"Stop, stop!" A blond man in a light suit stood before me, waving a stump where his hand should have been. Eliot, I think. Sometimes you just don't care who's in front of you. Another vampire or some rich scum. Yeah, definitely Eliot. I'd killed Jason just before this.
"Any more useless words?" I asked, draining the warmth from my hand. I'd listen. This blood-drinking creature wouldn't survive until dawn anyway. Maybe it'd say something interesting.
"No, no… Just listen…" He stood and, in a split second, was by the balcony railing. The place was massive—one of the biggest, most expensive clubs in England. Empty tables, an empty dance floor, a bar counter. Complete silence in the surrounding blocks. This club had been full of people, but I'd cleared them out in a second. The police wouldn't show up for a while. They'd only distract me. The vampires were stunned when their food vanished before their eyes. Stupid creatures. They should've run. There were so many minors here… "…listen. Look around you. At these people, these pathetic creatures. At this world!"
He waved his arms expressively, arms that were already starting to regrow. Impressive regeneration for such a young vampire.
"The world? The world that's crumbling?" I asked, tilting my head. My arms were crossed, and the hood of my sweatshirt covered my head.
"Yes, exactly. The world is crumbling for one reason alone, boy. There's us! Predators. And there's them—herbivores, weak humans. Imagine if they were gone…"
A lunge, a swing of my hand. No resistance. Too weak.
His head flew straight down to the center, where young people usually danced, splattering everything around. What an idiot. Strange, contradictory creatures.
Killing these vile freaks was all the sweeter. I never liked radicals. And radical vampires…
What nonsense.
Helios started it all. Vampires, werewolves, and all sorts of weird creatures whose names I didn't know—they all said the same thing. Helios created the virus. Created a weapon against humans.
On the brink of death, they all repented their sins, but not one could tell me where to find these creatures' bases. I needed specifics. Where they were based, where they came from. Where they lived, where new vampires were born. But when I tried to find out, their blood would literally boil. No attempt to prevent it helped. A second later, all that was left was a puddle of sludge.
Disgusting.
The creatures at the top of their world had covered their tracks well, and scouring the planet didn't yield results. They'd burrowed into some corner like rats, not showing their faces. As if they were waiting for something. All I could do was patiently, discreetly search for them. Like these ones. I looked around.
A dozen young vampires who hadn't listened to their elders and decided to go for a stroll. A dozen bodies now scattered in different corners. This was their last walk among the living.
But these bodies and puddles would be useful. The scent would lead me to them. These creatures couldn't live without blood.
---
Months passed. The world was slowly regaining its former appearance. But everything was different now.
I returned to Brightburn, home, as always at dawn, when the sky was painted pink and gold, like a wound healing under the sun. The city was coming to life: footsteps echoed on the ground, weak but stubborn; smoke dissipated, giving way to the damp scent of grass and the smell of freshly baked bread from someone's window. The house looked a bit more alive: Kate, with the money I gave her, had ordered repairs—new boards on the porch, still damp with morning dew, creaked underfoot, smelling of resin and forest; the paint on the window frames gleamed bright white, like bones cleansed of dirt. Tori stood by the railing, her slender fingers gripping the wood—no longer trembling, but still fragile, like branches after winter. Her blond, tangled hair caught the breeze, loose strands dancing around her face like sunrays caught in a net. Her skin glowed with health, lightly dusted with freckles that had appeared over months of working outdoors, and her eyes shone like lakes where the sun drowns—deep, blue, with sparks I hadn't seen since it all began. She stepped toward me, for the first time in weeks without a hint of weakness. Her boots—old, worn, caked with dirt—left faint imprints in the ground, and each step sounded like a promise, like the rhythm of a heart beating despite everything.
"Brandon," she said, embracing me. Her hands were warm, strong, smelling of lavender soap and something alive—maybe the flowers she'd started planting by the porch, small yellow marigolds she dug up with a child's stubborn belief in spring. I froze, feeling her breath on my neck, soft and warm, like the life I was trying to pull from the ashes. She pulled back slightly, and I noticed her fingers, marked with faint scratches from thorns and soil, gripping the fabric of my jacket—not out of fear, but to hold onto this moment. Tori had changed: her thinness, which once betrayed exhaustion, now seemed like lightness, like a bird spreading its wings after a long winter. She wore Kyle's old plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a simple leather cord with a pendant—a small metal feather she'd found in the wreckage and now fiddled with in moments of thought.
