Vampires are neither gods nor demons.
As Herman had said, they were nothing more than filthy creatures, incapable of offering the slightest nourishment to his divinity.
Only by taking down beings like Dracula—those who possessed the power of rules—could Herman's divinity be fed and strengthened.
"Alright. Now tell me exactly what happened." Herman turned, his gaze falling on Wanda's face full of admiration, and on the two girls who looked like they were about to faint from infatuation. They were strange indeed—completely unfazed by the carnage all around them.
"Homelander! Can I get your autograph?"
Anna's eyes burned with excitement. Herman had no doubt that even if he asked her something outrageous, she'd probably nod without hesitation.
"I want one too! Homelander, let's take a picture together!" Lorraine chirped, already fumbling for her phone, as if posing with him in the middle of this blood-soaked scene was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe that was the true horror of fangirls.
"Wanda."
Herman called her name. She stepped forward timidly, so unlike the brave, determined girl she had been earlier.
She was afraid of him being angry, more afraid he would think her reckless. It was a complicated mix of guilt and dread that made her chest tighten.
"I'm sorry."
The words came from Herman, and for a moment Wanda froze in surprise.
"It should be me who apologizes…" she began, but her words cut off when Herman suddenly placed both hands on Anna and Lorraine's heads.
"No!"
Wanda screamed, horrified.
But the scene she dreaded most never came—he didn't crush their skulls the way he had destroyed the vampires.
Instead, Wanda saw their eyes glaze over briefly before they both slumped unconscious to the floor, as if lulled into a deep sleep.
"I had to do it."
Of course, Herman hadn't killed them. He wasn't some mustache-twirling villain. All he had done was erase their memories of Wanda and the vampire party.
His growing mastery over his psychic powers now allowed him to do things like selectively delete memories.
Direct control over another's mind, however, was still beyond him. That would take more time and greater mastery.
"You erased their memories?"
Wanda was quick. She understood immediately what he'd done.
Now she realized why he had apologized. Thank God—it was only memory erasure. She let out a shaky sigh of relief.
For a moment, she had been bracing herself to watch her friends' heads burst like watermelons.
"They're just kids. Their mouths aren't reliable. We can't let them leak what happened tonight."
Herman pulled out his phone, typed a message, and sent it. Then he lifted his head and spoke patiently to Wanda.
"In this world, there are plenty of people who would capture and exploit people like us. That's why we can't allow any risk."
The real danger would fall on Wanda.
If someone like Trask ever set his sights on him, Herman would make them understand what true cruelty meant.
"I understand."
Wanda nodded, her small head trembling. She looked at him sadly.
"Does this mean I can't go back to school anymore? Will they still remember me?"
"I know I caused you trouble. I promise I won't be so reckless again." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke.
Just as he expected. Wanda was a clever girl.
Herman looked at her deeply. "I'm not here to punish you. In fact, you weren't wrong. Protecting your friends was admirable. But we can't ignore that you put yourself in danger."
Since he had "taken her in," Herman felt it was his responsibility to look after her.
"I'm sorry."
Wanda kept her head lowered, her mood weighed down.
"Don't apologize. Get stronger. Do better… Your problem isn't just that you're weak—it's that you don't think, you don't judge." Herman's tone wasn't harsh. He spoke with patience, teaching Wanda the truth of the world.
"Remember what you chose today. You didn't run away alone, and that was good. But you also couldn't really protect your friends. So, until you have enough strength, you must be cautious with every choice you make."
Herman had asked the three of them about what happened.
No one answered.
But he had already seen the whole story in the memories of the two little girls.
"I'll remember."
Wanda nodded earnestly, wiping away her tears. Still, she couldn't help glancing longingly at the two unconscious girls in Herman's arms.
"Maybe one day, you'll have the chance to be friends with them again." Herman led Wanda outside. At the door, someone was already waiting.
"Damn it, Wanda! What the hell were you thinking?"
Quicksilver had only just received Herman's text.
When he found out Wanda had run off, he dropped the Playboy magazine he'd just swiped from Herman's office and bolted over—running faster than he ever had before.
Just like Wanda, Quicksilver's powers weren't especially impressive yet, limited by his age and experience. But at his peak, he could hit speeds of seven to eight hundred thousand kilometers per hour, sprint across water, even run up vertical walls.
"Sorry, brother." Wanda didn't even know how many times she'd said it today. She kept her head down, looking completely at a loss.
"No need to scold her. I already gave her a lesson." Herman eased Quicksilver's temper. He hadn't come to yell at her anyway.
He was just worried something might've happened to her.
"I know I was wrong."
Wanda bit her lip, looking pitiful.
"How many times have I told you—don't try to play the hero…" Quicksilver started, but when he looked at Herman, he swallowed his words. Finally, he sighed, seeing Wanda unharmed. "As long as you're safe."
His anger was only ever because he cared.
The two siblings only had each other.
"Take these two kids back first." Herman handed Anna and Lorraine over to Quicksilver.
"These are Wanda's friends?"
Quicksilver nodded, then took off with them in a streak of silver light, disappearing into the night.
Most people thought Quicksilver was just fast—likely because of his pitiful death in The Avengers.
But in truth—
As Magneto's son, Scarlet Witch's brother, his powers went far beyond speed. His body was stronger than ordinary humans. His bones could withstand impacts that would shatter normal people. His tendons were tougher than some alloys. By vibrating his arms or legs, he could even achieve short-range flight.
Like DC's Flash, Quicksilver could vibrate at high frequencies to phase through solid matter. Later, he even developed the ability to travel through time.
Of course, he could only maintain that state for a few hours at most.
He could meet his past or future selves, but never replace them. In the end, he always returned to his own timeline.
"Does this mean I can't go to school anymore?"
