Chapter 91 - 89: Aftermath And Commitment

Chapter 91: Chapter 89: Aftermath And Commitment

A woman rushed out of the cabin, her heart light and her smile bright, expecting to see her grandfather.

But instead, her gaze fell upon three battered and bloodied figures lying where he should have been as her steps faltered, the joy that had once lit her scarred face slowly fading.

"Who are you?" The girl asked, the smile, once so full of life, wore down into a flat, neutral expression, her features hardening as she absorbed the scene before her.

There was no need to ask where Abraham was as his absence, paired with the broken bodies strewn across the dirt, spoke volumes.

The weight of their arrival hit her like a wave, the implications settling in yet it was hard to truly register.

For twenty years, the world believed Abraham was the last of the Van Helsing bloodline, a symbol of a forgotten legacy.

But in a final act of defiance, he chose to give one last middle finger to fate by hiding away the true last Van Helsing, his granddaughter, Rachael.

Rachael Van Helsing, daughter of Abraham's lost son, had managed to escape the tragic fate that befell her family through a twist of chance.

While the world thought the Van Helsing line had been snuffed out, she had been training in secret under her grandfather's watchful eye.

Now twenty-six, Rachael was a hardened and mature young woman, the weight of her family's history resting heavily on her shoulders.

A deep scar ran from her forehead down to her cheek, a constant, bitter reminder of the night her family was massacred.

It was that scar, and the pain it carried, that had driven her to become a warrior, to uphold the legacy that so many had tried to bury.

Abraham had taught her everything: how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive, and how to kill vampires.

And now, as she stood before the broken bodies of those who had come in place of the man who raised her, Rachael felt the gravity of her role.

"W-We were saved by your grandfather-URGH!" Chores attempted to rise, lifting his large hand as if to explain himself, but Rachael was quicker.

Before he could utter a word, a sharp bolt whizzed through the air, impaling his shoulder with a sickening thud.

The force of the impact knocked him back as pain surged through his body, his words dying in his throat.

Rachael had materialized another bolt in her hand almost instantly, her eyes fierce with determination.

She wasted no time, charging toward him with deadly precision, her movements fluid and practiced from years of hidden training.

Chores glanced down at his side, seeing Ricky and Barko both unconscious, their injuries leaving him as the only one able to protect them.

Grimacing, he yanked the bolt from his shoulder with a pained grunt, blood oozing from the wound.

Bracing himself, he prepared for Rachael's next attack and she was fast, too fast for him to waste any time.

When she charged, he swung at her with all his might, expecting her to dodge. But instead, Rachael met his attack head-on and she didn't flinch or back down.

As his fist connected with her arm, Chores watched in disbelief as it began to transform.

Fur sprouted from her skin, thick and dark, as her arm morphed into something otherworldly. Claws extended from her fingers, razor-sharp wolf claws, and her eyes gleamed with a wild ferocity.

*BAM*

Rachael's beast-like hand caught the giant's hand but instead of releasing it, her claws squeezed down, keeping him in place.

Chores barely had time to register the change before Rachael made her move.

With fast precision and overwhelming strength, she grabbed his forehead, yanking his fist forward just as her leg shot out and as her foot swept beneath him, hooking his legs out from under him in one fluid motion.

*BAM*

Chores toppled backward, the air knocked from his lungs as his massive body slammed into the ground.

Summersalting forward, Chores fell on his back and winced only to open his eyes to a crossbow bolt placed at his face.

"Who are you?" Rachael's eyes burned with murderous intent as she pulled out her crossbow, the tip aimed directly at Chores' chest.

She hovered over him, her movements deliberate and steady and Chores wanted to scream out in frustration, to answer all of her demanded answers, but he bit down on the urge, forcing himself to stay calm under her gaze.

"Friends of your grandfather-"

*SPLAT*

"AHH!" Chores let out a deep, guttural grunt of pain as the bolt sank into his other shoulder, the sharp tip biting into muscle.