Kate approached next, her steps quieter but more confident than Tori's. She pressed against me silently, her cheek leaving warmth on my shirt, her heart beating fast but steady, like the pulse of a new world. Her dark hair was tied in a messy bun, with strands brushing her neck. She wore an old sweater, stretched at the shoulders, with paint stains on the sleeves—she'd taken up the brush herself when the workers couldn't keep up, and her hands, roughened by labor, still smelled of solvent and sawdust. Kate was silent, but her fingers, with short-clipped nails, gripped my hand, nails digging into my skin, leaving red crescents—not out of anger, but from fear that I might vanish, like others had. Her parents. They'd seen the news: burning towers of the rich, cities rising from their knees, people whose steps echoed in the emptiness of old streets. I felt their gazes—Tori looked with hope, pride, and anxiety, her brows slightly furrowed, betraying thoughts she didn't dare voice; Kate with something heavy, unspoken, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if she'd swallowed words that burned her throat.
"Everything's changed so much, darling," Tori said, pulling away. Her voice was soft, but it carried a taut string ready to snap. She hugged herself, as if trying to hold in warmth, and looked at the field beyond the house, where the wind drove the grass in waves. "Neighbors are coming back, though not in full. Schools are opening again—I saw kids carrying backpacks yesterday, laughing, as if nothing happened. The internet's buzzing with news. The world's changing. People are breathing. But what's next, Brandon? What do you want from all this?" She turned to me, and a shadow flickered in her eyes—not weakness, but the strength she'd gained digging in the dirt, helping Kate carry boards, teaching neighbor boys how to fix bikes. Tori had become the anchor of this house; her voice trembled not from tears, but from a desire to understand where I was leading them.
I looked at the horizon, where the sun rose over the field, the withered grass swaying like a sea before a storm. A lump stuck in my throat—not from their words, but because I didn't know the answer myself.
"A new order," I said, my voice sounding firmer than I felt. "Not for me. For everyone. For those who survived. A world without parasites, where the weak become strong, and the strong become just." I saw it: cities free from the shadow of hunger, fields growing bread instead of ash, children whose laughter rang louder than sirens. But something clawed inside, sharp like a shard of glass. I burned towers, broke bones, tore wealth from their hands—but what if I wasn't building a world, but a cage? What if "Blood" didn't save them, but broke them, like those beasts in Mumbai? But there was no room for doubt.
"What if they come back?" Kate asked, her voice quiet but cutting like a knife. She raised her eyes, dark and deep like wells full of questions, and I noticed wrinkles by her eyes—not from age, but from nights spent by the window with a mug of cold tea while I was out there, among fire and screams. She stood straight, but her shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of the world still pressed on her. "The rich, the powerful… They always find a way. You know them, Brandon. You've seen how they cling to their scraps, even when everything's burning." Her hand clenched into a fist, and I saw her fingers tremble—not from fear, but from anger that had built up over years, anger at those who'd taken more from her than she could forgive.
"They won't come back," I snapped, my words falling like steel on stone, cold and heavy. "I'll break them all. Every single one who dares stand in my way. I'll burn their roots, their seeds, their memory." But even as I spoke, I felt Tori's fingers twitch on my shoulder, her nails lightly scratching my skin, and Kate's gaze grew sharper, as if she saw a crack I was hiding. I wanted to believe my words, wanted them to be true. But a coldness grew in my chest—not fear, but doubt, sticky like blood on my hands. I was saving them, but what if I'd become what I was saving them from? A conqueror building order, or a beast leaving only chaos?
Tori touched my cheek, her palm soft but firm, like earth after rain. A thin scar was visible on her wrist—a mark from glass she'd broken, pulling a neighbor from rubble when everything was collapsing.
"You don't have to carry this alone," she said, her voice trembling, not from weakness, but from something greater—love, faith, the pain she hid behind a smile. "We're here. We see you. Not just what you do, but who you are." She tilted her head slightly, and the feather pendant swung, catching the light.
Kate stepped closer, her hand resting over Tori's, and I felt their fingers intertwine—not against me, but for me.
"You gave us a chance," Kate added, her voice softening but still sharp, like wind before a storm. "But don't forget we're part of this too. Don't go where we can't reach you." Her gaze was heavy, but a warmth flickered in it, like embers under ash—the kind that made her get up every morning, fix the roof, bake bread, keep this house alive.
