reached out and grabbed the Countess's sword, blocking the blow. As he pushed her away, the sharp blade cut off his fingers, then plunged into the stone of the last step. Elizabeth lost her balance and fell on top of him, who took advantage of it to sink her broken sword into her abdomen, piercing her from side to side. Countess Bàthory had bet and lost. It was deeply unfair. All his plans, all his machinations had gone up in smoke. Amid atrocious pains, he looked up at Dracula's smiling face, which had once again assumed its human form. The prince had played cunningly. He had looked inside her and understood his anger, his arrogance.
His obsession. He had deliberately picked up his cracked sword and pretended to be freaked out. From that great actor he was, he played a part. The countess had forgotten the golden rule of every fight: never underestimate your opponent. Dracula drew the blade from Elizabeth's abdomen and threw it away. Then he looked at her sadly. "No knight of God can succumb to an evil adversary." Hearing the name of God, the countess felt angry. With a creepy scream, he pounced on Dracula and tore at his throat with the kukri knife still clutching in his hand.
Then, forgetting his own pain, he burst into uncontrollable laughter. Dracula's distraught expression as he wore his hand with his stubby fingers around his neck to dab up the blood rushing out of the wound was priceless. Then, however, his face contorted in a grimace of rage. He clenched his fist and sank it into the pierced abdomen of the countess. "God loved you," he growled. "You chose to kill because you did not want to accept his love. You are solely responsible for your crimes. "Dracula grabbed the countess's heart and pulled it out of his body. Elizabeth Bàthory stared in disbelief at the still-palpitating black heart that the prince clutched in his fingers. Then, with a heartbreaking cry, he thrust the knife into Dracula's chest. He knew he did not have enough strength to sink it to his heart, but the wounds he had inflicted and the deadly rays of the sun would surely have given him the coup de grace. Their duel was finished on par. They had won and lost both.
Not wanting to die at Dracula's feet, he threw himself backward and rolled off the hundred and ninety-nine steps. During the long fall, he felt the bones of his broken body breaking one after the other, but he did not feel pain. Dracula's death would have marked the advent of a new world order, even if it would not have guided her. While exhaling the fatal breath, his last thought was that the countess Elizabeth Bàthory, despised, abused, debased, terrified, had died paving the way to the destruction of the world: an epitaph as appropriate for a creature to whom God had turned his back .
Quincey saw the countess fall, leaving Dracula alone, with the knife still planted in her chest. A few more moments and the sun's rays would have illuminated him directly." (ENGLISH)
for obvious reasons I will not post this fight in both languages!
Here are some feats of Dracula
"La contessa gett├▓ l'altra spada a Dracula e gli si scagli├▓ contro per decapitarlo. Il principe, benché colto alla sprovvista, afferr├▓ al volo l'arma del padre, e con un guizzo fulmineo schiv├▓ l'attacco della contessa. Poi si mise in guardia e attese" (ITALIAN)
"The Countess threw the other sword at Dracula and flung herself at him to decapitate him.The Prince, though caught off guard, seized his father's weapon on the fly, and with a flash of lightning he dodged the Countess's attack. on guard and expectations " (ENGLISH)
Elizabeth is faster than Dracula and a few pages back this was made explicit.
She also moves like a lightning bolt, only the fight between the two has practically two chapters (or three) and he has stayed with her in combat.
"Fu allora che la contessa mise in atto il suo piano. Un attimo prima che la lama di Dracula la decapitasse, sfruttò il vantaggio della velocità e, con un guizzo fulmineo, si piegò all'indietro" (ITALIAN)
"It was then that the countess put her plan into practice. A moment before Dracula's blade decapitated her, she took advantage of the speed and, like lightning, leaned back." (ENGLISH)
Below, a small bonus from the vampire powers
Vampires Power:
"Ci scusiamo fin d'ora con i puristi del romanzo, ma abbiamo ritenuto necessario fare alcune concessioni agli appassionati di Dracula nella speranza di armonizzarli una volta per tutte. Eccole: la storia d'amore fra Mina e Dracula, la capacità dei vampiri di muoversi anche alla luce del giorno, di volare e di cambiare forma, le armi utilizzate per distruggerli e la denominazione e l'ubicazione di alcuni siti geografici." (ITALIAN)
"We apologize immediately to the purists of the novel, but we find it necessary to make some concessions to Dracula's enthusiasts, hoping to harmonize them once and for all." Here they are: the love story between Mina and Dracula, to move in the light of day, to fly and to change their form, the weapons used to destroy them, and the location and location of some geographic locations. " (ENGLISH)
Levitation and Telecinese
"Quanto alla capacità dei vampiri di spostarsi rapidamente in volo, abbiamo attinto alla telecinesi e alla levitazione (la capacità di muovere se stessi e gli oggetti con la forza del pensiero)." (ITALIAN)
"As for the ability of vampires to move quickly in flight, we have drawn on telekinesis and levitation (the ability to move oneself and objects with the force of thought)." (ENGLISH)
Lightning = Light (lol)
Light = 300.000 km/ s
Dracula Is FTL, Elizabeth Bárthory Is FTL+
Elizabeth VS Dracula:
"You cut my throat, leaving me agonizing," the countess hissed. "But tonight I'm here, in front of you, with the strength of a thousand demons. And I swear to you, this time, you will not escape death. "Dracula looked at her from the top of the boulder and answered her resolutely," Be careful. God is at my side in this battle ┬╗. "It will be your blind trust in God to bring you to ruin." Dracula opened his cloak with one hand and threw something toward the countess with the other.
