The situation spiraled out of control.
Thousands of vampires poured out of the structure, no longer thinking, no longer hesitating. Purebloods and hybrids alike moved as one—like rabid animals—charging east without regard for anything in their path.
"Have you all lost your minds?!" Deacon Frost roared.
His voice carried both fury and frustration.
The air outside was still saturated with weaponized compounds lethal to their kind. Under normal circumstances, stepping into it would have been suicide.
But what he saw next made him pause.
They were taking damage.
Their skin blistered, cracked, and burned under the lingering effects in the air. Some even screamed as parts of their bodies began to break down.
And yet—
They didn't stop.
They endured it.
They pushed forward anyway.
Frost's expression darkened.
They've changed…
He quickly assessed their numbers.
Roughly half of the original group remained—just over two thousand. But their speed had increased. Their resilience had improved. The weaknesses that once defined them had clearly been reduced.
Something had happened during the ritual.
Something even he hadn't fully understood.
"What's out there…" he muttered, gripping his head as a strange, intrusive urge gnawed at his thoughts, "that's driving them like this?"
For the soldiers outside, the situation had flipped completely.
What had started as a controlled extermination had turned into chaos.
The vampires, no longer as vulnerable as before, became something far more dangerous.
Faster.
Stronger.
Harder to kill.
They crashed into the military lines like a tidal wave.
Soldiers were dragged down, their bodies drained in seconds—left behind as lifeless husks.
But the vampires didn't linger.
They took just enough blood to recover, then kept moving.
East.
Always east.
Within minutes, they had broken through the perimeter, leaving behind devastation—and a stunned battlefield.
Inside a secured channel—
Nick Fury listened in silence as the report came through.
"You're telling me they broke out," he said slowly, "killed over a thousand of your men… and now they're heading into the city?"
On the other end, General Ross sounded furious.
"They're not reacting like normal vampires anymore. Silver barely slows them down, UV isn't as effective—and they're acting like they're chasing something. They're heading straight for the commercial district."
Ross looked out over the wreckage, jaw tight.
A quarter of his force—gone.
Just like that.
High above the battlefield—
A lone figure stood atop the structure.
A bald woman in flowing yellow robes.
Calm. Still.
Watching.
Before her, a tear in reality shimmered—a gateway to something beyond.
At her chest, a green glow pulsed softly.
"You've crossed a line," she said evenly.
Her voice carried through the rift.
On the other side, a presence answered.
"I'm not finished here yet," it replied. "Let me complete what I started. I'll leave when I'm done."
The Ancient One didn't hesitate.
"No."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"I know what you want. And I won't allow it."
A pause.
"He matters," she continued. "More than you realize. This world needs him."
The air shifted.
The green light at her chest flared.
Time fractured.
Versions of her—past and future—stepped into existence, surrounding the dimensional breach.
Dozens of them.
All watching.
All blocking the way.
At the same time—
Elsewhere, something responded.
A spark of orange light opened in the air.
From distant locations—secured, hidden—two more forces were drawn into her grasp.
Blue.
Purple.
Energy condensed into solid form.
The Space Stone.
The Power Stone.
They hovered briefly before settling into her hands, joining the Time Stone already in her possession.
Three Infinity Stones.
At once.
Their combined energy distorted the space around her, bending reality itself.
On the other side of the rift—
The entity fell silent.
Then—
Annoyance.
Frustration.
It had seen potential.
A rare opportunity.
And now—
It was being denied.
Slowly, the presence withdrew.
Back in the city—
Night stretched on.
Noah walked along a quiet street, Camilla beside him.
Then he stopped.
Tilted his head.
Listened.
In the distance—
A sound.
Faint at first.
Then growing louder.
Footsteps.
Thousands of them.
Noah turned.
And saw them.
A flood of figures rushing through the streets, tearing through anything in their way. People screamed, scattering as the wave of vampires barreled forward, smashing through obstacles without slowing.
And all of them—
Were looking at him.
Fragments of thought echoed through the mass.
That's him.
Take him.
Turn him.
We need him.
The weaker ones were the most affected, their minds almost completely overtaken.
But even the stronger ones weren't immune.
"What the hell…?" Noah muttered.
He grabbed Camilla instinctively and leapt, landing on a nearby rooftop in a single motion.
From there, he watched the chaos below.
Then—
Every head snapped upward.
Every gaze locked onto him.
And without hesitation—
They changed direction.
Noah's eyes narrowed.
So it's me.
He released Camilla and stepped back slightly.
"Why are they after you?" she asked, stunned.
"I have no idea," Noah replied. "I didn't exactly send out invitations."
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"Stay here."
He glanced at her once.
"I'll deal with this."
They were already reaching him.
Dozens of vampires leapt onto the rooftop, their bodies moving with inhuman speed, jaws open as they lunged.
Noah moved first.
A single punch.
Three bodies exploded instantly.
Blood burst into the air, caught in the shockwave of the strike. The force alone knocked several others off the roof, sending them crashing to the street below.
Cracks spread beneath Noah's feet, spiderwebbing across the rooftop.
He didn't stop.
Didn't hesitate.
The next second—
He launched himself forward.
Straight into the swarm.