Wanda asked as she rushed to take Herman's bloodstained coat, clutching it carefully. She looked like a child who'd done something wrong, eager to make up for it by pleasing her parent.
"I'm sending you to a new school." Herman didn't soften. He knew it was time for Wanda to receive a different kind of education.
"A new school?"
Wanda hesitated.
"There, you can show your differences freely. More importantly, the teachers will teach you what it really means to be responsible—for yourself and for others. They'll help you master your powers."
The school Herman had in mind for Wanda was Professor Charles' Mutant Academy.
Despite the flaws of Charles and the X-Mansion, no one could deny the school's quality of teaching.
Especially for mutants. As long as they weren't out on missions as X-Men, the X-Mansion was arguably the safest place in New York.
Human traffickers sneaking in to kidnap kids? Impossible. Professor Charles would never refuse to take in a friend's daughter.
With Magneto's connection, Charles might even give Wanda special attention, passing on all his knowledge.
After all, Charles had no children of his own. Back when Herman first watched X-Men, he'd always thought Magneto and Charles were the real pair.
"There's really a school like that?"
Wanda's sadness gave way to curiosity. She could hardly imagine such a place existing—a school just for mutants, a place to learn and grow stronger.
"Yes. I think you'll be very happy there." The more Herman thought about it, the more he was certain Wanda would be treated like family at Charles' school.
He even regretted not sending her earlier. Who knew—maybe when Charles eventually passed, that priceless castle money couldn't buy might even end up in Wanda's hands.
"I…"
Wanda tried to say something more.
"What now?" Suddenly, a streak of silver light shot back—it was Quicksilver, returning from a round trip to the girls' high school. His powers might still be immature, but his speed already eclipsed the fastest machines on Earth.
"Take Wanda back first."
Herman patted Wanda's head.
He could've flown her straight to Stellar Tower, but the freezing air at high altitudes wasn't something her small body could handle.
Watching the siblings vanish in a flash, Herman was just about to take off when he noticed a bus pulling up not far away.
"A straggler?"
Herman sensed the minds aboard—driver and passengers alike. The entire bus was packed with vampires.
Judging from their excitement, they were headed to the blood-soaked party. As soon as they stepped off, the vampires swarmed around him.
"Is this Milan's appetizer for us? Oh my god, he looks delicious!" A female vampire with smoky eye makeup licked her lips greedily.
"He's not even scared? Maybe he's one of those zealots offering himself up! Hahaha!" Another vampire in a leather jacket bared his fangs and lunged.
"So… being alive isn't good enough for you?" Herman muttered as his palm lashed out. With a single slap, he sent the vampire's head flying.
It happened too fast.
The body staggered forward headless, blood spraying from the neck like a fountain.
The other vampires froze in shock.
"Damn it! He's not human!"
Horror spread through their faces.
One move. That was all it took for him to erase a vampire who had lived for fifty years. This "human" before them was beyond anything they had imagined.
"You're not even worth…" Herman narrowed his eyes, golden flames beginning to burn within them as he prepared to end it quickly.
But then—
BOOM!
A violent explosion ripped through the night, halting Herman's motion. The vampires jolted in panic, whipping their heads toward the source of the blast.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A chain of explosions followed.
The luxury cars parked outside the factory erupted one by one. Many of the vampires had arrived in style, blending into human life by day. Some of the deceived mortals had even driven themselves.
...
Now those neatly lined cars were fireballs. Through the flames, the vampires saw a blazing motorcycle tearing toward them.
BOOM!
The bus they'd ridden in went up in a deafening blast. A pitch-black iron chain, wrapped in fire, whipped through the air.
The chain had smashed into the bus, detonating it—and the one wielding it was the rider of the burning motorcycle.
"What the hell is that thing?!"
Even the vampires screamed.
As the motorcycle skidded to a halt, a humanoid skeleton wreathed in flames vaulted off with practiced flair.
If not for the fire and exposed bone, the leather jacket and biker look would've actually seemed stylish.
But the vampires were too petrified to admire it.
"Ghost Rider."
Herman's eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn't expected to run into one of the Marvel Universe's most infamous figures here.
Maybe the vampires' sinful little party had drawn him in?
That was Herman's guess.
While he stayed calm, the vampires reacted very differently.
"It's the Ghost Rider! The legend from New Mexico!"
"Damn it! Why's the Ghost Rider in New York? I checked—this place was supposed to be safe!"
A vampire who'd regained his senses shrieked in terror.
They had all heard the stories.
Humans, whether deceived or willingly corrupted, who signed contracts with devils from Hell were consumed by hellfire, cursed into specters, and bound as emissaries of the underworld. The legend had spread through the American West for decades.
Anyone who'd been to New Mexico knew it well. Vampires especially believed it—many of their kin had been hunted there. Their fear wasn't entirely unfounded.
And Ghost Riders didn't all come from Johnny Blaze, nor were they all crafted by Mephisto. Helllords had many ways of creating their enforcers.
Most of the time,
Ghost Riders were judges of sin. Creatures like vampires could be sniffed out from miles away.
In New Mexico, there really was a Ghost Rider operating frequently. Herman had no idea who—before crossing over, the only version he knew was Johnny's blockbuster take.
"Looks like today's the real Halloween."
Herman glanced at the fiery skeleton striding closer and the vampires panicking around him. He couldn't help but think—what the hell kind of freak show was this?
"Too many! Far too many! Every one of you bears a sinful soul!"
The Ghost Rider advanced step by step, flaming boots scorching fiery footprints into the ground. His voice rasped low and sharp, cutting like a blade.
After striking a pose, he suddenly raised his leather-gloved hand, pointing one by one at the terrified vampires.
"Hm?"
Herman's brows furrowed.
The Ghost Rider's finger… was pointing at him too.
...
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