The moonlight lit two swords in flight, which stuck into the ground. "As before," Dracula challenged her. The woman stared at the two weapons. "Is your father's sword?" She asked, pointing to the one closest to her. "Yes," said Dracula. "And the other one of the many belonged to my brother." "You flatter me," she said, approaching the swords and studying them. Both were exquisitely crafted, and of a typical style of five hundred years ago. Judging by the numerous scratches, both blades had fought numerous battles and poured a lot of blood.
But that was right. She and Dracula could never use virgin steel, not with their history to weigh on their shoulders. Countess Bàthory took both swords, clutching them in her skeletal, gnarled hands. One had a very pointed wooden hilt that could be used as a dagger. The other, on the other hand, had a rounded ivory hilt, but the V-shaped guard, with the point turned towards the hilt.
A skilled fencer could have used that feature to his advantage. It was Radu's sword, and it was right for him. The countess threw the other sword at Dracula and flung herself at him to decapitate him. The prince, though caught off guard, seized his father's weapon on the fly, and with a flash of lightning he dodged the countess's attack. Then he warned and waited. Elizabeth Bàthory's disfigured face twisted into a sneer
Dracula, as a good hunter, swung his blade as if it were on a stage. The countess thought of her mentor and sighed. How he wished he could witness Dracula's defeat! "Have you ever asked yourself, Vlad," he told him, unable to resist the urge to reopen old wounds, "who hates you more than me?" Dracula was dumbfounded. "How many enemies, mortal and undead, do they collect in one life?" "In all these years, Vlad, have you ever wondered who took me to revenge after what you had done to me?"
"Who gave me the dark gift?" Elizabeth Bàthory sensed Dracula's attempt to read her mind to discover the identity of her mentor, the one who had turned her into a vampire. She rejoiced at the thought of the imminent revelation. He wanted to destroy Dracula's trust and see him consumed with rage. «I am not alone in my war against God, indeed: I am one among many. You believe yourself courageous because you are here to face me. But you're an arrogant fool if you think you can change the fate of the world. "The prince snarled. He had finally visualized the countess's mentor's face.
He knew it all too well. The hatred that opposed them was legendary. His eyes flared with anger. With a piercing scream, he jumped down from the boulder, hurling himself at her. Elizabeth parried the blow, but was shocked by his violence. Dracula was a fury. Their blades intersected in a shower of sparks, and their clanging splattered the night like the trumpets of the Apocalypse.
Mina smelled human blood. He opened his eyelids and was blinded by the light of an oil lamp. He saw the indistinct shape of a man bent over her, but was immediately forced to close his eyes. Fortunately, the smell of blood was so strong, so intoxicating, that he could easily grasp his first victim, even if he did not see it. He needed to feed himself. "Blood is life!" I think. He opened his mouth wide, running his tongue over his fangs, and felt herself growl like a ferocious beast. Then, a moment before striking,
he heard a voice murmur, "Mother?" It was a whisper, but his throat sounded like a thunder. Mina remained petrified: it was her son's voice, Quincey. The lantern light was still blinding, but he forced himself to open his eyes and was stunned by what he saw.
Everything seemed clearer and more vivid; he could even see the heat emanating from the body in front of him. Looking closer, he recognized a beloved face. It was Quincey. He was alive and, finally, safe. But his eyes expressed the deepest horror. Mina was overwhelmed by shame and guilt. "Quincey, forgive me," he said. Her fangs withdrew into her gums and her mind regained lucidity. His son's expression was excruciating. Mina felt the sudden need to comfort him. Dracula had told her the truth: if she could still feel emotions, experience love, pain and guilt, she would not have become a demon and her soul would have been saved.
