By seven in the evening, a full moon had risen above the city.
Outside, Camilla crouched near the curb, rubbing sunscreen onto her arms with visible annoyance. It was her first time stepping outside in over ten days.
Not far from her, Noah stood at the front door of a townhouse, dressed casually, one hand in his pocket as he pressed the doorbell.
The chime barely finished ringing before the door swung open.
Gwen Stacy stood there, bright and put-together in a yellow hoodie and light blue jeans. She smiled the moment she saw him.
"Perfect timing," she said, stepping forward. "I'm ready. Let's go."
"Yeah," Noah replied easily. "Let's grab dinner first. There's a Chinese place nearby I've heard is good. You okay with that?"
Without hesitation, he reached out and took her hand.
Gwen blinked, clearly caught off guard by how natural—and forward—he was being tonight. A faint blush crept into her cheeks.
"I mean… yeah," she said, trying to sound casual. "I can try it."
"Good," Noah said with a small smile. "We'll eat, walk around a bit, then head to the movie. Actually, what are we seeing tonight?"
As he spoke, he gently guided her down the sidewalk. Behind his back, his other hand made a subtle motion.
Follow.
A couple hundred meters away, Camilla sighed.
"Unbelievable…"
Still, she got up and trailed after them, keeping her distance carefully within the invisible boundary Noah had set.
Two hundred meters.
That was the limit.
At his current speed, he could cross that distance in seconds—fast enough to catch or kill anything within it before they had time to react.
That was why he wasn't worried.
"So," Noah said, glancing at Gwen, "your dad's okay with this? Commissioner Stacy's not going to hunt me down for taking you out?"
Gwen laughed softly, though her eyes darted away for a second under his gaze.
"No, it's fine. He just told me not to stay out too late."
"Fair enough," Noah said. "Things have been getting worse around the city lately."
He paused, then added casually, "Did they ever catch that guy? The one taking out gangs?"
Gwen shook her head. "No. He disappeared after a couple of days. No new activity since. Maybe he went underground."
"Maybe," Noah said, thoughtful.
That lined up with what he expected.
No one was connecting him to those killings. Not with how different he looked back then.
Not that it mattered much anymore.
At his current level, the rules had changed.
A single punch carried enough force to shatter concrete. His movement speed alone made him nearly impossible to track in close quarters.
Even firearms weren't much of a threat—so long as he had time to react.
And if something did go wrong?
He still had a margin for recovery.
That was more than enough.
Enough to make even risky choices feel… manageable.
Deep in the heart of the city—
Beneath a massive marble structure supported by twelve towering stone pillars carved with ancient patterns, a crowd had gathered.
Hundreds of pale figures stood in silence, their attention fixed on the man at the center.
Deacon Frost.
He raised his arms, his voice carrying through the chamber.
"My brothers and sisters," he called out, "we've endured human oppression long enough."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"I'm done living with the weaknesses of this body. And after tonight…" His lips curled into a smile. "We won't have to."
The room grew still.
"Ancient records—fragments we've managed to recover—tell us that the first vampires had no weaknesses. No fear of sunlight. No vulnerability to silver."
Eyes lit up across the crowd.
"On a night like this," Deacon continued, gesturing upward, "under a full moon, with twelve purebloods offered in sacrifice… and the blood of a Daywalker—"
His voice dropped, heavy with anticipation.
"We can call upon something greater."
"The Blood God will answer."
"And when it does… it will remake us."
A sharp inhale passed through the room.
"No more hiding. No more fear. We'll walk in the daylight. We'll reclaim our place at the top."
Excitement spread like wildfire.
If what he said was true—
Everything would change.
Not just one bloodline.
Not just one transformation.
This ritual could be repeated.
Again and again.
A new era of vampires. Unlimited.
Deacon watched them, a flicker of amusement hidden behind his expression.
They had no idea.
This wasn't just about evolution.
It was about power.
Each ritual didn't just create—it fed.
And it could be done more than once.
Twelve purebloods. A Daywalker.
Again. And again.
As many times as he needed.
To him, the vampires gathered here weren't allies.
They were fuel.
If I'm going to stand against humanity, he thought, I'll need more than one transformation.
He had already made his calculations.
At least five rounds tonight.
Sixty purebloods, minimum.
Looking at the crowd, he was confident.
There were more than enough.
With a single gesture, the ritual began.
Twelve restrained pureblood vampires were dragged forward and chained at the base of the stone pillars.
Above them—
Blade hung suspended, his arms bound.
A blade sliced across his wrist.
Blood poured out, flowing through carved channels into the ritual site below.
The air shifted.
Something ancient stirred.
Outside the structure—
A man in U.S. military uniform stood at the perimeter, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.
Behind him, rows of heavily armed soldiers waited in formation.
General Thaddeus Ross exhaled slowly, studying the building.
"So this is where they've been hiding."
He flicked the ash aside.
"No negotiations," he said flatly. "Once we're inside, anyone confirmed as a vampire gets put down. Use tranquilizers first—if that fails, escalate."
The soldiers nodded.
Then, in coordinated silence, they moved in.