The two of them returned to the dock and stepped into the factory, their pace steady but alert. The moment they crossed the threshold, the sight that greeted them made Albert's expression collapse instantly. Blood was smeared across the ground in thick, chaotic streaks, the metallic scent hanging heavy in the air as if the violence had only just ended.
Without a word, Albert rushed forward, her steps turning frantic as she sprinted toward the laboratory.
What she saw inside made her stop dead.
Her face drained of color as her knees buckled, and she dropped to the ground, her body trembling uncontrollably. The room was a massacre, destruction carved into every surface, and the silence that followed only made it worse.
Blade stepped in behind her, his gaze sweeping across the scene with cold precision.
It stopped on the body.
A corpse, drenched in blood, hung limply from a metal rack, its lifeless form twisted in a way that made it impossible to mistake what had happened. The sight ignited something fierce in Blade's eyes, a surge of anger so sharp it felt almost physical.
Boom!
His fist slammed into a nearby glass panel, shattering it instantly. The crash echoed through the ruined lab, but neither of them moved as the weight of the moment settled.
Then came footsteps.
Slow. Steady. Approaching.
Albert's head snapped up, her instincts flaring as she turned toward the sound. The moment she saw the figures emerging from the shadows, her breath caught, and then she rushed forward without hesitation.
"I thought you were all dead!"
Her voice broke as she threw her arms around the geneticist, tears already forming in her eyes. The woman she held wore sunglasses, her expression hidden, but her presence alone was enough to pull Albert back from the edge.
"Haha, you've got this guy to thank for that!"
Hannibal's voice rang out as he jumped forward, unable to contain himself as usual. His grin was wide, his tone loud, completely at odds with the devastation around them.
Blade's eyes shifted past them, locking onto the figure walking calmly from behind the group.
"Long time no see, Blade."
Locke stepped forward, dressed in a black trench coat and a Western-style hat, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips. His presence cut through the tension like a blade, relaxed and unbothered despite everything that had just happened.
"Who are you?"
Albert's gaze snapped toward him, confusion and suspicion filling her eyes as she instinctively shifted her stance.
"Hello," Locke said easily. "Name's Locke. I'm… a special kind of vampire ancestor."
"Ancestor?"
Albert's eyes narrowed instantly. In a single motion, she pulled the geneticist behind her, her body positioning itself as a shield.
The geneticist, however, placed a hand on her shoulder, calming her.
"Locke," she said, her tone measured, "why do you call yourself a vampire ancestor?"
Hannibal, never one to respect personal space, immediately threw an arm around Locke's neck in an attempt to pull him closer. The motion stopped halfway.
No matter how much force he used, Locke didn't move an inch.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Hannibal's face as he slowly withdrew his arm, pretending like nothing had happened.
"Have you ever seen someone like me?" Locke asked casually.
"Uh… not really," Hannibal admitted.
As the conversation continued, introductions smoothed out the initial tension. Locke carefully avoided revealing anything about his origins beyond what was necessary, and when the topic of his vampire nature came up, he deflected it with ease.
What would they even do if I showed them white blood?
The thought crossed his mind briefly, and he almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Standing in front of a group of vampire hunters and openly calling himself a vampire—he might be the only one reckless enough to do that.
"So your target is also the vampire ancestor," Albert said, her eyes fixed on him.
She had already heard everything from the geneticist. Locke had fought the Blood God head-on, buying enough time for them to escape. The corpse hanging in the lab had been one of their own, someone Locke simply hadn't had time to save.
Hannibal, on the other hand, looked almost thrilled.
A final battle with the vampires was coming, and for him, it meant revenge.
…
Deep within an underground factory, Danika sat at the head of a long table, her gaze sweeping over the gathered vampire leaders. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the room filled with suppressed anger and frustration.
"Fuck! The Blood God didn't keep his promise!"
One of the male vampires slammed his fist against the table, his voice filled with fury.
They had given Drake the location of the Nightstalkers' base, expecting him to wipe them out completely. Instead, even without Blade present, the operation had failed.
Now Drake was nowhere to be seen.
