Chapter 7: The Blood God Emerges

The world was beginning to notice the man known as Bateman. His influence spread like wildfire, and soon, even the most powerful of the heroes could no longer ignore his rise. He had ascended beyond the mortal realm, taking on the form of something greater, something terrifying. But there was one hero, one symbol of justice who still held his ground against Bateman—the one man whose will was unwavering, whose mind was sharp enough to stand against the darkness.

Batman.

For months, Bateman had been aware of the Dark Knight's efforts to stop him. Gotham had become a battleground for their encounters, but they had always been at odds, never quite coming face-to-face until now. Bateman had long anticipated this moment, knowing that Batman was a man who would challenge him, push him, and test his power like no other hero could. Batman had been investigating the disappearance of entire communities, strange incidents linked to Bateman's rapidly expanding operations. But the truth—Bateman's transformation, his alliance with the vampires, his thirst for something greater—remained hidden.

Tonight, the two would finally meet on equal ground. Bateman, now fully immersed in his new powers as a vampire, stood atop a Gotham skyscraper, surveying the city below. His senses were on fire—every sound, every movement within miles of him. But he could feel it. Batman was here.

The sound of a grapple gun cutting through the air was the only warning Bateman had before Batman descended from the shadows. The Dark Knight landed gracefully on the rooftop, his cape billowing like a dark specter in the night. His gaze locked onto Bateman with the intensity of a predator, but there was something else behind those eyes. Recognition. Batman had been tracking him, studying him, and now he was ready to put an end to Bateman's reign of terror.

"You've been causing chaos for far too long," Batman growled, his voice low and steady. "You're a monster, Bateman. And monsters like you don't get to live."

Bateman smirked, stepping forward with a quiet confidence. "Monsters?" he said with mock amusement. "I'm more than just a monster, Batman. I've transcended what you can comprehend. I'm becoming something greater than you can imagine."

Batman's jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he prepared for the fight. "You're deluded if you think you can control this power. You're still just a man, and I'll stop you before you hurt anyone else."

The tension in the air was palpable. In a flash, Batman launched himself at Bateman, his fists striking with precision. But Bateman was faster now—quicker, stronger. He ducked, dodging Batman's blows with ease, his body moving like liquid, almost untouchable. He responded with a vicious counterattack, his enhanced strength sending Batman sprawling backward, the force of the blow cracking the rooftop beneath him.

Batman grunted in pain, but he didn't relent. He quickly regained his footing, his mind working in overdrive. He knew that Bateman's physical prowess was unmatched, but he also knew that he couldn't fight him on raw strength alone. His strategy had to be different. He had to find a way to exploit Bateman's weakness, something that would give him the upper hand.

As the fight raged on, Batman realized that Bateman wasn't just a threat physically. He was a man driven by something darker—an obsession with power. A hunger that could never be quenched. This wasn't just about defeating a villain. This was about stopping a force of nature, a predator whose bloodlust was boundless.

Bateman, feeling the rush of the battle, allowed himself to relish the challenge. Each blow he delivered was a reminder of his strength, his invincibility. But Batman was a skilled fighter, one who knew how to outthink his enemies. Bateman's instincts screamed at him as Batman launched a series of calculated attacks, using gadgets and his environment to his advantage. Bateman could feel the Dark Knight pushing him harder than ever before, but there was something else at play—Batman wasn't just trying to defeat him; he was trying to expose him.

The fight seemed to stretch on forever, both combatants locked in a brutal stalemate. Bateman's vampiric speed and strength clashed with Batman's martial prowess and tactical genius. Neither one would give in. The rooftop became a battlefield, each blow shaking the foundations of the city.

But Bateman knew that this battle, like all others, could only end one way—either in his victory or the destruction of everything around him. And in that moment, Bateman made a choice.

With a snarl of fury, he launched himself at Batman, his fist connecting with the hero's chest in a devastating blow. The force of the punch sent Batman crashing into the rooftop, his body crumpling beneath the weight of Bateman's power. Bateman stood over him, breathing heavily, his eyes glowing with the fire of his vampiric rage.

Batman, battered and bloodied, slowly raised his head. "You won't win," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "There's always a way to stop you."

Bateman looked down at him, his lips curling into a grin. "We'll see about that, Batman. You were never going to stop me."

But just as Bateman prepared to finish the fight, a voice echoed through the night, sharp and commanding.

"You've done well, Bateman. But you still haven't reached your true potential."

The voice belonged to Alaric, the vampire lord who had taken Bateman under his wing. Bateman's gaze flickered toward the shadows, where Alaric emerged, his form surrounded by a dark aura. With a gesture, Alaric called upon the darkness, summoning his own army of vampires. Batman, weakened from the fight, struggled to rise, but the overwhelming presence of Alaric and his coven kept him at bay.

"Get out of here, Bateman," Batman muttered through gritted teeth, realizing that the fight was lost. "You'll never be a god."

But Bateman wasn't listening anymore. He had one goal now: to achieve the power he had always craved.

With Batman unconscious, Bateman turned his attention to something far darker. Far more essential.

A remote village, tucked away in the mountains, had long been known for harboring mutants—freaks of nature, as society called them. But Bateman had seen potential in them, just as he had with the vampires. They were discarded, neglected, and cast aside. But he knew they held something of value—genetic mutations, powers that could be fused with his own, and through that fusion, he would unlock his ultimate potential.

He arrived at the village under the cover of night, bringing with him an army of vampires and mercenaries to overwhelm the inhabitants. The mutants fought back, but they were no match for the supernatural strength and speed of Bateman and his allies. One by one, they fell, their screams echoing through the cold night air.

Bateman stood in the center of the village, surveying the carnage. The mutants had been nothing but pawns, sacrifices in his quest for ultimate power. He knew what needed to be done next. With a brutal, efficient motion, Bateman began the ritual, fusing the mutants' powers with his own. The process was painful—his body twisted and convulsed as he absorbed the genetic anomalies, their powers coursing through him like fire.

The result was nothing short of monstrous.

Bateman's vampiric abilities were magnified. His strength, speed, and senses became even more potent, but now, he also wielded the powers of the mutants. His body became a vessel for their powers—he could manipulate the elements, control minds, and even regenerate faster than before. His transformation was complete, but it was not the end. Now, Bateman was something more than human, more than a vampire—he was a living god, a creature of pure power.

His thirst for blood, his desire for domination, had reached its peak. He was now the Blood God, and the world would soon feel the wrath of his newfound power.