Chapter 54

A/N: Thank you very much, my dear well-wishers!

...

Sergei sighed, his expression growing serious as his eyes narrowed.

Bang!

In an instant, a vortex of fire erupted, and Sergei appeared right in front of Reddick. His imposing presence was overwhelming, leaving Reddick and his companions in stunned silence. They barely had time to react before the vampire warriors around them were reduced to ashes, one after another.

Reddick finally moved, his hands morphing into razor-sharp claws as he slashed toward Sergei. But in the blink of an eye, the flash of Sergei's sword cut through the air.

A sharp pain shot through Reddick, and he let out an involuntary scream.

"Ahhh!"

Both of his hands, along with his forearms, had been severed cleanly. The wounds were impossibly smooth, leaving Reddick trembling in disbelief.

Seeing Sergei's devastating power, the vampires behind Reddick hesitated. Though they gritted their teeth, ready to attack, one cold glance from Sergei froze them in place, paralyzed by fear. They dared not move.

Sergei, holding his sword upside down in his right hand, reached into his left pocket and pulled out a syringe, preparing to draw blood from Reddick. But just then, other vampire warriors on the rooftop sprang into action. Fear lingered in their eyes, but their vampire instincts drove them to fight for Reddick.

Bang!

A bullet cut through the air, aimed at Sergei's temple. He dodged it with a slight tilt of his head, then straightened up, his expression darkening with displeasure.

"Seems I shouldn't have tried to take the easy way out," he muttered, his voice low and filled with murderous intent.

He returned the syringe to his pocket. With a powerful stomp of his right foot, Sergei vanished in a flash of red fire, the sudden gust of air ruffling Reddick's hair.

Sergei had made up his mind—he would kill every vampire on the rooftop delaying his mission, whether man or woman.

A scream pierced the air as Sergei charged like a tiger down the mountain, heading straight for the vampire warriors. Though they were terrified, the warriors gritted their teeth, ready for a desperate fight.

Slash!

A flash of red sword light, and the head of the first vampire warrior was severed, turning into ashes. Without a moment's pause, Sergei rushed toward the second one, who desperately fired his weapon, but Sergei's ghost-like movements easily dodged the bullets. With a swift grip on the vampire's hair, Sergei plunged his sword into the warrior's heart, as cold and final as death itself. He pulled the sword out, ignoring the twitching, burning remains, and advanced toward the next.

The death feast had begun.

The vampire warriors moved quickly, trying to use their numbers and speed to slow him down, but Sergei's speed was unmatched. His fiery presence left them no chance to escape.

Realizing the futility of fleeing, the vampire women screamed and charged at him, desperation in their eyes. But they were merely moths flying into the flames.

"Kill him! Tear him apart with our speed and numbers!" they shouted, but their efforts were futile.

On the rooftop, it was chaos—figures darting like shadows, bullets and blood flying in all directions. Sergei became a flaming tiger, dragging a long trail of red fire, tearing through the crowd. His flame engulfed both men and women alike, leaving nothing but despair in his wake.

In less than thirty seconds, the gunfire, screams, and roars ceased. All that remained were piles of black ash, drifting away on the wind. The luxurious rooftop party had transformed into a scene of pure death.

Reddick and the few remaining purebloods stood trembling, their faces twisted in fear.

"You... are you a monster?" Reddick stammered, staring at Sergei as he approached. He couldn't believe his eyes. How could anyone possess such terrifying power? That crushing speed and strength—this wasn't something a human should have.

Sergei ignored the question. Without wasting time, he stepped up to Reddick, who had completely lost his will to fight. He pulled out a syringe and injected it straight into Reddick's heart. The vampire didn't dare to resist or even speak.

Once the syringe filled with blood, Sergei pulled it out, pocketing it swiftly. Looking at the trembling vampires around him, he asked coldly, "Which faction are you from?"

"We... we're all affiliated with the Council of Elders, covering the entire Western world," Reddick blurted, sensing the gravity of the question. He immediately mentioned the Elders, hoping to deter Sergei from any rash actions.

Sergei seemed intrigued for a moment. "The Council of Elders, huh? Impressive." He hesitated, clearly considering his next move.

"Well, this complicates things," he muttered. His original plan had been simple—wipe out Reddick and his group, but the mention of a powerful faction made him reconsider. He didn't want to kill Reddick, only to have the Council come after him for revenge later. It wasn't that he feared them, but Sergei hated unnecessary complications.

Still, the name Council of Elders was now firmly etched in Sergei's mind.

Boom!

Just as Sergei was thinking about how to get information from the terrified Reddick regarding the Council of Elders, heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs. A tall, muscular Black man with a flat-top haircut, wearing a black trench coat and sunglasses, entered. He had a sword strapped to his back—Eric Brooks had arrived.

Reddick and the other vampires immediately recognized him. Fear and hatred filled their eyes as one name raced through their minds.

"Blade? You're that damned vampire killer!" Reddick shouted. At first, it sounded like a question, but the second half was a clear statement.

Blade—Eric Brooks—had appeared out of nowhere a few years ago. While the vampires called themselves nobles or, to Blade, they were nothing more than vampires. His relentless hunting had made him infamous, wiping out entire vampire families with no discrimination between men or women, high-born or low-born.

To powerful factions like the Council of Elders, Blade's actions were an annoyance, hardly worth their attention. But for families like Reddick's—big enough to feel the sting, but not powerful enough to retaliate—Blade was a nightmare.

Blade looked over the rooftop with indifference, taking in the scene: bodies turned to ash, the air thick with the smell of burnt flesh, and the luxurious party turned into a battlefield. He glanced at Reddick and the other vampires briefly before turning his gaze to Sergei.

The shock in Blade's eyes was undeniable—a rare expression for someone like him.