But the vampires quickly recovered from their shock.
"A mere human," one of them hissed, baring his fangs with disdain. "Even with a good weapon, what can he possibly do?"
They had a point. Their kind was physically superior to humans in every way. As long as they avoided that strange gleaming knife, they were confident they could tear him apart.
Encouraged by their own arrogance, a dozen of them lunged forward at once, claws flashing, fangs glinting in the strobing lights of the ruined bar.
"Reaper's Eye!"
In an instant, the world slowed to a crawl. The vampires' movements turned sluggish, their snarls stretching out into distorted echoes.
Darren didn't hesitate. His wrist flicked, and the blade in his hand drew two dazzling arcs through the air.
Shing! Shing!
Two vampires froze mid-pounce. Thin red lines appeared across their throats before their heads separated cleanly from their bodies. Both disintegrated into ash before their remains could even hit the ground.
Darren didn't stop.
Gripping the Sun Blade tightly, he charged straight into the pack, his strikes fast, brutal, and efficient. Every swing tore through undead flesh as though it were paper. The vampires barely had time to scream before their bodies erupted into clouds of grey dust that scattered across the floor.
The violent clash drew every other vampire's attention.
They paused, stunned by the carnage—then their bloodlust flared, overwhelming reason. One after another, they hurled themselves at him like beasts driven mad by hunger.
Darren didn't retreat. He advanced.
He surged forward, plunging headfirst into the thick of them, eyes burning with battle-light.
Supernatural or not, to him, these creatures were no different from random street thugs—reckless, disorganized, and utterly predictable. Their attacks were nothing but mindless swipes and bites. And with the Sun Blade in his hands—lethal to any creature that feared sunlight—cutting them down was almost too easy.
Hand up, blade down. Hand up, blade down.
No hesitation. No mercy.
By the time the last swing fell, the bar's floor was coated in a thick layer of ash.
"Don't—don't come any closer!"
The remaining vampires huddled in a corner, trembling like terrified children. Their confidence was gone, replaced by sheer horror.
Who said this guy was human?
He was a monster—a creature far more terrifying than they were.
Shing. Shing. Shing.
The final flashes of steel tore through the air, and silence fell.
Darren flicked the grey dust off his blade and glanced at his system interface.
[Current Vampire Kills: 34]
Without bothering to look at the mess he'd made, he walked out of the underground bar, casually dispatching the two security guards at the door.
Yes—those two were vampires too.
"System, mark the locations I got from that redhead."
A map unfolded before his eyes, dotted with a dozen glowing crimson points scattered across New York City.
Each one represented a vampire nest.
He cracked his neck, stretched his shoulders, and grinned. "All right then. Time to grind."
...
For the next few days, Darren became New York's most active exterminator.
He moved through the city like a silent storm, wiping out one vampire den after another. Each location was the same story—blood, dust, and silence.
Bars, clubs, and night lounges—classic vampire haunts, places where the boundary between predator and prey blurred.
One location stood out: a church. From the priest at the pulpit to the old lady mopping the floor, every single person inside was a vampire. It was the perfect example of the saying "the safest place is the most dangerous."
Unfortunately for them, their disguise meant nothing to Darren. The moment he walked in, the Sun Blade gleamed—and moments later, the church was quiet forever.
He wondered idly how God would feel about a bunch of vampire worshippers showing up at His doorstep.
By the end of three days, Darren had carved a trail of destruction from the southern edge of New York all the way to the north, cutting through vampires like a hot knife through butter.
Ten vampire nests reduced to rubble. Over four hundred vampires slain.
And through it all, the city slept on, unaware.
At most, a few locals complained that the air quality had worsened lately—something about strange gray dust floating everywhere.
...
The next night, Darren returned to the hunt.
This time, though, the target location seemed… different.
The nightclub he was watching had doubled its guards. The security was tighter, the movements sharper.
The vampires had gotten the memo. Someone was slaughtering their kind, and they were scared.
As Darren crouched in the shadows, studying the entrance, a low voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
"You're the vampire slayer?"
He spun around instantly, muscles tensed. "Who's there?!"
"I'm on your left."
Darren turned—and froze.
From the darkness emerged a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in a long black leather coat, black shades, and gear that seemed to swallow the light around him. His skin was dark as midnight, his presence cold and commanding.
He looked like he belonged to the shadows.
Darren blinked, genuinely impressed. "Whoa. That's one hell of a stealth skill. You were right next to me, and I didn't even notice!"
The man tilted his head, clearly confused. "What?"
He hadn't been using any stealth. He'd literally just been standing there.
"Wait," Darren said, narrowing his eyes. "What did you just call me?"
"Vampire Slayer," the man repeated, voice deep and steady. "Word is, someone's been wiping out vampire nests across the city. Hundreds dead. The vampires are calling you the Slayer. I'm guessing that's you."
Darren snorted. "What a cheesy title."
He eyed the man up and down. "And you are?"
"Blade," the man said coolly. "Like you, I hunt those bloodsucking bastards."
"Oh, I see." Darren nodded seriously. "So you're here to steal my kills."
Blade: "...What?"
He wasn't sure how this conversation had gone so wrong, but he could tell Darren's bloodlust was real.
Still, the enemy of his enemy was a potential ally.
Blade raised a hand calmly. "Relax. I'm not here to interfere. I'm looking for a vampire named Deacon Frost. One of his top lieutenants is hiding in this club."
He glanced toward the heavily guarded entrance.
"But thanks to you, the vampires are spooked. Every nest is on high alert. If we rush in, they'll scatter, and once they vanish into the shadows, finding them again won't be easy."
Darren nodded. That made sense. These weren't mindless mobs—they could move, hide, adapt.
"So what's your plan?"
"We work together," Blade said. "You take care of the vampires inside. I only want Frost's man."
Darren raised an eyebrow. "And why should I trust you?"
"I can give you more vampire nest locations."
Darren grinned. "Deal. Happy hunting, partner."