"First you say my grandfather helped you, lie. My grandfather doesn't help anyone." Rachael sneered, her tone dripping with menace as if unable to believe the fact.

"Second, you say your friends with my grandfather, lie. He doesn't have any." Rachael's voice was icy, her gaze narrowing while her finger hovered closer to the trigger, eyes squinting with suspicion, reading every flinch, every drop of sweat that formed on Chores' brow.

"Now you get one more try, who are you?" Rachael's tone was cold, dripping with truth, and it only made Chores gulp, his breath shaking under the weight of her words.

"It will take a while-"

"I have nothing but time." Rachael interrupted him, gesturing to the cold, mountainous scenery, prompting Chores to nod in understanding.

"It all started when he went to New York-"

3 days later,

'Real power doesn't come to those who are born the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest.' The words of Dracula echoed in Ricky's subconscious as his eyes rolled under his eyelids manically.

'No, it comes to those willing to do anything to achieve it.'

*GASP*

Ricky's eyes flew open, his mind convinced he was on the brink of death as he reached out and felt the cool touch of the ebony blade.

*THUD*

His back slammed against the wall, clutching the ebony blade with a murderous intent to survive gleaming in his eyes, only to register the emptiness of the log cabin around him.

"Argh!" Ricky grunted, his body trembling as the remnants of Dracula's power still lingered, leaving wounds that even his healing factor had yet to fully mend.

"Calm yourself Ricky, you have reached a safe place." Alexander spoke from the side as Ricky slumped against the wall, clutching his body in a desperate attempt to stave off the pain.

But instead of the mighty visage of Alexander, the warrior who always spoke of glory and honor, Ricky found himself looking open a hamster gazing aimlessly at the window.

"W-Wait, where's Henry-" Ricky struggled to stand, but his body betrayed him, collapsing back onto the bed.

His head jerked to the side, where he caught a glimpse of Alexander, whose little head was bowed low.

"Ricky." Alexander's soft tone echoed in Ricky's ears, but he tuned him out, his focus shifting to the system panel that materialized before him.

His gaze landed on the familiar section, frantically searching as he combed through Chester's and Alexander's skills, but when he reached the spot where Henry's information should be, it was blank.

A pit of dread settled in his stomach as the realization hit him since Henry, his loyal companion, was truly gone.

There was no denial, no hateful words but only the weight of despair as Ricky's head fell lifelessly against the ceiling.

*Sniff*

"Ah, I see that rain is afoot." Alexander sniffled, gazing up at the stormy clouds that hung heavy in the sky, yet refused to shed their tears.

Meanwhile, Ricky simply covered his eyes, shielding himself from the world and the pain that loomed just beyond his lashes.

"Yeah, it seems so." Ricky gnashed his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut once more as he willed himself back into a slumber, seeking refuge from the harsh reality that threatened to swallow him whole.

3 hours later,

Groggily opening his eyes, Ricky's blurry vision slowly focused on the wooden beams of a log cabin ceiling as he took a deep breath, feeling slightly improved, and turned to the side.

There, he found Rachael sitting beside him, her expression fixed in a deadpan glare that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer." Ricky let out a hollow chuckle, only to wince as he attempted to sit up; his injuries still hadn't fully healed.

Rachael remained unmoving, her gaze unwavering as she recalled the stories absorbed from Chores.

Despite hearing everything, including the last-ditch effort of Abraham sacrificing himself to save Ricky, her expression remained stoic, masking a whirlwind of emotions just beneath the surface since there was only one thing that lingered within her.

She couldn't believe it.

Although Rachael deeply loves and cherishes her grandfather, she isn't naive about his nature. Abraham, despite his moments of tenderness, is one of the most selfish people this world had ever known.

After all the years she spent by his side, Rachael struggles to envision her grandfather doing anything that wouldn't ultimately serve his own interests.

