Locke moved like a phantom between the shattered shelves, his figure flickering in and out of sight as he threaded through the cramped interior of the store. The air was thick with dust and tension, every breath laced with the aftermath of destruction as wood splintered and metal screamed under stress. Behind him, something monstrous tore through the aisles, each step accompanied by the violent crash of collapsing fixtures.
In the next instant, Drake's grotesque form surged forward, his twisted, feral face stretched into something barely resembling human. With a single motion, he ripped an entire shelf from the ground and flung it aside like it was nothing, the debris smashing into the wall with a deafening impact. His crimson eyes burned with exhilaration, the thrill of battle coursing through him as his lips curled into a savage grin.
"Why are you running?" His voice came out as a low, guttural growl, thick with mockery and bloodlust. The sound didn't belong to anything human anymore. "Weren't you enjoying the fight just now?"
His claws dug into another metal frame, tearing it apart with brute force before he charged again, his massive body plowing through the wreckage. The distance between them vanished in an instant, his outstretched hands reaching for Locke with killing intent.
Before he could make contact, a blur cut across his path.
A whip-fast kick slammed into Drake's abdomen.
The impact rang out sharply, echoing through the ruined shop. Yet instead of being launched away, Drake only leaned back slightly, his body absorbing the force as if it were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. The recoil, however, transferred directly through Locke, forcing him backward as his footing slipped under the counterforce.
Locke's eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his usual calm. His muscles tensed as he steadied himself, recalculating in real time. "What the hell…?"
Something had shifted.
Ever since Drake transformed, the effectiveness of Locke's attacks had dropped drastically. It wasn't just durability—his opponent's entire physical structure had changed into something far more monstrous, something that defied the limits Locke had already accounted for.
Drake straightened slowly, satisfaction twisting across his distorted features as he drank in Locke's reaction. The shock reflected in Locke's eyes mirrored what Drake himself had once felt when he first awakened this power.
"I…" His voice rose, swelling with pride and madness, every word dripping with conviction. "Am the god of vampires!"
With that roar, his speed surged again.
He exploded forward, his fists and legs tearing through everything in his path. Shelves shattered under the force, walls cracked, and debris filled the air as he drove Locke backward step by step. Under the relentless assault, Locke had no choice but to raise his arms, crossing them tightly in front of his chest as a punch thick as a tree trunk slammed into him.
The impact sent him crashing into the wall.
Pain flared across his back and arms, a deep, burning pressure that refused to dissipate. Locke exhaled sharply, his eyes tightening as he adapted to the new tempo of the fight. Without hesitation, he pushed off the wall, his body snapping forward into motion once again.
He slipped past Drake's charge with precise footwork, twisting mid-air before driving a heavy punch downward.
Boom!
The strike crashed into Drake's skull, forcing the towering figure down to one knee. Locke landed cleanly, his momentum carrying through as he followed up with a brutal kick that sent Drake skidding across the debris-strewn floor.
For a brief moment, the advantage was his.
Locke moved in immediately to press it.
—and was instantly blasted backward.
His body was hurled through the air by a counterattack so fast it barely registered. He slammed into the ground, breath catching as his eyes snapped back toward Drake, who stepped out of the wreckage with a mocking smile stretching across his monstrous face.
Locke's expression darkened.
Even that strike hadn't done much.
Drake's reaction speed, his durability—it had all leapt to a level that defied expectation. That last blow should have kept him down longer, should have created an opening to finish this.
Instead, it barely slowed him.
Locke exhaled slowly, then let a crooked grin tug at his lips, his voice cutting through the chaos with sharp mockery. "The ancestor of vampires?" His gaze locked onto Drake, unflinching. "You look more like a damn turtle to me."
Drake's eyes flared instantly, rage igniting beneath the surface.
"Turtle?" His voice dropped, thick with fury, each word grinding out through clenched teeth. "You'll pay for that, you fake!"
The next moment, they collided again.
Blow after blow echoed through the shattered store as their figures flashed between broken shelves and scattered debris. Every impact sent shockwaves rippling through the structure, goods flying apart under the sheer force of their exchange. The fight intensified with every passing second, but beneath it all, Locke could feel it—the slow accumulation of damage building across his body.
Pain spread through his limbs, steady and undeniable.
Meanwhile, Drake showed no signs of slowing.
His expression remained wild, almost ecstatic, as if the battle itself fed him. Each strike came harder, faster, more relentless than the last. For the first time since gaining his power, Locke felt the possibility clearly.
He might not win this.
Drake took two of Locke's punches head-on, barely flinching, before driving a brutal straight punch into Locke's abdomen. The impact was devastating, folding his body slightly around the blow.
