The streetlights flickered in his small neighborhood, casting pale shadows across the cracked sidewalks. Rain fell in soft sheets, bouncing off the asphalt and drumming against the roof of his apartment. Inside, a boy sat at his desk, hunched over a tattered notebook, pencils scattered around him. His white hair hung in his eyes, slightly damp from the window left open.
He drew slowly, meticulously, every line a reflection of the world he wished he could live in. The pages were filled with castles, monsters, and heroes with impossible power. Adrian's favorite character—Alucard—moved fluidly in his imagination, his elegance unmatched, his sword slicing through shadows that writhed like living darkness.
In Adrian's mind, he was unstoppable. He could summon shadows with a flick of his wrist, bending the darkness to his will. His enemies trembled before him: hulking demons, beasts taller than towers, and creatures no human eye could survive seeing. Rain poured around him as he stood atop the highest tower of a crumbling castle, his hair like silver fire in the storm. Lightning arced across the sky, illuminating his pale face, his red eyes glinting with cold purpose.
He could feel the power thrumming in his veins, the thrill of combat, the satisfaction of victory. The wind carried the screams of the defeated, yet he felt no malice—only purpose. In this world, he mattered. Here, he was feared, revered, unstoppable.
And yet… he wasn't really here.
The pencil scratched across the page, anchoring him to reality. The castle, the shadows, the perfect control over life and death—all of it faded into the gray walls of his apartment. His classmates, noisy and careless, would never understand the battles he fought in his mind. The notebook was a bridge to another world, one where he was no longer the pale, invisible boy they ignored.
Adrian's heart sank. In reality, he was nothing. Weak. Forgotten. The one everyone called "ghost." The one who lived in the background, unnoticed and unremarkable.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the unfinished drawing. In his mind, Alucard never stumbled. In reality, Adrian tripped over his own feet, mumbled in class, and watched others grow stronger while he stayed invisible.
The rain had grown heavier by the time he left his apartment. The streetlights reflected in puddles, stretching like mirrors across the wet asphalt. His sketchbook clutched under one arm, he wandered through the familiar streets, imagining the city as a battleground. He pictured Alucard moving with inhuman grace, shadows twisting around him like loyal soldiers. Every alley became a potential battlefield, every shadow a minion waiting for his command.
Yet the illusion was fragile. The cold reality of the world pressed down on him. His body was weak, fragile, too human. He had trained himself in imaginary combat for years, but none of it mattered here. None of it could save him from the life he led.
A flash of memory crossed his mind: the playground, the bullies, the laughter aimed at him. "Ghost!" they had shouted, chasing him through the rain-soaked asphalt. He had tried to disappear, tried to be invisible, but it never worked. In his world, strength mattered. Power mattered. And Adrian had neither.
He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, focusing instead on Alucard's perfect form in his mind. He had to believe he could be strong. He had to imagine it, because in this life, strength was a dream too far.
Then it happened.
He didn't see the car at first. One moment he was thinking about shadows, the next moment the world lit up with blinding headlights. Tires squealed on wet asphalt. His heart slammed against his ribs. Panic washed over him.
A child froze on the curb, unaware of the danger. Instinct took over. Without thinking, Adrian lunged forward, pushing the child out of harm's way.
Metal met flesh. Pain tore through him, sharp and consuming. The world spun violently. Rain stung his eyes. Screams filled his ears. Time slowed, bending around him like a cruel mirror. And then… nothing.
Darkness. Pure, endless darkness. It pressed down on him, cold and suffocating. He felt his body dissolve into nothingness, his mind stretching and twisting. Regret surged through him—every dream unfulfilled, every moment wasted, every chance to be someone more.
I wasn't brave. I wasn't strong. I wasn't enough.
A voice, calm yet powerful, cut through the void. It was everywhere and nowhere, its tone impossible to ignore.
"A life wasted. A soul adrift. What do you wish for, child?"
Adrian trembled, but he did not hesitate. His voice was small, trembling, but resolute.
"Alucard… I want to be him. I want to live as him. I want strength. I want to fight. I want to matter."
The darkness pulsed, folding in on itself. Light and shadow collided around him, reshaping him. His body stretched, tingled, and reformed. Every bone, every muscle, every cell felt new, strange, alive. Yet his body remained that of a child—small, fragile, weak.
"Are you certain?" the voice asked.
"I'm certain," he said, teeth gritted. "I want this."
Light exploded around him, scattering like stars across the void. He smelled everything at once: rain, blood, stone, fire. He felt his senses sharpen, instincts awakening, awareness exploding. And then he opened his eyes.
He was no longer in his world. No longer in the accident. No longer in the void.
He was in an alley, dark and narrow. Rain poured down, soaking him instantly. Fog clung to the walls, curling like living fingers. Shadows moved unnaturally, whispering around him. The air hummed with the raw scent of magic, of life far more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
Alucard—no, Adrian—looked at a puddle near his feet. His reflection stared back: pale skin, long white hair, red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His chest pulsed with a strange warmth beneath his fingers. He was weak. Fragile. Yet alive.
"This… is really happening," he whispered, a smirk forming despite the fear in his chest. "I'm Alucard. I'm… reborn."
A bat darted across the alley, vanishing into the fog. He tried to raise his hand, to summon a sword or turn into mist, but only a small puff escaped, barely forming before fading. Weak. Fragile. He was nothing like the immortal warrior in his mind.
Somewhere in the distance, a human presence stirred. A figure in a long trench coat, cigarette glowing in the mist, eyes sharp and calculating.
"Bloody hell… a vampire child," the man muttered. "Just what I needed."
Alucard's first thought: This world smells alive.
The streets of London stretched endlessly, dark and twisted. Fog curled around ancient buildings. Somewhere in the shadows, monsters stirred. Somewhere else, humans wielded strange power, magic he didn't yet understand.
He was weak. He was small. He was just a child.
But he had been given a spark. A chance.
And one day… he would grow strong.
He was reborn.
He was Alucard
Adrian's mind raced. Even in this weak, fragile body, he could feel the potential. Every instinct screamed that this world was alive, brimming with danger and opportunity. The shadows whispered, enticing him to test his abilities, to move beyond the limits of this child's frame.
He took a cautious step, water splashing around his small boots. The alley seemed to stretch and twist as if alive. Each droplet of rain felt heavier, charged with unseen energy. His senses picked up details he had never noticed: the faint hum of magical wards, the subtle shifts of creatures lurking in darkness, the scent of life mingled with decay.
The figure in the trench coat had not moved. He watched silently, as if measuring Alucard's first breath in this world.
"You'll need guidance," the man said finally. "And a lesson in survival. The city doesn't forgive weakness."
Alucard tilted his head. Guidance? Survival? He had spent years imagining himself unbeatable. Now he realized that imagination would only carry him so far. Yet something in his heart leapt. A challenge. A world to conquer. And one day, he would be more than a child.
The rain fell harder, washing the streets in silver, reflecting the glow of distant lamps. Alucard clenched his tiny fists. Every drop of rain, every shadow, every strange, dangerous scent in the air felt like a promise.
And the shadows waited for him to rise.