His sacrifice, while noble in the moment, feels tainted by the lingering doubt that it was also about his need for redemption, rather than purely for her sake or Ricky's.

So when Rachael looks at Ricky, a conflicted knot tightens in her stomach.

She understood that saving his life had to undoubtedly benefit Abraham, but she just couldn't quite grasp how it would serve him.

As Rachael surveyed Ricky, she realized just how vulnerable truly was and one insurmountable fact.

He is immensely weaker than her in every conceivable way.

Even with the ebony blade resting by his side, its presence is insufficient to bridge the vast gap between them.

The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air as she grappled with her grandfather's motives and the fragility of the life that now hangs in the balance.

"What, see something you like?" Ricky turned his gaze back to Rachael, still caught in her unwavering stare.

He fought to drown his anger and sadness, slipping into a haze of desire that felt almost unconscious.

"No, all I see is a worthless loser." Rachael remarked, her gaze sweeping up and down the broken man before her, her words laced without a hint of sincerity.

"When is it going to be enough? When is everything I've done finally going to matter? Or am I just wasting my goddamn time trying to be better when it's easier to accept that I'll always be worse?" Ricky's voice rose, tinged with a mix of despair and anger.

He began to laugh, a jagged sound that gritted his teeth together, but that lighthearted chuckle quickly morphed into something darker, more hateful, echoing the turmoil that raged within him.

"GOD DAMMIT!" Ricky shouted, slamming his fist into a nearby tree, the impact sending shockwaves of pain up his arm.

Anger surged within him, relentless and consuming and in a frenzied desperation, he began to hit his head against the rough bark, over and over again, as if he could knock the torment out of his mind.

"It will never be enough."

Those words echoed from Rachael as she stood by his side, her steady gaze piercing through the chaos surrounding him.

Ricky then paused, momentarily arrested by the intensity of her expression while slowly turning towards her as blood trickled down his face.

"My grandfather dedicated everything to killing Dracula and lost it all, including his life." Rachael accepted the painful truth that Abraham was never coming back, moving on in the way a true Van Helsing would.

"But you don't really lose, truly lose, until your last breath leaves you, before you can fulfill whatever purpose led you to the brink of death." Rachael took a step forward, her gaze unwavering as she locked onto his green eyes, searching for the spark of hope that still flickered within him.

"Do you think putting your life on the line guarantees that you will win?" Rachael asked, her tone earnest, as if she truly sought an answer.

"Do you believe that just because you're strong, that makes you strong enough?" Rachael pressed on, wondering if Ricky understood the weight of her questions.

"My grandfather loathed strength; he believed that living meant you'd never truly win, but being strong only meant you were never strong enough." Rachael said, not waiting for Ricky's response as she recounted Abraham's disdain for power.

"At the end of the day, Ricky, your choices are solely in your hands." Rachael halted in front of him, meeting his gaze with unwavering intensity, even as he frowned in contemplation.

"Not me, not Dracula, and not anyone else," Rachael shook her head, emphasizing that the decision lay solely with Ricky as she pointed at him, her gaze unwavering.

"What is it that you truly want?" Rachael's words seemed to back him into a corner, and Ricky could only laugh in response, the sound tinged with bitterness.

*Sigh*

But no reply came as Ricky stood there, absorbing her words as he simply shook his head with a stupid smile, a mix of confusion and resignation playing across his features.

"Listen, you're honestly better off without me. Everything I've done seems to amount to nothing. I don't even have a home anymore cause I was kicked out of it, and through all of that I try to shrug it off, but let me ask you something." Ricky pointed at the quiet Rachael, who waited patiently for him to continue.

"Why should I even f*cking care?" Ricky asked genuinely, his voice laced with frustration as he surveyed the situation before him, feeling it all to be utterly meaningless.

"Why should I put my life on the line just because one of your asshole ancestors made a deal with God to kill Dracula?" Ricky laughed in her face, seemingly mocking her situation but Rachale merely swallowed it.