"My mother is dead," Quincey said coldly, moving away from the coffin. "No! That's what Van Helsing said, but it's not true! "Mina exclaimed in a pleading tone, desperately searching for the right words. Hearing the name of the professor, Quincey winced. Mina read a deep torment in his eyes: he had to explain to him how things really were. "Van Helsing was wrong. I'm still your mother, Quincey, "he said, holding out his arms and hoping for his forgiveness. Instead he saw the energy emanating from his son's body change color, from a benevolent heavenly to a bright red.
Even the expression on his face changed. Quincey's logical mind was prevailing over his emotions. "No!" He shouted, pushing her away with such violence that Mina fell over the coffin, splitting it, and then rolling on the cold stone floor. He was weak and urgently needed blood. While trying to get up, Quincey moved further away from her, shaking her head in disbelief and disgust. At that moment, the energy that emanated became black and Mina read in her mind a single thought: "Kill her". "Quincey, no!" He shouted, staggering toward him. "Forget about it
not even! "He turned and grabbed the handle of the stick, gripping it so tightly that the blood began to ooze from the wounds in his fingers. Mina tried not to be overwhelmed by that smell so intoxicating.
Quincey hesitated, his face streaked with tears. Then he turned and, without saying a word, fled. "Quincey, wait! It was my choice! "Mina cried, trying to hold him back. "We did it to save you from the Countess Bàthory!" He took a few steps forward, then collapsed to the ground. In the state he was in, he would never have been able to reach him or prevent him from making a serious mistake. But he had to find it before he met Dracula.
He knew that the prince would never hurt his son by failing to speak his word, but he feared Quincey's ingenuity. In his ignorance, he could have sided with Elizabeth Bàthory, hoping to get his revenge against Dracula. Mina's acute senses stunned her: she smelled rotting corpses, mold growing on stone, animal droppings, air humidity. He heard Quincey's steps climbing the stairs. And she was almost deafened by the sound of the drops of water falling into a puddle in the corner. Only then did he understand why Lucy had gone mad.
She had entered a coma after a wrong transfusion by Van Helsing and had awakened in a confused, disoriented, blood-thirsty coffin. Nobody had told her what had happened. Dracula, hunted by the company of the heroes, had to escape without being able to provide any clarification about his new condition as a vampire. That's why Lucy had drunk the blood of the first victim that had fallen into her: a child. Even Mina was prey to a relentless thirst, but forced herself to remain lucid. After all, Dracula had prepared it. She was aware of what was happening to her and knew what she was supposed to do to stop Quincey.
He needed blood. His hunger did not come from the stomach, but every cell in his body wanted nourishment. His body was feeding on Dracula's, consuming it. He had to refresh himself, or he would have risked devouring himself.
Suddenly, he heard something moving in the crypt. He whirled around and, seeing rats running here and there, he immediately turned into a vampire. Putting aside his disgust, he threw himself over them and gutted them with sharp fangs. The cries of agonizing animals pierced her ears. Still, he drank: he had no other choice. Blood is life!
Dracula's fierce attack took Countess Bàthory off guard. The force of his blows pushed her back more and more, until he found himself at the foot of the steps leading to the abbey and had to begin to climb. His decision to use the carriage not to waste energy had proved wise: he needed all his strength to face the blows of Dracula. All the better: he would do anything to see him defeated. Dracula, eyes wide open, teeth clenched, looked like a madman. Elizabeth Bàthory continued to back away, trying not to betray the pain she felt: she did not want to give him that satisfaction.
Her mentor's words echoed in her mind: "Let's learn from pain." What he was facing was not the same Dracula he had faced in the subway: he was much stronger. Mina must have helped him get well. She would have thought about it later. Dracula realized that the countess was in trouble and became even more daring. In the countess's head, however, a plan was taking shape, Dracula could be stronger than she, but she could not keep that pace for a long time.
Moreover, she was much faster than him. The prince launched a series of deadly attacks. The swords clashed against each other and the countess struggled to block the blows. The triumphant expression of Dracula was unbearable. At one point, she was forced to turn around and run up the stairs to the next terrace, dragging her sword. She seemed exhausted and close to surrender. Dracula pursued her, convinced he was one step away from the victory. His arrogance was such that he had even lowered his sword, as if the countess no longer posed a threat. "Come in. Come and die," he thought. When Dracula reached the little terrace where Elizabeth was waiting for him, he did not attack her, but paused to look at her devastated beauty. The countess saw the anger vanish from her face and give way to a deep sadness. He hated to admit it, but he understood
what he was thinking.