Complaints erupted around the room, voices rising one after another as the vampires vented their anger. Danika remained silent, her expression dark, her thoughts far more complicated than the others'.
One Blade had already been a problem.
Now there was another.
A man who could fight the Blood God and walk away—and worse, a man who might not even be a vampire.
That uncertainty weighed on her more than anything else.
Then something shifted.
Fine particles began to drift down from above, barely noticeable at first. One of the vampires frowned, raising a hand to his throat as he coughed.
The next second, flames burst from his body.
"Fuck!"
Panic exploded through the room. Before anyone could react properly, the skylight above shattered.
A figure dropped straight down into the center of the hall.
"A bunch of bitches—I'm here!"
Hannibal landed smoothly, raising both middle fingers high as he flashed a grin that bordered on suicidal confidence. His voice echoed through the chamber, dripping with mockery as he faced the enraged vampires.
The response was immediate.
A vampire with a yellow ponytail lunged forward and slammed him into the ground with a brutal punch.
"Oh my god, man—come help me!"
Hannibal shouted desperately, his earlier bravado evaporating as he looked upward.
The upper level was empty.
His expression froze.
"Hey… hey…"
He forced a strained smile as he slowly tried to crawl backward, but the yellow-haired vampire was already charging again.
Then—
Another figure dropped down.
Danika, standing at the rear, saw his face and froze.
Her expression twisted instantly, and without hesitation, she turned and fled toward the back exit.
An afterimage flashed.
The yellow-haired vampire's body lifted into the air like it had been struck by a speeding vehicle, slamming into the steel wall hard enough to leave a deep dent.
Hannibal blinked, then scrambled to his feet and immediately hid behind Locke, his confidence returning as fast as it had disappeared.
Both middle fingers shot back up.
"Back off! Don't get in his way!"
Locke glanced at him with a hint of helplessness, a trace of embarrassment flickering across his face. Hannibal, meanwhile, continued taunting the vampires with exaggerated gestures before finally shouting, "Locke, kick these bastards' asses!"
The vampires surged forward.
Some tried to bypass Locke entirely, aiming straight for Hannibal. They didn't get far.
Afterimages flickered across the room.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each impact sent a vampire flying, bodies slamming into walls and crashing across the floor. Locke moved through them like a storm, his speed so overwhelming it left only blurred motion behind.
Then, with a smooth motion, he drew the silver sword from his back.
Every vampire froze.
Their expressions twisted into fear as they stared at him, the sheer speed and pressure radiating from his presence enough to shake even their confidence.
Outside the corridor, the sounds of roars and screams echoed from the chamber behind.
Hannibal leaned against the wall, humming casually as he listened, his face filled with admiration.
"Man really calls himself a vampire, but he's more vampire than actual vampires," he muttered. "Listen to that screaming… beautiful."
Shaking his head, he wandered off into the hall.
Then he stopped.
"What the hell… where'd this little guy come from?"
A small dog stood in front of him, barely the size of a human head. Hannibal crouched slightly, pulling a mocking face as he stared at it.
The dog's mouth slowly split open.
A thin, writhing tentacle slid out.
"Whoa!"
Hannibal jumped back instantly, his expression shifting from amusement to alarm.
"Hey… you've got more attitude than your tongue suggests," he said nervously, glancing behind him.
There was no escape route.
"Shit… even your master wouldn't dare bare his teeth at me. Who the hell do you think you are?"
He slowly pulled a silver dagger from his pocket, his stance tightening as he prepared to strike.
Then two more figures appeared.
Two massive black dogs, each the size of a calf, stepped forward and stood behind the smaller one.
Hannibal's expression changed instantly.
A strained, overly polite smile spread across his face as he looked at the little creature now grinning at him.
The next second—
He screamed and ran.
With a wild shout, he sprinted toward the floor-to-ceiling window and crashed straight through it, glass shattering as he fell.
At the last second, his hands caught the railing above.
With a burst of strength, he swung himself back up, landing smoothly inside again just as the three vampire dogs plunged past the opening and dropped out of sight.
Hannibal leaned over the edge, staring down at them with lingering disbelief.
"Tiny one…"
....
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