"You... you..." The Wiry Samurai's voice trailed off, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.
He had interacted with Master Seven, and knew all too well the terrifying power backing him. Even the ancient Sarpa-Rani, a legendary figure in the vamp world, wouldn't dare provoke the foxvamps of North Cliff, let alone a mere security specialist from Seattle.
Bowing one's head before them was a matter of survival, not shame.
But someone had dared to defy them?
… …
"Damn it..." Master Seven's features contorted in rage, his stomach convulsing as he retched up the partially digested remains of Kevin Stone, bile and blood mingling in a gruesome spectacle.
He rolled onto his back, his eyes blazing with fury. His breaths grew ragged, each inhale and exhale a guttural rasp that sounded more animalistic than human.
"ROAR!"
A deafening roar erupted from his throat, a primal scream that shook the very foundations of the mansion. The sheer force of the sound wave sent tremors through the courtyard.
Those of First Realm strength remained unmoved, but Wade, despite his training, staggered back two steps, his ears ringing.
The butler fared even worse, collapsing to the ground, his fine coat stained with the grime of the courtyard.
"It's over, it's over! The Hightower family is doomed!" The butler's voice was a panicked shriek, his eyes darting fearfully towards the unfolding scene.
I paid him no mind. With deliberate calm, I drew my foot-long dagger. There was no dramatic flourish, no gnashing of teeth. It was a simple, unhurried motion, akin to unfurling an umbrella in a sudden downpour.
The effect, however, was instantaneous. Master Seven's defiant roar abruptly ceased, replaced by a look of stark terror. He spun on his heels and bolted, his powerful legs propelling him across the courtyard in a desperate bid for escape.
In the chaos, the Wiry Samurai's eyes widened in surprise. Even the stoic Butcher Garcia raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. Both were First Realm practitioners, yet Master Seven was fleeing in abject fear.
"The police are handling this case," perhaps guessing Master Seven was wary of his help, the Wiry Samurai interjected, his voice laced with a strange mix of sarcasm and satisfaction. "This is not our concern."
Butcher Garcia glanced at him, a sneer twisting his lips.
Yet, even with this assurance, Master Seven showed no sign of slowing down. He continued to flee, his fear palpable.
In a blink, I closed the distance, my movements a blur as I materialized behind Master Seven. The dagger in my hand descended in a swift arc, its trajectory imbued with the raw, untamed power of the Blood Evil Sword.
Master Seven, sensing the imminent danger, twisted his body, desperately throwing up an elbow to block the strike.
The impact was sickening. The blade, wreathed in a chilling aura of scarlet and gray, sliced through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter. The force of the blow shattered his elbow, the demonic energy coursing through his arm, leaving a gaping wound that sizzled with corrosive power.
The gruesome injury exposed patches of dark yellow fur beneath the tattered remnants of his human disguise. The stench of decay filled the air, a testament to his true nature.
Master Seven, his vision blurred by pain and the encroaching darkness, stumbled backward, his voice a blood-curdling scream. "You madman! She won't let you get away with this!"
His words seemed to strike a chord with the Wiry Samurai. The samurai stared at me, his face a mask of pity, as if he were witnessing a death sentence being carried out.
Butcher Garcia, on the other hand, watched the wounded tigervamp with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He reached behind his back, drawing a simple butcher knife that seemed comically small in his massive hand.
Without hesitation, Butcher Garcia reversed his grip on the butcher knife, raising his thick arm high above his head. With a mighty swing, he brought the flat of the blade down upon the fleeing tigervamp.
The impact was devastating. The already disoriented Master Seven was sent sprawling, his body slamming into the ground with a sickening crunch.
As he struggled to regain his footing, a calm face materialized in his blurred vision. I glanced at him dispassionately, my movements swift and precise.
Swish!
A silver flash arced through the air.
Master Seven's head and body parted ways, tumbling to the ground in a grotesque display. His lifeless form rapidly swelled, transforming into the powerful, muscular physique of a tiger.
I sheathed my dagger, then knelt beside the corpse. With practiced ease, I plunged my fingers into its abdomen, retrieving a small, pulsating vamp core.
[Tigervamp (Early stage of First Realm), total lifespan 520 years, 132 years remaining - absorbed]
"Are you insane?!" the Wiry Samurai roared, his fury directed at his colleague. "How many times have I warned you not to cause trouble?!"
Butcher Garcia calmly sheathed his butcher knife, then plucked another blade of grass and placed it in his mouth. His expression soured as he quickly spat it out. "Ugh, does your family keep dogs? This tastes like I just licked a fire hydrant."
I turned to him, "Thank you," I said, as I put away the vamp core.
"Just getting a bit of practice in," Butcher Garcia replied with a nonchalant shrug. "My hands get itchy if they don't see some action."
"You fool... you absolute fool..." The Wiry Samurai's hands trembled with rage as his reprimand was ignored.
I turned my attention to Wade, noticing the pistol still clutched in his hand. A flicker of confusion crossed my face.
"Just a bit nervous," Wade explained, quickly holstered his weapon. "Needed a little something to bolster my courage."
His gaze darted nervously to the floor, guilt flickering across his face.
The pistol had been drawn in a moment of anger, fueled by lingering doubts about the very man who deserved his utmost trust. His skepticism had allowed idle gossip to strike a nerve.
Yet, witnessing the swift and decisive action against the tigervamp had left him awestruck. This was the first time he'd witnessed someone slay a First Realm creature, and with such ease; the vamp hadn't even offered the slightest resistance.
The only consolation for Wade was that the technique used wasn't Shadowstrike. Perhaps, he reasoned, Sergeant Kane had been training in secret, under the guidance of another mentor.
"Alright, Wade," I said with a calm voice. "Take the vamp's body back to evidence."
"Yes, sir," Wade replied, stepping forward to handle the task.
Just then, the Wiry Samurai's voice cut through the quiet, his tone laced with disdain. "Young Kane, your subordinate didn't draw his pistol against the vampire. He drew it against me. He doesn't need courage-boosting. He's got enough gall to threaten even me."
Wade froze, a visible wave of regret washing over him. His impulsive action, fueled by anger, had clouded his judgment. Causing more trouble on top of the vamp threat was the last thing we needed.
He lowered his head, contemplating an apology. But before he could speak, my voice sliced through the stillness.
"Did you really say that?" I asked, my tone neutral.
Wade hesitated, then admitted, "Yes, sir, I did."
The Wiry Samurai smirked, his posture oozing with smug satisfaction.
I nodded, then turned and walked towards him.
"It's not a big deal," he began, his tone condescending. "I'm not one to hold grudges. But Sergeant Kane, you should keep a tighter leash on your subordinates..."
His words died in his throat as I stopped right before him, my hand resting lightly on the scabbard at my waist.
I met his gaze, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips. "So what?" I asked, my voice laced with a chilling calm.