Chapter 6: The Blood of Power

Bateman had fought, bled, and killed to carve his name into the world. But as the battle with Steelheart revealed, there were forces in play that could rival even his strength. That battle had left him with more questions than answers—was sheer might truly enough to dominate? Was the world so unyielding that no one man, no matter how unstoppable, could ever hold absolute control?

He realized then that there were limits to physical power. Steelheart had been formidable, but there were others, more dangerous, more cunning—he could feel it. If Bateman was going to stay ahead of his enemies, he needed more. His body, however strong, was just flesh and bone. His mind, sharp as it was, could only outmanoeuvre so many. But there was another option, one that spoke to the very heart of his desire to transcend humanity: the vampires.

The ancient race had always fascinated Bateman, with their immortality and the dark allure of their power. Their ability to move through shadows, to heal at an accelerated rate, and to control the minds of others—their powers were nearly limitless, and Bateman's desire to wield them had grown stronger with each passing day. He needed to be more than a man. He needed to be a god. A blood god.

Bateman's first step was to find them.

He used the resources of his growing company—now one of the most successful oil transport businesses in the country—to trace the vampire covens. His wealth and influence had afforded him access to every corner of the world, and soon, his search led him to the heart of the vampire underworld—a hidden city deep beneath the earth, shrouded in darkness and mystery.

The city was ancient, its walls carved from rock that had been untouched by time. The air was thick with the scent of blood, and the shadows seemed to move of their own accord. Bateman's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped deeper into the labyrinthine streets, knowing that he was about to come face-to-face with creatures who had long stood at the top of the food chain.

At the heart of this dark city stood a throne room, its high walls adorned with centuries-old tapestries depicting ancient battles and dark rituals. And seated on the throne, a figure of terrifying beauty, was the vampire lord—Alaric.

Alaric's eyes were red, like the colour of fresh blood, and his skin was pale as bone, but his presence was undeniably commanding. His black cloak billowed around him like the wings of a raven, and his fangs were sharp, glistening in the dim light of the room. He looked at Bateman with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, as though he were inspecting a rare insect.

"You're brave to come here, human," Alaric's voice was smooth, like the sound of silk sliding across skin. "You must know that only the foolish seek us out, and only the desperate come to beg for what they cannot achieve on their own."

Bateman stood tall, unfazed by the vampire lord's intimidating presence. "I don't beg," he said, his voice cold. "I take what I want."

Alaric chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that echoed through the room. "You are bold, I'll give you that. But boldness alone will not save you. Why do you seek us out, Bateman? Power? Immortality?"

"I seek to become something greater than a man," Bateman said, his eyes locked with Alaric's. "I seek to become a god."

Alaric studied him for a long moment, his red eyes narrowing as he considered Bateman's words. "A god?" he mused, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "You believe that immortality will make you a god? That strength alone will make you supreme? You are mistaken, Bateman. Power is not just about what you can take. It is about what you can become."

Bateman's expression remained unreadable, but inside, something stirred. He had come for immortality, yes, but now he understood. The vampires didn't just possess power—they were power. They had become gods in their own right, and Bateman would have that, too. He would wield that power, and then, he would surpass it.

"I want to become one of you," Bateman said, his voice steady, resolute.

Alaric studied him for a long time, his gaze piercing and calculating. Then, with a slight nod, he stood from the throne. "Very well. You will have your chance. But be warned—becoming a vampire is not without its price. You will shed your humanity, and in its place, you will gain power beyond your comprehension. But you must prove yourself worthy. Only then will I make you one of us."

Without another word, Alaric extended his hand, and the air around them grew thick with the weight of ancient magic. Bateman's heart raced, but his resolve never wavered. This was what he had come for. This was the key to his ascension.

The ritual was excruciating. Bateman could feel his body rejecting the transformation, his human blood burning as it was replaced by the cold, insatiable thirst of the vampires. His muscles convulsed as if being torn apart from the inside, and his mind was flooded with visions of a thousand years of history—of ancient wars, forgotten kingdoms, and the endless hunger that defined the vampire race. It felt as though his very soul was being ripped from his body, leaving only the raw, primal essence of the creature he was becoming.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pain subsided, and Bateman stood, gasping for breath. His senses were heightened, his strength amplified, and his mind was sharper than it had ever been. His skin felt different now—cool, smooth, and almost... impervious. His teeth were longer, sharper, and his vision was crystal clear, able to see in the darkest shadows. The hunger in his veins, the thirst for blood, was overwhelming, but Bateman knew that this was the price he had paid for ultimate power.

Alaric stood before him, his red eyes glowing with approval. "You are now one of us," he said, his voice rich with authority. "But your journey has only just begun. To become the Blood God, you must learn to master your new form. You must learn to control the hunger, to command the powers that flow through your veins."

Bateman nodded, his eyes glowing with an intensity that matched the vampire lord's. "I will learn. I will master this power. I will become the Blood God."

With that declaration, Bateman began his training under Alaric's watchful eye. The ancient vampire lord taught him the ways of the immortals—how to command the shadows, how to manipulate the minds of the weak, how to unleash the full fury of his vampiric strength. Bateman learned quickly, absorbing everything Alaric had to offer. His new body was a weapon, and he wielded it with an unrelenting precision.

Days turned into weeks, and Bateman's transformation was complete. He had transcended humanity, but he had not yet reached his final goal. The power he had now was immense, but it was just the beginning. There was still more to gain, more blood to spill, more lives to claim.

And so, Bateman began to expand his reach. His company grew, his influence spreading across the globe. With his newfound abilities, he could make deals, break enemies, and manipulate others with ease. But his true focus remained on one thing—becoming the Blood God. He would rise above all, transcending the very concept of mortality itself.

Bateman's rise to power had only just begun. His enemies, heroes, and villains alike would soon realize that the world had a new king, and his reign would be bathed in blood.