Overlord: Lord Dracula, Father of Darkness

well this is interesting

In a dark and dusty room sat an old man. The room was dark, only illuminated by scarce beams of light peeking through the cracks of curtains. letting in faint traces of neon light from street signs.

The room was decorated in a rustic fashion, wooden panels on the wall made to look like mahogany. An old leather couch pressed against the farthest wall from the man, the couch surrounded old paintings and photos. In another corner by a window sat a chair and night stand, the night stand solely occupied by a lone ashtray.

Finally, there was the old man sitting upon a grandiose leather chair, bordering a small throne in its stature and design. He sat before a fireplace, inside a warm orange fire crackled and snapped, like that of a witch's laugh.

The man sat there, in one hand, a cigarette, halfway completed with the ash gathering below it upon the ground. On the other hand was the marvel of technology known as the NNI, Neural Network Interface. A device that allowed you to play games in such immersion it could almost be mistaken for reality.

The old man's face was a portrait of scars and wrinkles, so densely packed that you couldn't tell them apart. His hair was a dull grey, while full, it was unkempt, the only show of effort or care was a lazy sweep back. On his face was a small beard, now disheveled and unkempt, yet it still showed small signs of past elegance and nobility.

In his chair, the old man sat, his posture did not portray power, command respect, or display a form of nobility. No, his posture unveiled a supernatural level of exhaustion, levels expected of an old man on his deathbed.

"So the day has finally arrived, has it not my dear..."

The voice was deep, and baritone, the tone rough and coarse like gravel and sand. It held an underlying note of power, expected of those who have faced death and emerged victorious. Yet for all the power that note portrayed, it paled in comparison to the ocean despair and bitterness his words held.

"So be it, but I shall meet this end with dignity to the very last second. After all, the children will be there, and we need to present ourselves accordingly..."

The old man, after his lamentations, steeled his resolve and donned the strange headset.

"Let us meet our end with dignity..."

And then there was darkness...

Yggdrasil online...

The world's largest mmo to ever exist and the first to enter the worl of full dive. The game sported an unrivaled level of player freedom and a vast world full of unknown secrets yet to be discovered by players.

Despite the player freedom and vast undiscovered content, the game slowly began to stagnate. The player base slowly lost interest in the world and left.

That brings us to the present day...

A pair of blood red eyes upon a handsome angular face open. The face was gaunt and pale cheeks slightly hollow. Upon his face was a long goatee of pitch black hair, slick, and well groomed. His hair was shoulder-length and slicked back, well combed and neat, from the sides long pointed ears poked out.

"Hmm, once again, I'm home..."

As he spoke two long pearly, white fangs revealed themselves to the world.

The man sat upon an obsidian throne, the back of said throne made of Sharp black spires pointing to the heavens above. The leather chair before paled in comparison to the majesty of this black throne.

The room the man on his throne now resides in was grandiose in scale at least a dozen floors high. The marble pillars that hold the ceiling were emblazoned with intricate golden designs, showing pictures of battles of impossible scales.