"You know, you're a lot like my grandfather." Rachael replied, crossing her arms without skipping a beat as Ricky sighed, irritated by her deliberate evasion of his question.

"But at least my grandfather fought for something," Rachael said, a challenging glint in her eyes and Ricky picked up on her provocation immediately, his annoyance flaring.

"What do you even fight for Ricky Luciano-"

"Myself!" Ricky shouted defiantly, but Rachael shook her head, recognizing the contradiction in his words.

"How can you truly fight for yourself when all you seem to do is run away?" Rachael's question pierced through his defenses, igniting something deep within him.

"I AM NOT RUNNING AWAY, OKAY?!" Ricky yelled, but the desperation in his voice hinted at his struggle to convince not just her, but himself as well.

Rachael remained unconvinced, her steady gaze challenging him to confront the truth he was trying to avoid.

"How is what you're about to do not running away? How is abandoning all of this fighting for yourself?" Rachael's words struck Ricky to his core, leaving him momentarily speechless as he wanted to retort, to defend his choice, but the words died in his throat.

"Anyways, it doesn't matter, because after what Chores told me, Dracula is going to chase you down to the ends of the earth." Rachael's revelation hung in the air, but Ricky scoffed, dismissing it as pure nonsense.

The thought of being hunted by a monster felt surreal, but deep down, he could feel the truth of her words pressing against the walls he had built around himself.

"From what he said, Dracula's core has splintered. If he can't repair it, he won't be able to enact his master plan of forming a monster kingdom," Rachael revealed, her voice steady but laced with urgency. She noticed the distant sound of screams coming from the cabin but assumed it was just the usual chaos of whatever vampire Abraham had killed before coming through the portal.

"That's why he hunted my grandfather in the first place. He'll chase you to the ends of the earth to retrieve that core from your chest." Rachael pointed at Ricky's heart, and her expression softened in surprise as she realized the gravity of her words.

The density of the magic that Ricky wielded due to his emotions was even purer than her own, a realization that surprised Rachael and deepened her understanding of why Dracula coveted it so desperately.

It was as if Ricky's very essence resonated with a raw, untamed power that called to the vampire, an allure that went beyond mere strength.

This clarity made her acutely aware in a mere instant at why her grandfather would do such a selfless sacrifice.

"You have this gift yet you refused to use it and instead run away again-"

"Goddammit, I'm not running away! I—" Ricky attempted to cut her off, but then the weight of his words hit him and in that moment of clarity, he finally realized the truth behind his own denial.

He was running away again.

Ricky's breath hitched as he stared into Rachael's eyes, the weight of his realization settling heavily on his chest.

The words he had just uttered echoed in his mind, and he felt the walls he had built around himself begin to crumble.

He was doing the exact thing he had vowed he would never do again, turning his back and running away.

With each passing second, the truth loomed larger: if he chose to walk away now, it wouldn't just be a retreat; it would obliterate all the progress he had fought so hard to achieve.

The strides he'd made in his journey toward change, the nights spent grappling with his demons and pushing past his self-destructive tendencies, would mean nothing.

It would all dissolve into dust, a wasted effort lost to the void of his cowardice.

A frown creased his brow, and a deep ache settled in his gut since he felt small, dwarfed by the monumental presence of Dracula, a being whose very existence radiated with an unyielding power that threatened to consume him.

The thought of facing that towering monolith of strength filled him with dread and he didn't want to fight.

The mere idea of standing against Dracula, of confronting the darkness that had wreaked havoc in his life, felt insurmountable.

Yet, deep down, he knew that walking away wasn't an option and even if he could, Dracula wouldn't let him escape; the vampire would hunt him down relentlessly, an insatiable predator driven by a desire to reclaim what Ricky had inadvertently taken from him.

Inescapably, the reality set in: he would be forced to confront his fears, forced to face the monster that threatened to destroy everything he held dear or sink back into the coward that had haunted his being.

