"What is this?" Boris asked, looking at the test tube in front of him, puzzled.
"Do you like comic books?" Murphy asked. "I enjoy them, especially the origin stories of the anti-heroes."
"Originally pure and innocent, yet suddenly struck by tragedy, trapped in despair, struggling in vain, and failing repeatedly. Then, when all hope seems lost, an opportunity falls from the sky. Only then can they rise to greatness."
"It's a cliché, but endlessly fascinating."
"Now, your story has reached its darkest moment."
"It's time for a turning point."
"This is your opportunity."
Murphy produced a syringe and filled it with the crystal-clear blood from the test tube.
"This is true vampire blood," Murphy explained. "It can turn you into a vampire. It has many drawbacks, like not being able to go out during the day, trouble sleeping at night, fear of garlic, and the need to live on blood. But it also grants certain abilities."
"It will make you incredibly fast, give you better night vision than felines, and provide a strong regenerative ability. Your wounds will heal quickly, and ordinary firearms will hardly be able to kill you."
"Moreover, you'll be able to transform into a bat, immune to most germs and toxins, and possess all the abilities of a bat."
"In short, you'll become..."
"Batman?" Boris exclaimed in surprise.
"..."
Sure, call it whatever you want.
Murphy handed the syringe over. "It's your choice whether to use it or not."
Boris hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the wall of clippings. Suddenly, he grabbed the syringe and plunged it into his neck.
Murphy was stunned.
Actually, a vein injection would have sufficed, man.
Seconds later, Boris collapsed to the ground, discarding the empty syringe. His eyes rolled wildly, and he curled into a ball.
"Ah!!"
As he screamed in agony, his body seemed to crawl with countless insects under his skin, his veins bulging and muscles twitching uncontrollably.
Murphy frowned. It hadn't been this painful when Lysander transformed that blood thrall, had it?
Then it hit him – had he given too much true blood?
Sure enough, Boris's skin started to redden and heat up. Gradually, a blood-red aura emanated from him, his eyes turning a deep red, and two sharp fangs protruded from his lips.
Suddenly, the agonizing screams ceased. Boris lay motionless, the blood-red aura slowly receding into his body.
Did it work? Or did he die?
Murphy wasn't sure. He nudged Boris with his foot.
No response.
Did this guy actually die?
What a waste of true blood!
However, Boris suddenly turned his head, his crimson eyes fixating on Murphy, startling him.
His face, once fairly handsome, was now twisted and fierce, resembling a terrifying demon.
He rose, hands and feet on the ground, his nails lengthened enough to scratch the floor, moving around Murphy like a starving wolf.
Murphy drew his wand, ready to fly away if Boris attacked.
However, Boris, despite his twisted face and bloodshot eyes, didn't attack. Instead, he moved to the window and leaped out.
Hmm?
Murphy hurried to the window.
He saw a large black shadow plummeting towards the ground, seemingly about to crash, when suddenly, in a swirl of blood, it transformed into a bat, much larger than usual, clumsily flapping its wings and taking off.
Murphy followed in pursuit, turning into a cloud of black smoke.
The large bat, wrapped in a blood-colored aura, flew rapidly, reaching its destination in minutes.
It was a luxurious European-style mansion, surrounded by a forest and a garden, with a huge swimming pool in the yard, currently occupied by several women in swimwear.
Murphy admired the lifestyle, regretting not having a pool in his own mansion.
The mansion's defense was tight, with cameras covering every angle and over a dozen security personnel patrolling.
Even for Murphy, a frontal attack would be challenging.
However, both he and Boris had flown in. Boris, transformed into a bat, easily entered through an open window on the second floor.
Murphy followed, and as soon as he landed, he saw Boris, already in human form, rushing out of the room.
Boris seemed even bigger than before, and his leg was no longer lame.
"Who? Ugh..."
A short cry came from outside the door. Murphy stepped out to see Boris pinning a security guard in a black suit against the wall, biting into his neck and greedily sucking blood.
The guard convulsed, apparently paralyzed, his face rapidly losing color. In moments, he was drained to a husk.
"Who's there?!"
Another person spotted Boris feeding in the hallway and raised a gun.
Murphy quickly cast an armor spell on himself and became invisible to watch the scene.
Boris turned towards the armed guard and charged.
The guard fired three shots, but Boris, seemingly indifferent, was hit in the chest and abdomen without slowing down, pouncing on the man and ripping open his throat.
The gunshots awakened the entire mansion. Two more guards rushed in, one wielding a submachine gun.
But Boris anticipated their arrival. He sprinted along the wall, reaching them just as they appeared at the top of the stairs, slashing the throat of the one with the submachine gun.
The guard reflexively pulled the trigger, firing wildly at the ceiling.
Boris, however, had already overpowered the other guard, smashing his head against the wall in a bloody mess.
"Bang!" A gunshot rang, and a hole appeared in the wall behind Boris.
A fat man in a robe emerged from a bedroom on the second floor. "You? The accountant?!"