By killing her, she would lose a part of herself. They were similar, basically: two immortals who led solitary lives. They could have been companions, allies. But because Elizabeth had chosen to turn her back to God, Dracula had to turn to her. Then the countess saw him change his expression again: he had decided to put an end to their long-standing feud once and for all. He had decided to kill her. "Poor illusion," he thought. Dracula rolled his sword with the intent to decapitate it. Even on that occasion, he would have shown himself to be merciful, granting her a painless death. It was then that the countess put her plan into effect. A moment before the blade of Dracula beheaded her, she took advantage of the speed and, with a flash of lightning, leaned back. The Prince's sword blew through her face and, missing the target, dragged him forward, causing him to lose his balance. With a movement so fast that it was almost imperceptible, the Countess Bàthory stuck Dracula's sword into her own guard and thrust her into the damp earth next to the stone steps. Then he pulled out the kukri knife and sank it into his abdomen, tearing it to his chest.
Dracula screamed and fell backwards as his blood spurted in torrents, flooding Elizabeth. The wound was so deep that he was forced to dab it with both hands. The countess dropped her sword and showed him the knife. "Do you remember?" The flash of horror he saw in his eyes was the answer he was looking for. "Your time has come. Our long war is over, and I'm the winner. Finally, I will rule the world from that superior being that I am. And God will turn his back on men, as he did with me in time of need.
He took away everything I loved, including my children. His laws have led my family to abandon me, my husband to torture me, my people to ignore me. For this, now, I spit on Him. And on you, His paladin. You came to my aid, it's true. But when you realized that I could no longer change my nature and sought justice, you tried to kill me. Did not I deserve revenge?
Well, now I got it. God will not find room in the world I will create. "Quincey P. Morris's blade was plain metal, but the memories connected to it were powerful. The countess turned the knife, allowing Dracula to recognize the same weapon she had used in Transylvania. The prince stared at her in a trance. Again, he had underestimated his opponent's cunning. "This time, the Texan's blade will carry out its task," the countess murmured. Dracula backed away, hands on the wound. But it was not only the Countess Bàthory's fear that led him to retreat. His eyes were fixed on a point behind Elizabeth, who turned and realized that dawn was coming. Time was up for both. Suddenly there was a piercing scream. Countess Bàthory turned again and saw Dracula hurl at her. He hit her in the chest, throwing him down the steps.
Then he picked up Elizabeth's sword, rose in the air above his head, bathing it with his blood, and fell back on the steps above her, trying again to decapitate her. "Did not he learn anything?" thought Countess Bàthory, dodging the blow as the prince's blade stuck into one of the steps, cracking. Then he threw himself on Dracula's sword, still planted in the ground. The two contenders exchanged their weapons. Elizabeth swung her sword and launched herself at her enemy, knowing that victory was near. At that moment, Dracula underwent a frightening transformation: the eyes became similar to those of a reptile, the skin turned green, the ears lengthened. His mouth grew larger, showing rows of sharp, protruding fangs.
It always happened to him when he was in danger and when he wanted to infuse terror into his mortal enemies. But it would have had no effect on Elizabeth Bàthory, who had nothing left of mortal. The countess pounced on the prince, who backed away from the speed and ferocity of his attack, climbing the last steps. As he approached the top of the cliff, the rock wall was reduced, exposing his back to the rising sun. The malefics
rays would have struck him first, thought the countess.
She would remain in the shadows. The crusader of God had the minutes counted. Elizabeth felt Dracula grow weaker. The blood continued to gush from the wound that had inflicted him ... And here the sun's rays struck his back. The countess gave him no respite, knowing that she could not last long. Then he would finally hit his heart.
Mina stumbled forward into the dark, winding corridors of the abbey. Despite the darkness, he could see perfectly. It was no longer a creature of light, but a nocturnal predator. His body was in turmoil, torn between hunger pangs and retching. Suddenly he felt dizzy and leaned against the icy wall. Then he felt a tightening in his stomach and vomited blood. Why was he rejecting the blood of the rats? Perhaps, being a young vampire, she would have to drink only human blood. Suddenly, in the roar of the storm raging outside, he heard the slight but distinct noise of rain and wind on the wood. The door of the abbey! Mina followed the sound, crossing the basement of the building.
He could smell the humidity, the smoke from the candles, even the dead rats he had left behind. He could smell his son. It must have been there. Finally, he understood what Dracula meant when he said vampires were superior to mortals. Although he felt weak and fragile, he was much stronger than any man. Only his fear for the safety of Quincey was still very human. Letting himself be guided by the smells and sounds, Mina reached the front door of the abbey. When he opened it, she was overcome by such a strong pain that she was forced to withdraw into the shadows. The sun! It was dawn. Her instinct told her to shield herself from the light, but the urge to find Quincey pushed her back outside. The rays of the sun were like innumerable needles that stung her skin. It was painful, yes, but bearable.