Air and blood burst from Locke's mouth at the same time.
His body was launched backward, crashing through the storefront and skidding across the street outside. He lay there for a moment, vision spinning faintly as the world tilted around him. At a distance, onlookers had gathered, their faces pale with shock, while nearby, the female clerk he had knocked out earlier lay crumpled on the ground.
His thoughts shifted rapidly.
In the next instant, a translucent interface flickered into existence before his eyes, its presence sharp and familiar. His gaze locked onto one of the options—a long sword gleaming with a cold, silver light, its surface reflecting a lethal promise.
Just as his hand began to move—
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Locke's eyes flicked upward, catching sight of Drake charging out of the store toward him. The moment stretched thin, calculations running silently through his mind as he weighed the variables.
Then he moved.
His body blurred into afterimages, vanishing down the street in an instant. Panic rippled through the crowd as people scattered, their screams echoing behind him.
Drake roared.
The sound tore through the air, sending bystanders fleeing in terror. His crimson eyes locked onto the direction Locke had disappeared, but after a brief pause, he didn't pursue.
Instead, the wail of sirens grew louder.
Police vehicles screeched to a stop around him, one after another, forming a perimeter in seconds. Heavily armed officers stepped out, weapons raised, their movements coordinated and precise as they surrounded the towering figure. One man, clearly in command, approached cautiously, his voice tight with controlled tension.
"Lord Blood God," he said, forcing respect into his tone despite the danger. "Why expose your true form like this?"
The answer came without warning.
A single strike.
The officer's body was sent flying backward, slamming into a patrol car hard enough to dent the metal. Around them, the remaining officers immediately raised their weapons, aiming directly at Drake, but none of them fired.
Drake's gaze swept across them slowly.
He could feel it.
Every single one of them was a vampire.
The man who had been struck struggled to his feet, forcing his anger down as he spoke again, his tone far more careful now. "Ancestor… times have changed. We can't move openly anymore. If humans discover us, it could bring disaster to all of us."
Drake stared at him for a long moment.
Then his form began to shift.
The grotesque features receded, his massive body shrinking back into something closer to human. The tension in the air eased slightly as the transformation completed, though the unease never fully disappeared.
Behind a pair of sunglasses, the officer's eyes remained cold.
Danika… can't even control this thing properly. He thinks being the ancestor makes him untouchable, but in the end, he's nothing more than a tool for our evolution.
The thought stayed buried behind a neutral expression as he made a subtle gesture.
Under the escort of the vampire-controlled SWAT team, Drake left the scene.
Elsewhere, inside a rundown hotel, Locke stood before a cracked mirror, slowly wiping the blood from his body. Some of it was his—dark, fresh, still tacky against his skin—while the rest belonged to Drake, smeared across him from the fight.
"You're back?"
A woman's voice drifted lazily through the room, cutting through the quiet.
Locke didn't look up immediately. He continued cleaning himself, methodical and unbothered, as if the fight had been nothing more than routine. The middle-aged woman leaned against the doorway, watching him with a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Well?" she asked, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. "Find your family yet?"
Locke let out a small scoff, not even bothering to respond as he turned and headed for the stairs. His silence spoke louder than any answer.
The woman clicked her tongue softly, her gaze lingering on his retreating figure.
"Tch… thinks he's so handsome," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Like he could ever compare to the guys people actually care about."
She swayed back toward the bar, slipping easily into her routine as if nothing unusual had happened.
At the same time, chaos erupted inside a police station across the city.
Blade had been arrested—
—and then rescued.
The chief was furious.
His voice echoed through the halls as he tore into his subordinates, his face flushed with anger and frustration. Officers stood rigidly at attention, none daring to speak as he vented, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate.
"Sir, the bodies have been processed," one officer said cautiously, stepping forward despite the risk.
The chief paused, his expression shifting slightly as he gave a curt nod. He cast one last sharp glare across the room before turning and heading toward his office.
Inside, he stopped.
Someone was already there.
A woman sat calmly behind his desk, her posture relaxed, her presence completely at odds with the chaos outside. The chief's anger faded instantly, replaced by something closer to respect as he approached her.
"There's a new threat," she said before he could speak, her voice steady and controlled. "And it's more dangerous than Blade."
Danika's eyes locked onto him.
"Show me."
The chief moved quickly, handing over a photograph without hesitation. She took it, her gaze dropping to the image as she studied the figure captured within. For a brief moment, surprise flickered across her eyes.
"European…" she murmured quietly.
Her gaze sharpened.
"This one… is he more dangerous to your kind than the Daywalker?"
....
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