I stayed silent. Her words burned like sunlight through clouds, and I turned away, looking at the field where the wind drove the grass in waves. They saw me—but what did they see? A hero? A monster? I felt their warmth, their faith, but it clashed with the cold inside—with memories of screams, blood on marble, the howls of those I'd "perfected" and broken. I wanted to give them a world, but my hands only knew how to destroy. My blood flowed in their veins, my will shaped their fate, but what if I'd become the parasite I swore to destroy?
Screw it. The important thing was that it was ending. Children weren't dying, healthy adults were working. Everything as it should be. And a new chapter for Earth was beginning.
Night gave way to day, the stars faded, but I knew: this was only the start. I stepped to the edge of the porch, the boards creaking under my weight, and soared into the sky. The wind hit my face, cold and clean, carrying away the smell of resin, Tori's soap and flowers, Kate's solvent and bread. The Earth lay below me—wounded but alive, its scars breathing under my hands. I was the Conqueror, and this world was now mine—not for glory, not for power, but for the life I'd wrench from the ashes. But for the first time, I wondered: what if I was wrong? If instead of bread, I gave them only fire?
Only time would answer my question. It would also show what would come of all this.
Helios was waiting. It was time to find the creatures that created the virus.
---
I began my search at Ellis's laboratory. The old woman who'd grown young again had to move to a new lab—or rather, an entire city built on the bones of the previous scientific town, not far from Brightburn.
She'd been given full authority to manage an entire planet. Leaders of all countries, from small ones in Africa to the USA, consulted her. The world was recovering and would never be the same. I had only a few conditions for the whole world. Strict, uncompromising conditions.
No wars, no conflicts, no different currencies, no speculation or profiteering. I understood human nature like no one else, having seen all its filth, and I clearly knew that all my demands would be like a breeze in the night to them. Quiet and barely noticeable. But Ellis was in charge here, not me. And it was important to her that all our demands were met. If they weren't, I flew where I was told and did what I had to. Over these months, many had burned in the fire of the Judge. Stupid nickname.
So far, everything was smooth. The internet was still full of videos of me killing creatures—and not just vampires, by that word. So fear still kept those at the top in check. At least for now.
I still needed them. Those who stood above everyone. I had to stop myself in time to avoid slipping into madness. All it would take was a moment of regret to wipe the entire planet clean. One day, and everyone would die without even realizing what happened. But I couldn't do that. Killing everyone with even a drop of power would turn me into a madman. Just a madman everyone feared. And I stopped. Completely purging the planet of government would plunge the entire globe into chaos. And I didn't need that. I needed order.
For now, there was relative peace worldwide. I needed a break; matters more important than the people running entire countries awaited me. And those up there sat quietly, not making a single move to do anything. They were afraid.
And rightly so.
Until the generation raised under my hand emerged, these people would hold power. But they would come. And everything would change. The planet would become what I saw in it. The potential for growth was incredible. I believed in it.
Walking among the frozen people in white coats researching the effects of my blood and those exposed to it, I reached the door to an entire wing under Ellis's control.
She'd resisted for a long time but had to accept it. After all, she was my right hand, even if she refused the role. But I trusted no one more than her in this matter.
It was a complex of rooms combining living and research spaces. Several rooms for her and those she trusted, bathrooms, and rest areas. This wasn't just to satisfy her pride. I wanted my person to see they were valued. At least, I tried to be generous in the way I knew how. I didn't have much experience in such things…
The door opened after entering the code, and I stepped into the living room I was used to seeing. Ruffling Lily's hair as she watched cartoons on the TV, I moved on. The quiet girl just nodded without turning her head. She'd long known my abilities. Smart girl. Her fully purple eyes showed me I was on the right path.
Ellis had said she was different before her parents' death. Active, a joyful child who knew no sorrow. But now she was like this. Quiet and calm, as if she'd grown up. Whether that was bad, I didn't quite understand. Death changes many. It had changed me profoundly in early childhood. Lily, having lost one thing, gained another. The strongest being on this planet after me.
Could she still be called human? I wasn't sure.
Through the corridors, I heard the raspy sound of sleep. Alexander and Amara had arrived here long ago but still couldn't adjust. Interesting kids who might become something more than just the first test subjects.
They needed time to grow. And peace.
I needed peace.