Blinded by the light, she ran across the field until her eyes began to get used to the light. But then it was
again assaulted by nausea, and stumbled, falling to the ground. When he looked up, he saw Quincey standing among the graves of the cemetery and heard the clash of swords. He tried to figure out where he was looking at his son and saw two figures trying to fight on the stairs leading to the abbey. Mina knew it was Dracula and Countess Bàthory. He felt that Quincey was uncertain what to do: he was considering whether or not to intervene.
Mina got up with difficulty. He had to reach his son before he made a decision.
Quincey watched, as if in a trance, the battle that was taking place before his eyes. Dracula was in trouble. The skeletal creature that attacked him was fast as lightning, and he was pushing him toward the top of the cliff and toward the rising sun. The young man had to do nothing but throw himself into the fray. But he could not move. The creature who was fighting against her bitter enemy must have been the countess Van Helsing had told him about, as well as the infamous Jack the Ripper. If he had sided with him, Dracula would have no escape. Instinct warned him to be careful, but the reason told him: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
The countess gave a scary snarl. Centuries of obsession had led her there. Victory was close. He continued to attack Dracula, feeling him weaker and weaker as the sun rose. He breathed heavily and kept losing blood. It was time to quell the coup de grace. As they climbed the last few steps, Elizabeth thought of all the pain she had to endure in her long life and felt invaded by an uncontrollable fury, which she poured into the final blow. Dracula's sword, already cracked, gave way: the blade went to pieces and he fell backwards. The countess exulted, anticipating her death. If he had time, he would cry tears of joy. With the kukri knife still in his left hand, he raised his sword with his right hand, holding it like a spear, and made to stick it in the prince's heart.
A moment before stabbing him, however, he saw his terrified expression give way to a wicked smile. Dracula reached out and grabbed the Countess's sword, blocking the blow. As he pushed her away, the sharp blade cut off his fingers, then plunged into the stone of the last step. Elizabeth lost her balance and fell on top of him, who took advantage of it to sink her broken sword into her abdomen, piercing her from side to side. Countess Bàthory had bet and lost. It was deeply unfair. All his plans, all his machinations had gone up in smoke. Amid atrocious pains, he looked up at Dracula's smiling face, which had once again assumed its human form. The prince had played cunningly. He had looked inside her and understood his anger, his arrogance.
His obsession. He had deliberately picked up his cracked sword and pretended to be freaked out. From that great actor he was, he played a part. The countess had forgotten the golden rule of every fight: never underestimate your opponent. Dracula drew the blade from Elizabeth's abdomen and threw it away. Then he looked at her sadly. "No knight of God can succumb to an evil adversary." Hearing the name of God, the countess felt angry. With a creepy scream, he pounced on Dracula and tore at his throat with the kukri knife still clutching in his hand.
Then, forgetting his own pain, he burst into uncontrollable laughter. Dracula's distraught expression as he wore his hand with his stubby fingers around his neck to dab up the blood rushing out of the wound was priceless. Then, however, his face contorted in a grimace of rage. He clenched his fist and sank it into the pierced abdomen of the countess. "God loved you," he growled. "You chose to kill because you did not want to accept his love. You are solely responsible for your crimes. "Dracula grabbed the countess's heart and pulled it out of his body. Elizabeth Bàthory stared in disbelief at the still-palpitating black heart that the prince clutched in his fingers. Then, with a heartbreaking cry, he thrust the knife into Dracula's chest. He knew he did not have enough strength to sink it to his heart, but the wounds he had inflicted and the deadly rays of the sun would surely have given him the coup de grace. Their duel was finished on par. They had won and lost both.
Not wanting to die at Dracula's feet, he threw himself backward and rolled off the hundred and ninety-nine steps. During the long fall, he felt the bones of his broken body breaking one after the other, but he did not feel pain. Dracula's death would have marked the advent of a new world order, even if it would not have guided her. While exhaling the fatal breath, his last thought was that the countess Elizabeth Bàthory, despised, abused, debased, terrified, had died paving the way to the destruction of the world: an epitaph as appropriate for a creature to whom God had turned his back .
Quincey saw the countess fall, leaving Dracula alone, with the knife still planted in her chest. A few more moments and the sun's rays would have illuminated him directly." (ENGLISH)
for obvious reasons I will not post this fight in both languages!