In life, the journey of truly bettering oneself is rarely straightforward.

It's not a matter of simply climbing a mountain and standing triumphant at the peak, gazing up at the sky, basking in the glory of accomplishment.

No, reaching that pinnacle often feels hollow, as if the very essence of achievement has evaporated into the ether, since as you reach the top, now you are confronted with the sky.

Change is not a fluid process; it doesn't come wrapped in neat packages or arrive like a gentle breeze.

It's a slow, painful march filled with jagged edges and unforeseen obstacles and each step forward is often countered by two steps back, a relentless struggle and flow that tests even the strongest of wills.

Right now, Ricky found himself at an excruciating low, grappling with the raw wounds of defeat and despair.

He felt as if he had reached a chasm, the abyss of his own making, staring into its depths with a heart heavy with doubt.

Yet, in the darkest corners of despair, a flicker of light remained, an ember of determination waiting to be ignited.

Every journey presents a pivotal moment, a crossroads where a person must confront their own choices.

Ricky had finally stood at that intersection, the path before him shrouded in uncertainty.

He had finally ushered into the journey of betterment, wanting to be the best man for those around him but now those crossroads loomed over him.

Ricky could feel that gravitational pull of the past, whispering sweetly, coaxing him to turn back, to succumb to the familiar shadows that had haunted him for so long.

But deep within, a stubborn spark refused to be extinguished, the very same spark that had brought him towards this road in the first place.

He thought of Danielle, then of his lovers, and finally he thought of the father who always had his back.

It urged him to look forward, to embrace the unknown and the possibility of transformation.

Ricky could either choose to retreat into the comfort of complacency, letting fear dictate his fate, or he could summon the strength to completely confront the challenges ahead, daring to believe that a brighter future was still within reach.

"Fine." Ricky let out a deep breath, feeling the weight of his decision settle upon him.

However for all the despair he had faced, the scars of his journey were not just marks of failure; they were badges of survival.

Anyone could look upon Ricky and merely laugh, mocking the so-called choices he made and the burdens he carried.

They'd point fingers and scoff, confident that if given even a fraction of the opportunities he had, they would excel far beyond his grasp.

And maybe that was true.

Yet, for the filthy, idiotic, hypocritical alcoholic degenerate that most knew as Ricky Luciano, he had decided that he wasn't going to look back at what he used to be, but what he wanted for himself.

"How am I going to kill Dracula when I can't even take down that loser Baron Blood?" Ricky asked, genuine frustration lacing his voice. To his surprise, Rachael smiled at his words, the corners of her mouth lifting in an unexpected way.

"Ricky, you have all the tools you need, especially that core," she replied, her tone shifting to one of encouragement.

"You possess such pure magic that even I can't help but compliment it. On top of that, you're a warlock as well." Rachacel continued, propping him up as Ricky slicked his hair back.

"Even your sensitivity is far greater than mine; the only problem is that you're an idiot." Rachael delivered this blow like a metaphorical sledgehammer, forcing him back down to reality.

"You don't seem to use your abilities to their fullest potential. From what I've heard, you merely scratch the surface, using them at face value and missing out on the skills that make you truly special." Rachael's words landed one after another, stripping Ricky bare before her.

"But if my grandfather was willing to instill his knowledge, then I'm going to figure it out and teach you how to harness that power so we can kill Dracula." Rachael resolved, extending her hand toward him.

Ricky gazed down at Rachael's outstretched hand, his mind swirling with all the aspirations he once held.

After a moment of contemplation, he sighed, a mix of resignation and determination swirling within him, and took her hand.

"Alright, what do I have to do?" Ricky asked, shaking it firmly and resolving himself to the relentless grind that was power.

"Isolate yourself here and hone yourself, until you're ready."

Author's Note: Wanted to make this Chapter to gear up for a timeskip since I'm not going to spend ten Chapters on Ricky's progess, just like three really long ones.