Three o'clock in the afternoon, New Eridu.
Having lost a vast portion of its population, New Eridu resembled a lake that had completely dried up.
The once-surging tide along its shores had long since receded, leaving behind nothing but a stagnant pool of foul-smelling sludge.
As time passed, the sun finally began to slant westward. Skirting past the high-rise buildings where the vampires of the city resided, its light fell upon a ruin that had long been hidden in darkness.
However, the inhabitants of that ruin did not appear to welcome the sun's arrival.
Across lawns, flowerbeds, and ruins of every size, clusters of what looked like black coal balls seemed to sense something.
One after another, they extended their thin, elongated black hairs, wriggling their bodies as they moved toward a suddenly exposed open sewer.
But… the sewer was never meant to be a permanent refuge.
As the coal balls surged in en masse, the sewer—no matter how much it bared itself, no matter how desperately it offered everything it had—received not the slightest mercy.
Like sponges, they drained the filthy water in an instant, yet remained unsatisfied.
Those coal balls that failed to get any water panicked. They suddenly leapt forward, pouncing on their companions.
One bite here, another bite there—together they swarmed, tearing a fellow creature apart. Bruised, dark blood mixed with shattered organs poured from ruptured bellies, releasing a stench so nauseating it made one's stomach churn.
Yet to the surrounding coal balls, that smell was like a sacred fragrance.
They rushed in eagerly, answering the call in droves.
One moment, a cluster of coal balls had their abdomens ripped open by their own kind. The next, another cluster was being devoured alive.
The stench thickening in the air soon grew more than ten times stronger than that of a septic tank—dozens of times stronger.
Even the three half-blood vampires nearby, clad in full hazmat suits, couldn't help but recoil, their faces contorting with involuntary physical disgust as they staggered backward.
If resentment could kill, the sheer revulsion etched onto their faces would have been enough to stop an army of a million.
"Ugh—! I can't take this anymore! What kind of garbage gas mask is this? I swear it's leaking!"
At last, the tall, gaunt half-blood vampire snapped.
Despite being fully equipped, his face twisted grotesquely as he splashed the liquid from his bottle with obvious impatience. The fluid pooled into one shallow pit after another, forming new, reeking sewers.
Almost immediately, swarms of coal balls rushed in again, diving headfirst into the filthy water. They exposed their grotesque, freeform mouthparts and plunged downward, antennae thrust high into the air.
Yes—antennae.
In fact, every part of their bodies was all too familiar to both humans and vampires alike.
Six disgusting, bristle-covered legs. Pitch-black backs. Damp, slick wings.
Revolting mouthparts greedily gulping down the bloodied sludge of their own kind, filling the air with an unbearable stench.
Cockroaches.
Creatures so small—often weighing only a few grams, or at most a few dozen—that they could still terrify humans dozens of kilograms heavier.
Yet now, these cockroaches drinking from the sewer had grown grotesquely large. Each was roughly the size of an egg, their weight clearly approaching—if not exceeding—a hundred grams.
Soon after, the cold-faced half-blood vampire finished pouring out his bottle as well.
He stepped back to join the tall one, removed his mask, and took a deep breath of fresh air, even smacking his lips in faint satisfaction.
After a moment, he put the mask back on and asked in confusion,
"Leader, these cockroaches are huge. What exactly is this stuff we're pouring?"
"Don't ask questions you shouldn't."
The leader didn't even turn around, focused only on emptying the last few bottles so he could be done and head back. He silently vowed to himself that he would never take a job like this again.
But the tall, gaunt half-blood vampire—having finished his share the fastest—spoke up anyway.
"Hey, I know this one. What's the big secret? It's just gene-modifying base fluid mixed with a few extra ingredients, right?"
"Gene-modifying base fluid?"
The cold-faced vampire frowned. He'd heard of it before—something the clan had developed years ago, though it had only been tested on mammals back then.
He hadn't expected it to be used on cockroaches now.
"Yeah. Gene-modifying base fluid. Used to selectively distort a creature's genes."
The tall vampire squatted down, resting his chin on his arm, which was propped on his knee. He spoke lazily, sounding bored.
"Judging by their size, I'd say they're boosting appetite along with body mass. Once these roaches start breeding, they'll drive them out to the Outer Ring."
"Eat their food. Sleep in their beds."
"Chew through their tents. Lick their parents."
At some point, a bewitching, eerie voice drifted in from the side.
"Is that so? How disgusting. Do they have any other abilities?"
"Of course they do!"
Perhaps carried away by his own words, the tall vampire lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"I'm telling you—don't spread this around."
"Just a guess. Only a guess."
"Cockroaches are natural carriers of disease. I bet there's all kinds of filth mixed into that base fluid. The clan's probably counting on this to win without ever fighting."
"Win without fighting? You make it sound like you're the victims."
The haunting voice rang out again, tinged with mockery.
"That fake kindness really is something only the vampire clans could come up with."
"Fake kindness? Isn't the clan genuinely thinking about humanity, trying to end the war sooner—"
The tall vampire spoke as he turned his head.
The instant his eyes landed on the torn stockings stretched over a shapely leg, he knew something was wrong.
By the time he registered the teasing smile on the Rat Thiren's face behind him—and felt the icy touch of a blade pressed against his skin—cold dread had already flooded his body.
His heart sank.
Forcing a smile, he tried to flatter her.
"H-Hello there, Miss Rat Thiren."
"You're right. The vampire clans really are fake. There's no one more hypocritical than them—Aah!!!"
Slash!
The blade spun once in Jane's hand, and a finger was sent flying into the air.
The tall vampire clutched his mutilated hand and screamed as he collapsed to the ground.
Jane followed up with a kick, his body curling like a shrimp as he convulsed intermittently.
"Hey, you two."
She spoke calmly as she stepped over him.
"Either punch yourselves unconscious, or I'll do it for you."
"Just so you know—I don't pull my punches."
Jane strode past the fallen vampire, her long legs stepping lightly. Her slender tail deftly hooked the pistol hanging at his waist.
She flicked off the safety.
Chambered a round.
The dark muzzle rose, pointing squarely between the remaining two—not aimed at either one in particular.
The next instant, the leader moved.
He bent his knees and rolled to the side, arm swinging as he reached for his own gun—
Bang.
A bullet slammed straight into his forehead before his fingers even touched the grip.
Carried by momentum, his corpse continued rolling until it landed in a stinking sewer, instantly swarmed by cockroaches.
"Ugh. Disgusting."
Jane had intended to blow the smoke from the barrel, but the sight killed her interest immediately.
She turned instead, the pistol now precisely aimed at the cold-faced half-blood vampire's head—an angle that left no room for error.
The cold-faced vampire swallowed, then—astonishingly—let out a bitter laugh.
He raised his hands, turned toward the wall, and slammed his head into it.
Thud.
He collapsed to the ground. Jane glanced over and saw blood spilling from his head.
"Hmph."
She snorted softly, flicked the safety back on the confiscated pistol, and slipped it into her bag. Then she pulled out her phone, smoothly inserted a SIM card, and powered it on.
"Hello, No. 11. You can come in now. There's no one left on my end."
"Yeah. Just watch your footing when you come in."
"There are some dark little kitchen sprites living here."
"Try not to disturb them."