The explosion tore through Locke's body like a hammer of fire and steel.
A sharp groan escaped his lips as the impact hurled him into the collapsing structure. In the next instant, the entire pyramid gave way under the blast, stones crashing down in waves as the structure crumbled completely, burying him beneath a mountain of debris.
For a moment, everything went dark.
Pain followed.
It spread through his body in violent pulses, sharp and overwhelming. Locke could feel the damage clearly—his back had been torn open, bones fractured, his spine cracked in multiple places. Every attempt to move sent fresh agony shooting through him, locking his body in place beneath the rubble.
For the first time since gaining his abilities, things had slipped out of his control.
But even as the pain surged, something else was happening.
His body was healing.
The power of his enhanced physiology surged into action, repairing the damage at a visible rate. Broken bones began to knit together, producing faint cracking sounds as they realigned. Torn muscle fibers fused back into place, and the searing pain slowly dulled into something manageable.
"Damn it…"
Locke cursed under his breath, his voice low and strained.
Right at the moment he had been about to strip Drake of his power, his own teammates had turned on him. The betrayal had come without warning, clean and precise.
If he had known, he wouldn't have stopped them earlier.
A faint cracking sound echoed again from his back.
Creak.
In the next moment, Locke's eyes snapped open. His body surged with strength as he pushed upward, and the massive stones pinning him down were thrown aside as if they weighed nothing.
He rose from the ruins.
Dust and sand slid off his shoulders as his figure emerged from the wreckage, his uniform torn and hanging in ragged strips. The air around him seemed to shift, a faint pressure radiating from his body as his strength stabilized once more.
Several large stones tumbled down from above as he stepped free, his silhouette steady despite the destruction around him.
Locke didn't bother searching for Drake.
Even while buried beneath the rubble, he had remained aware of the situation outside. The explosion had not only been aimed at him—it had also affected Drake at close range, likely injuring him just as severely.
More importantly, Locke had sensed it clearly.
His so-called teammates had retrieved Drake and fled the scene, leaving him behind to die under the collapsed pyramid.
His gaze swept over the destroyed structure, then dropped briefly to his tattered uniform. With a quiet sigh, he pulled off his broken helmet and tossed it aside.
The endless desert stretched out before him, the sky heavy with drifting sand.
Getting back wouldn't be easy.
A deep mechanical roar echoed overhead.
A helicopter cut through the sky at high speed, its blades slicing through the air with a deafening hum.
Inside the aircraft, three of Locke's former teammates sat tensely, their expressions tight as they watched Drake, who leaned against the back of the cabin with his eyes closed.
One of them, a broad-shouldered man, held a phone to his ear, speaking in a low voice as he reported the situation. Every now and then, his gaze flicked toward Drake, unease clearly written across his face.
"What the hell was that guy?" he muttered. "No… what is he?"
Drake's eyes snapped open.
His scarlet pupils glowed faintly as he fixed his gaze on the three vampires seated across from him. He could sense the aura within their bodies—it was unmistakably vampiric.
But it was completely different from Locke.
"He was one of our teammates," one of them said cautiously. "A vampire… just like us."
The words had barely left his mouth before Drake moved.
A grotesque arm shot forward, bone spurs tearing through the skin as it transformed mid-motion. It seized the man by the throat and dragged him forward with overwhelming force.
Drake's face shifted, morphing back into his monstrous form as his jaws opened wide. His fangs sank deep into the vampire's neck without hesitation.
"Ah—!"
The scream cut off abruptly.
Despite his strength, the victim was completely helpless. His hands clawed weakly at Drake's chest, but he couldn't break free. In mere seconds, his body began to wither, draining rapidly until it collapsed into nothing but ash.
The cabin fell silent.
The remaining two vampires recoiled in horror, their hands trembling as they raised their guns, aiming at Drake from a distance. Fear gripped them completely.
Drake lowered his arm slowly, his skin now flushed with renewed vitality. The dry, pale look he had upon waking was gone, replaced by a healthy, almost radiant color.
"If that thing is a vampire," he said coldly, his voice thick with menace, "then what are we?"
The two vampires exchanged uneasy glances, unable to answer.
Everything they thought they understood had been shattered.
The man they had known—Locke—had suddenly displayed overwhelming strength, enough to suppress the progenitor of their entire race. And now, Drake himself was denying that Locke was even a vampire.
It didn't make sense.
Drake didn't press them further. Instead, he closed his eyes, focusing inward. His body was still recovering, the damage from the explosion significant even for him.
…
New York.
Four pale figures moved quickly through a dimly lit corridor, their footsteps echoing softly against the walls. Their expressions were serious, their movements deliberate as they approached a heavily secured room that resembled a prison cell.
At the front, a middle-aged woman adjusted her clothing before stepping inside, her posture respectful yet tense.
Inside the room, Drake stood with his upper body exposed. His muscles were pronounced, each line of his physique radiating strength. In his grip was a trembling man, whom he was feeding on without restraint.
The scene was brutal.
Blood spilled freely, the sound of flesh tearing filling the enclosed space. Even the woman, a vampire herself, couldn't hide the flicker of fear in her eyes.
Because Drake wasn't feeding on a human.
He was devouring a vampire.
"Great Drake," she said, lowering her head as she spoke.
Drake turned slowly, his gaze locking onto her.
"Have you found out who he is?" he asked.
A faint red glow lingered in his eyes, and there was still a trace of satisfaction on his face from feeding. Compared to when he had first awakened, his condition had improved drastically.
He wanted revenge.
He wanted to drain that man dry.
"Great Drake," the woman said carefully, "we awakened you not just because of him. There is… another threat."
Drake's brow furrowed slightly.
"Another threat greater than that one?"
A flicker of unease passed through his eyes. Even now, he wasn't confident he could defeat Locke. That man had clearly been holding back.
And now there was something worse?
"The greatest danger to our kind right now," the woman continued, "comes from the Daywalker."
Drake's eyes narrowed.
"A half-human, half-vampire," she said, her voice filled with anger. "A miracle of existence. Though he carries our blood, he despises us. He hunts our kind relentlessly, slaughtering our people day after day."
Her gaze lifted slightly, admiration and something darker flickering within it.
"Because of his human side, he shares your strengths. He fears neither sunlight nor silver."
Drake's expression shifted.
Interest sparked.
"Oh?" he murmured. "A hybrid…"
For a brief moment, excitement flashed across his face.
But then doubt followed.
If that being was truly his descendant… how had he become so strong?
....
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