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He had lost. He couldn’t get the revenge he wanted to get for his family. For his comrades. He was only half conscious as his body was carried to the throne room. He had joined the rebels to avenge his family. A family that Dracula had decimated. He had survived where the others hadn’t, and now it seemed his time was up too.
Battered and bruised, Grant Danasty glared up at the devil that had brought his torrents of monsters down upon Wallachia. His body bellowed in pain for every stretch of torn flesh and muscles burned in agony from overuse and torn ligaments. He could fight on no longer. He hadn’t even avenged his family. When he would die, would they forgive him? Would the gold-hearted thief, who had been away from his family during their massacre, move on to heaven? God only knew whether or not Grant deserved such redemption. He couldn’t hear the words the Devil incarnate spoke, knowing only that his painful death seemed to be pushed back.
Suddenly, his body felt like it was on fire. It seemed every bone of his body seemed to break and mend again, ligaments stretch and tear. What was happening to him? Was this what dying felt like? He screamed out in anguish, that was the only thing Grant could do. His body couldn’t move, at least not under his own control.
Finally, after what felt like hours of body tearing, the last thing escaping his mind was the faces of his family, his crew and the men… All people had died around him, and it showed now that he was completely incapable of protecting people, especially the ones he cared about the most.
A look of disgust came over the Tragic Prince. He had seen first-hand the terrors his father had sent upon Wallachia, but he had not seen this kind of punishment upon the hunters who had arrived to try and stop the tyranny his father was spreading. He was used to death and torture, not this sort of body mangling. He could do nothing but watch as this hunter was forcibly changed from his human form to some sort of goblin looking creature, with hunched back and green skin. It was repulsive, and the human heart of the half-vampire felt a bit of sympathy for the changed human. He wanted to speak up, wanted to do something to help the newly turned creature, but nothing came from his lips. He only watched as the creature was dragged off to who knew where, presumably to guard some area from future hunters.
It was a cruel twist, Alucard knew, that this man who tried to fight tooth and nail to destroy Count Dracula was now a monster of the castle. And any hunter who would make it to wherever this young man was taken would try and kill this man. A hunter killed by another hunter unwittingly. And only when the creature was killed would the hunter see the spell wear off and know that he had killed another human.
But the Dhampir would not be around to see that. He would hide away until a Hunter could reach him. Then he would test the Hunter, because no one knew what it would take to save his father, but him. Even if saving his father meant decimating him.